Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“I want a divorce.”

The statement is met with silence. Shouto, who’s busy playing with his brand new All-Might plushie – a gift Dabi got for him a few days ago, both to annoy Endeavor and get into his brother’s good graces – looks up curiously, while Natsuo exchanges a concerned glance with a frowning Fuyumi. Rei puts a hand on Dabi’s shoulder.

“You can’t divorce you father, Touya,” she says gently, her voice almost apologetic.

“Yeah, dumbass, you’re not the one who’s married to him,” Natsuo adds unnecessarily, sending him a condescending look.

Deciding his family is no fun at all, Dabi rolls his eyes. “I didn’t say I was going to be divorcing him. I just said I wanted a divorce.”

Rei responds with an amused huff, surprising even herself with her reaction. She smiles at him and reaches down to ruffle his hair. It’s nice, but he can’t have her thinking that, so he hisses like a startled cat and leans away from the touch. Natsu and Fuyumi both chuckle from where they’re sitting, playing Macao at the coffee table, while Shouto stares at their mother longingly, like he would like to demand a head pat too.

“I can’t just divorce him, you know that,” Rei explains patiently, although there’s an undeniable frustration in the way she holds herself. Dabi can see the shadow in her eyes that never seems to go away nowadays. “With his position and financial status, even if I somehow managed to get a divorce, he would get to keep the custody of you all. Surely that’s not what you want?”

Dabi can’t help but grit his teeth in annoyance. There’s nothing he hates more than feeling helpless. Even with the extensive knowledge of the future on his side, it turns out he’s still powerless against his father’s money. It doesn’t help that everyone else seems to be much less eager to do anything about dear Enji than he would like. 

They’ve been having these ‘secret family meetings’ recently, a little rebellious tradition they came up with to be able to discuss important things without Endeavor looming over their heads. This is one of them. Most often than not, they just turn into them five spending some quality bonding time together, which is great, don’t get him wrong. Today, though, Dabi wanted them to actually have a serious conversation, one that they’ve been putting off for weeks now. It all started after Enji’s sudden decision to become a better person. Not a good person, mind you, just a little less shitty one. Truth be told, they didn’t even notice he was trying at first. They just assumed he was simply avoiding them, until the man explicitly informed them what he was doing, citing that one fight with Dabi as his incentive. Since then, Endeavor has been attempting to be a little less terrible and is still at it now, four weeks later.

The problem being, Dabi doesn’t give a shit. The sooner he can get everyone out of this house, the better.

“Exactly!” Fuyumi exclaims, sitting up straighter and pointing at him with her hand that’s holding her cards. Taking advantage of her distraction, Natsuo peaks at the numbers and grins to himself. “And I know you have your… opinions, about dad, but do you really think abandoning him now that he finally wants to change is the right thing to do?”   

“Yes.”

His sister groans. Dabi isn’t sure what answer she was expecting. He’s pretty certain he’s made his feelings about Endeavor clear enough. Natsuo, the person who understands him the most, chuckles and raises his palm and Dabi accepts the high five with pleasure. Curled on an armchair, with a momentarily discarded book in her hand, Rei watches them with a strange expression on her face, something between amusement and melancholy.

See, Dabi isn’t stupid. In that future that used to be his present, he’s heard all about Endeavor trying to redeem himself too. With his boyfriend’s best friend dating his sister, it was inevitable. Apparently, Fuyumi was over the moon about this development and spent a lot of time gushing about them ‘finally having a real family’. She never mentioned how the rest of this family felt though, which was rather telling.

And, well, Dabi wasn’t buying it even then. It’s not redemption if all you do after years of abuse is say you’re sorry and try to stop being a dick. No, you have to suffer consequences. There has to be some accountability if the forgiveness people choose to grant you is to mean anything. Deciding to still keep that abuse a secret and continuing to work as the Number One? It only means Enji was never serious about his atonement, even if he was serious in his regrets.

Not to mention that Dabi has a lot more history, terrible history, with his father than the rest of his family. He knows what Endeavor is capable of. He doesn’t think he will ever forget the feeling of his skin melting under his father’s hands. He knows people like that don’t change. But his family has no way of knowing that. They could never understand the depths of hatred Dabi holds for that man. Not without witnessing all the horrors he caused, horrors that haunt Dabi’s nightmares even now, years after getting away.

He's perfectly aware that he’s the only one of them totally against giving their father another chance. Which is quite funny, considering it was apparently his little speech that caused this change to begin with. Fuyumi, naturally, didn’t need much convincing. Shouto appears to be indifferent, but Dabi caught him smiling slightly after Endeavor awkwardly complimented his drawing a few days ago. Even Natsu is secretly alright with it, although he pretends not to be in order to impress him.

The only one who is nearly as unenthusiastic with their forgiveness as him is, unsurprisingly, Rei herself. But even she’s not able to outright tell him to shove it.

“Very mature of you,” Fuyumi sighs, glaring at him with disappointment. She puts down one of her cards without even glancing at it. Natsuo doesn’t even bother hiding his cheating anymore. “You don’t have to like him. I know he’s been harsh on you. But don’t you think the rest of us deserve a good father?”

Dabi resist an urge to yank on his hair in frustration. “You know marriage isn’t a one-in-a-lifetime thing, right? Mum could find someone else who will actually love her and, you know, already be a good person.”

He knows they don’t understand,. He knows. They can’t - they aren’t the ones who can barely stand their own reflection because of how much they resemble the man who did nothing but hurt. They weren’t there when the house was woken up by a heart-wrenching scream of a child getting boiling water poured all over his face. They weren’t there when Endeavor slapped his sobbing wife into submission and thrown her out without a second thought. They certainly weren’t there when Touya’s life burned to ashes in their combined flames.

Still, it’s so fucking annoying. Not for the first time, he wonders if he should tell them the truth. Keigo took it well enough. Surely they would accept it too, after a while. And maybe then he would be able to explain why trusting Endeavor isn’t something he can ever do. Why, even if he’s not lying, he doesn’t deserve a second chance.

(Perhaps Dabi is a bit of a hypocrite – after all, he himself is sitting here, on a plush carpet in a luxurious mansion, instead of rotting in a prison cell like he probably should. But he never claimed to be a good person. And it’s not like he thinks he deserves his second chance either.)

Really, the only thing holding him back from telling them everything is fear. He’s never been the best at trusting people, even people closest to him – his own boyfriend was a traitor, after all, no matter how much they didn’t talk about it – and so opening up about something this big terrifies him.

What if they don’t believe him? What if they think he’s making it up specifically to convince them to give up on Endeavor? Or worse, what if they do believe him and then hate him for what he’s done? Or what he hasn’t done?

(He was supposed to protect them.)

“New dad sounds cool.” Shouto nods to himself, staring at his plushie with an intensity no other six-year-old could ever hope to achieve. “You should marry All Might, mum. Or Gang Orca. They seem cool.”

“I second the Gang Orca proposition,” Dabi says, allowing his messy thoughts to take a backseat for a moment. He tries to keep his expression serious, but he can feel the corners of his mouth twitching. “I heard he’s great with kids.”

Fuyumi huffs and rolls her eyes, although she too is hiding a smile. Natsuo’s eyes light up and he nearly jumps out of his seat, cards all but forgotten.

“Yeah, Gang Orca is so awesome! You should totally marry him, mum!”

Rei laughs quietly, looking at all of them with fondness. She’s been doing better these last few weeks, Dabi noticed. With Endeavor’s absence, she’s gained some of her control back. She’s not fine yet – she might never be, not fully – but Dabi thinks this time spent with her children is really doing her good.

“I will think about it,” she promises softly. 

Unfortunately, not everyone likes fun in this house.

“Can you all please take it seriously for a minute?” Fuyumi sighs, folding her arms. There’s no evidence left of her smiling just a moment ago. “I know he hurt us, okay? I’m not stupid, I know he’s not perfect and that he needs to put… a lot of effort into fixing this if it’s going to work, but… He’s our father. I want to give him a chance. Is that really so bad?”

“It’s been over three weeks of his ‘trying’,” Dabi points out, making sure to visualise the air quotes, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “And nothing’s really changed, has it?”

Believe him, he’s not being cruel because he enjoys it. He would love nothing else but to allow her this hope – if only he wasn’t so sure it’s going to hurt her.

His sister winces and he tries not to feel guilty about it. “That’s not true. He’s been doing better. It’s just—it’s not that easy.”

“What, not being an asshole? I don’t see you, or anyone else here, struggling with that.”

She sends him a pointed glare. “I would say there is one such person.”

“Come on now, no fighting,” Rein intervenes before Dabi can respond. “Fuyumi, don’t be mean to your brother. And Touya, Fuyumi has a right to forgive your father if she wants to. It’s completely understandable if you can’t, of course, but—”

“Whatever,” he interrupts harshly, springing up from his place on the floor. He’s not sure where the sudden anger is coming from, but he grits his teeth and clenches his fists to keep it in. The last thing he wants is to take it out on them. “Believe his lies if you want to, see if I care. But don’t tell me I didn’t warn you when it all blows up in your face.”

Not waiting for a response, he storms out of the room, heading for the front door. He ignores it when they call after him. His entire body is buzzing with rage, the same rage that seems to be permanently lurking under his skin, waiting for the smallest spark to prompt it and send him into a fit. It won’t go away, he knows, unless he takes it out on something. And this something sure as hell isn’t going to be his family.

Not bothering to grab any of the stuff he might need, Dabi gets out of the house and nearly runs towards the train station. There is only one place he needs to be right now.  

***

Dabi doesn’t mean to become a vigilante – it just sort of happens.

To be honest, when he came here for his very cool and very illegal tattoo, he thought it would be the first and the last time he ever visits this particular part of town this time around. He should have known better. The tantalizing promise of familiarity and freedom ends up pulling him back in like a magnet. Soon, he finds himself back where he belongs – in the dark alleys and abandoned buildings, places that leave his clothes dirty and his knuckles bloody, and echo oh so painfully with the faded voices of his old friends. It’s a strange sort of addiction one develops from living in places like this, something unlike any drug. The thrill of danger awaiting at every turn, the exhilaration of once again barely evading death, the primal desire to dominate those weaker than you – this deep unnamed craving in your chest that drags you deeper and deeper until you can’t function without it. It doesn’t matter who Todoroki Touya was or what kind of life Dabi managed to steal from him. In the end, Dabi is and will always be just another outcast left on these streets to rot.

You can take the rat out of the sewers, but you can’t take the sewers out of the rat – or something like that.

The point is, things got weird in the house after Endeavor’s little change of heart and Dabi needed some outlet for his growing frustrations. So he started leaving. Not permanently, never permanently, but more and more with each day. And, well, one thing led to another and suddenly he’s sneaking out every night to punch some baddies in the face. These streets are dangerous after dark, full of shady people doing shady things, and Dabi is strong.

It only makes sense that he accidentally earns himself a reputation.

Frankly, he hates it. He’s not trying to be hero. It’s just, beating the shit out of people is a really great way to let off some steam, you know? Always has been. It’s fun! And Dabi really, really need some fun right now. What he also needs though is not to be arrested – so vigilanting it is. It’s not like he cares about saving anyone – he doesn’t. He’s just taking advantage of the fact that society will gladly turn a blind eye to his morally questionable actions if his victims happen to be criminals. That’s all there is to it.

(Often, he finds himself thinking how funny it is that doing exactly the same things to civilians would instantly classify him back as a villain. The double standards these people have are honestly disgusting.)  

Effortlessly twisting some thug’s arm behind his back until it lets out an ugly snap, he kicks at the guys knees to get him down. He caught this one trying to beat up some old man in one of the less populated alleys. The grandpa must have been over seventy and could barely walk, wobbling unsteadily even with a cool silver cane as his support.

(And like, who does that? Even for a bad guy, that's just pathetic. What was he even going to steal from that man? His false teeth?)

The criminal is much bigger than him and heavier too, but currently he’s not putting up much of a fight – probably because Dabi made sure to hit him over the head with that cool silver cane just moments earlier – so really, it’s almost too easy to immobilize him. Dabi’s sort of disappointed. Are his fighting skills that good or are the villains here truly so pathetic? Whenever he happened to fight someone in hand-to-hand combat before – which, admittedly, was not often – it tended to pose a bit more of a challenge.

Though, now that he's thinking about it, maybe fighting is just easier in general when your skin doesn’t feel like it’s going to tear with one harsher tug.

Dabi smiles bitterly at that thought as he pulls out some glittery pink cable ties (what? he's having fun, okay?) and uses them to secure the guy’s hands together in case he turns out to be even more of an idiot and tries to run. Then, he grabs the discarded cane and hits him over the head once again for good measure. Honestly, attacking a grandpa? What kind of lame villain this guy must be?

Dabi sighs as he looks around – they are quite deep in this alley, not very far from the main street but also not close enough for anyone to notice them easily – and wonders if he should call the police. The hero patrols in this district are basically non-existent, so just leaving the guy to be found and arrested is, unfortunately, not an option. That’s probably why people are so eager to welcome a new vigilante, now that he thinks about it – he might be something of an enigma, someone a bit too violent and maybe a little too short not to raise any eyebrows, but at least he helps. The same cannot be said about any regular authorities.

Still, Dabi knows he should alert someone. He relives this exact dilemma every time he beats up yet another villain and it might have only been a few weeks, but there were a lot of them. Like, a lot. Unfortunately, his options are pretty limited. Technically, he could set the man on fire and be done with it, but he’s trying this whole ‘not killing people’ thing this time around, so that’s one idea out. He could also simply leave him be, he supposes, but he knows the guy will most likely manage to escape before anyone else stumbles upon him and who knows what victims he might target next. Old ladies selling flowers? Kids with cancer? Puppies? Dabi isn't too keen on letting that happen.

On the other hand, he fucking hates police. He hates them almost as much as he hates heroes – not surprising, after all the times they turned him away when he tried to tell them about his father's abuse and they told him to stop making stupid jokes. Asking them for help feels like a betrayal to his younger self. Plus, he despises phone calls.

Maybe he can start a fire in the garbage can nearby so someone would have to come take a look?

Before he can decide, he hears a thump of someone landing on the ground behind him and suddenly there’s a lot of white fabric wrapped all around him. He glances down at it blankly, then experimentally tries to move his arm. The fabric doesn’t budge an inch. It feels unnaturally hard against his skin, like it’s made of metal or something. The feeling is, regrettably, quite familiar feeling. And, like, come on. Why does it have to happen to him?

“Eraser,” he sighs under his breath and doesn’t let himself relax. He might be more or less sure the hero wouldn’t hurt him without a reason, but, well, arresting him is a completely different thing.

Instincts are a fucking bitch to control though and so he’s burning the capture weapon before he can think any better, rather annoyed that he’s the one being restrained when the real criminal is lying on the ground right next to him. Stretching his newly freed limbs, he turns around to face the intruder and is met with Eraser’s unimpressed expression. The hero has his arms crossed over his chest, looking exactly like a teacher scolding a misbehaving student – but his body is taut and ready to strike at a moment’s notice. He doesn’t attack first though and so Dabi doesn’t either.

Some tenseness leaves the man once he gets a good look at Dabi’s face and his eyebrows raise in surprise. “You’re that kid.”

Dabi clenches his fists, cursing inwardly and trying very hard to keep his own expression neutral, lest he gives himself away. He’s wearing a medical mask, for fuck’s sake. How did the hero even recognize him?. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Sadly, Eraserhead does not look like he buys it. “What, you mean to tell me there is more than one kid with a powerful blue fire quirk wandering around this part of town?”  

Dabi shrugs, continuing to play indifferent. He knew he shouldn’t have used his quirk those few times. It was bound to bite him in the ass. “Do I look like I know everyone here?”

“Yes.”

“Rude.”

Eraser is not apologetic, simply sending him a deadpan look in response. Dabi rolls his eyes, but finds it hard to be truly offended. Especially considering he does look very much like a delinquent. And also that there’s an unconscious, beaten up guy lying right next to him.

“Who’s that?” the hero changes the subject abruptly, pointing at the unmoving body. He seems more curious than angry, meaning he probably already knows the answer.

“Some dick who thought beating up old people was an okay thing to do,” Dabi drawls with another shrug, grimacing slightly at the memory of the terrified, bruised old man, barely managing to stagger away without the support of his cane but too eager to leave after his assailant was pushed off him to bother with picking it up.

“So, I’m assuming you’re the new vigilante?” The man narrows his eyes, his head tilted just so, and takes a step closer. Dabi tenses instantly, ready to defend himself if he has to. “Dabi, is it?”

Yes, so maybe he did make sure people know him under that name again. What about it. Ever since he arrived in this weird past it was ‘Touya this’, ‘Touya that’ and he’s gotten sick of it. It’s not his name anymore – his name is Dabi. He chose it, he made it his own and he wants to be called that again. Even if only by the criminals he takes down.

“Depends who’s asking,” he answers warily, subtly checking if there’s a chance he might be able to run away somehow.

The answer is not really, at least if he wants to keep his record in this world murder-free for a little bit longer.

Eraser frowns. “You know who I am. I heard you call my hero name.”

“Yes,” Dabi says, sighing heavily at the fact that he needs to explain. “But is it Eraserhead asking me? Or is it you?”

The man’s dark eyes widen slightly in realization. “Oh, you’re asking if I’m going to arrest you.”

Dabi snorts. “Wow, how did you figure it out?”

It’s a bit bizarre to see Eraser like this. So young and kinda clumsy. He looks a lot like Dabi remembers him – his hair is just as messy, his clothes baggy and unfashionable, the dark circles under his eyes as present as ever. His posture, though, is different. Not as confident. Tense. Far from the hero he fought during this whole training camp thing. The future Eraser was definitely older than Dabi, a proper adult, hardened by life and years of work experience. This version of him is clearly younger, maybe twenty, fresh in the hero industry.

Eraser stares at him for a long moment as if debating intensely over his choices, until finally he tsks. “I’m not going to arrest you. You have no idea how much I heard about you these past few weeks.” He sighs and rubs his temples. “How old even are you?”

Dabi can’t help but scoff. “As if I would tell you.”

“You’re clearly too young—”

“I’m old enough.”

They glare at each other, both waiting for the other to give up, and Dabi used to play this childish game with Shigaraki so much he could easily do this all night. Eventually, the hero sighs again and looks away. Dabi can’t help but smirk in satisfaction.

“You said you weren’t homeless and yet you spend so much time here,” the man pries, watching Dabi like a hawk. “Why?”

Irrationally, Dabi feels the need to cover the bruises that aren’t even that visible under his clothes. It’s a ridiculous urge. They’re not even from home this time! He got them from his vigilante fights! So why the hell does it matter if Eraser sees them?

“Someone has to, since heroes clearly don’t give a fuck about this place,” he counters bitterly, hoping to change the subject from his home situation to the general hero hating. 

It doesn't work.

“Still, you’re out pretty late." Eraser pushes, his gaze piercing. "Your parents aren’t worried?”

Dabi rolls his eyes, way too tired to bother with niceties and very much done with this useless conversation. “Jesus, can’t you just fuck off? It’s none of your fucking business what my parents think.”

It’s getting late, he thinks. He really should be heading back if he wants to be able to buy his regular energy drinks before heading back and still be home before anyone notices his absence. Rei would definitely panic if she found his bed empty and that’s literally the last thing he needs.   

Eraser doesn’t seem put off by his rather rude answer though, merely levelling him with yet another unimpressed look. “It is my business if they’re neglecting you. No kid your age should be out at night fighting crime, no matter how good you think you are at it.”

“You don’t know what age I am.” Dabi reminds him flatly.

Eraser raises an eyebrow. “From your behaviour, I would say you’re definitely a high schooler.” Wait, what. “Your voice is another tell. You sound almost like my cousin and he's twelve." Okay, fuck not being a villain, Dabi is going to torch that guy. "The point is, you’re clearly underage and that’s all I care about. It’s just…" the hero hesitates, most likely already knowing what kind of reaction to expect. "If your parents are mistreating you, you can tell me. I will help you.”

Dabi lets out another snort, the familiar sting of burning anger humming under his skin. “Oh yeah, I’m sure you will. Just like the police did when they told me to stop making stupid jokes, right? Just like everyone else did when they found out. When they laughed it off and said it was impossible, that I must be exaggerating.” His voice is filled with years’ old resentment and disgust. Then he chuckles darkly. “Abuse. So funny, isn’t it?" Turning serious again, he continues, forceful enough to hopefully make the man leave him alone for good, "You can’t do shit about my parents, hero, so just take this fucker to jail or whatever and kindly fuck off.”

He didn’t mean to say any of that. He’s not sure why he did. Not willing to deal with the annoyance any longer than necessary, Dabi attempts to make his way past the man towards the entrance of the alley. At first, the man does nothing to stop him, allowing him to pass without a word. Still, Dabi’s breath is already speeding up and there are flickers of fire dancing between his fingers and shit, he’s pissed again, great, just after he managed to finally calm down.

Fucking heroes.

“Wait!”

What did he just say? Gritting his teeth, he continues to stomp away. What does this man want from him? If he’s not going to arrest him, then Dabi sees no point in talking to him any further.

Eraser clearly disagrees. “Dabi, wait!” he repeats, a bit less demanding, a bit more pleading.

Dabi does not wait. When he hears the capture weapon coming again (hasn’t Dabi burned it? how much of it does Eraser have?), he immediately raises a wall of fire to prevent it from reaching him. The fabric hisses as it burns, leaving behind a rather unpleasant smell. Dabi glares at the annoying hero with all the rage he can muster, trying very hard not to imagine how nicely his skin would hiss under his flames too.

“I said. Fuck. Off.”

Not bothering to wait and see if the man will listen, Dabi makes his fire burn higher, effectively obscuring himself from view for the precious few seconds it takes him to run away. He spares a moment to hope no one dies in the fire he’s leaving behind, but honestly? At this point, he really couldn’t care less.

***

The next day is, regrettably, a school day. And school is… bad. Very bad. Horrible, even. Nightmarish. Awful. Abhorrent. Disgusting. Dreadful. The worst thing that has ever happened to him and he’s been literally burned to death before. Vile. Bad.

You get the picture.

He hates to say it but it’s true. That bullshit Keigo sprouted about Touya’s ingenuity? Yeah, that’s definitely gone. Dabi just wasn’t made for math, you know? Some people aren’t math people and that’s okay. That’s how it is. He couldn’t tell you what a differential is, sure, but he could easily break your leg, so really, who’s the winner here? And hey, it’s not like he’s ever going to use fractions to fight crime.

Hopefully.

“Wow, that’s bad,” Keigo says in a voice that’s probably supposed to be sympathetic. It doesn’t quite work, especially when his lips are stretched into a satisfied smirk as he casually waves around his paper where a proud 100% is written in red ink.

Dabi fights a ridiculous urge to cover his own red fat 0% somehow, rolling his eyes at Keigo’s childish antics. So what if he didn’t pass some stupid test? It doesn’t define him as a human being. It doesn’t mean that Keigo is better than him or anything. It’s simply bad luck, that’s all.

“Who cares about this shit?” He pushes the test away with a little too much force and leans back on his chair. “I will still kick everyone’s asses in practical class.”

Practical classes are probably the only reason his parents haven’t been contacted yet about his atrocious results from every single test they’ve taken in the past few weeks. That’s where he thrives – while beating people up, not reading some boring books. He’s pretty sure most teachers are convinced he’s going through something right now and that’s why they kind of go easy on him - even though he can’t even spell his name without making a fucking mistake. But he’s not stupid enough to believe it’s going to last.

“Look, I get it, you had a hard life,” Keigo continues, somehow having grabbed Dabi’s paper in the meantime. His faces twists into an unattractive grimace once he reads a particularly offensive answer. “But seriously, how can you not know what a function is?”

Dabi huffs. “I didn’t need it to do crime.” For a short moment, he lets himself enjoy the sight of Keigo trying not to look too disturbed by such an easy admittance of his previous nefarious deeds. But because he isn’t an entirely evil person, he continues with something less serious, “Also, I’m gay. I’m formally obligated to suck at math.”

Keigo lets out a surprised snort, which he ineptly tries to cover. Dabi can’t stop himself from sending him a self-satisfied grin. He loves being able to predict his friend’s reactions so well. Messing with him is way more fun that way.

“Shut up. I’m gay too and I did just fine.”

‘Just fine’, Dabi repeats mockingly in his head, glaring at the perfect score on Keigo’s paper. Sure, you could call it that.

Out loud, he says, “Didn’t you know? It’s a rule. You can’t cook and you can’t drive a car so you’re allowed to be good at math. But since I can cook, I’m legally required to be awful at both driving and math.”

Keigo rolls his eyes in exasperation, even as his mouth twitches in a beginning of a smile. “I would say you’re just awful, period.”

Dabi can only let out an offended gasp before whatever he’s about to answer gets drowned out by the bell ringing, signalling the end of the nightmare class. It’s just in time too, because immediately after it silences, Dabi’s stomach rumbles loudly – and, fortunately for him, it’s the lunch period. Keigo is already holding his bento that his loving mother apparently makes him every day – yeah, that’s a thing here, which is just super weird – and staring at Dabi impatiently. When did he even manage to stand up? Just to annoy him, and also because he can, Dabi takes his sweet time reaching for his own food. Never say he misses a chance to be a nuisance.  

Unlike most other days, when he simply grabs a single sad banana or a plain piece of bread – no, Keigo, he’s not trying to starve himself, okay, he’s just lazy – today, Dabi has his own rich bento, a (non)-living proof of his earlier claim about knowing how to cook. If someone were to ask him, he would swear he got manipulated into making it, since he’s a dramatic bitch. What actually happened was that Fuyumi bribed him with some nice make-up stuff to cook something for her and Natsu and, well, since he was already making food for them, then why not make some for himself too? That eyeshadow palette better be worth the two hours of sleep he lost because of it though.

“I’m seriously going to leave without you, if you don’t hurry up,” Keigo grumbles, resting his hip against his desk and crossing his arms over his chest. Irritation is such a lovely look on him.

“And leave your boyfriend to eat alone?” Dabi flutters his eyelashes innocently, face twisted into an exaggerated pout. But he does finish getting ready considerably quicker, so it’s still Keigo’s win in the end, even if his face colours a pretty shade of red.

“I’m not your boyfriend!”

“Boyfriend, fake-boyfriend, same difference.” Dabi waves a hand dismissively. Having collected all of his stuff, he jumps from his seat, grabs Keigo’s wrist and starts pulling him towards the door. “It still wouldn’t look well if you abandoned me like that.”

After he more-or-less accidentally told his father that Keigo was his boyfriend things got even more complicated between everyone involved. Endeavor, being a homophobic piece of shit, has been rather insistent in trying to convince him that he’s making a mistake and should pursue a genetically pleasant young lady instead – even going so far as to show Dabi some pictures to choose from, despite the silent (and occasionally less silent) disapproval from Rei. Naturally, Dabi’s response to those offers was usually a raised middle finger, accompanied by a firm reminder that he’s already a taken man and is not planning on changing that anytime soon. Although, he has to admit that while his father’s continued disapproval was the main incentive for keeping up the lie, the chance to see Keigo blush way more often was a close second.

They talked about this – or more like Dabi whined at Keigo until his friend reluctantly agreed – and so they decided to give this whole fake-dating thing a try. This way, Dabi not only gets to live out his fanfic fantasy but also has a chance to experience dating baby Hawks without feeling like a creep about it. They haven’t done anything more serious than a slightly prolonged hug or an occasional kiss on the cheek and Dabi fully intends to keep it that way.

To make sure the lie held up, Dabi insisted they needed to be seen as a couple by everyone, not just his parents, and so they continued the charade even at school. There were some mean comments directed at them at first, sure, but nothing too nasty. Most students and teachers already thought they were dating anyway, so in the end it wasn’t that big of a deal.  

Still, Dabi loves using this ‘relationship’ of theirs to his advantage. Keigo usually lets him, even if he’s a bit of a bitch about it.

“I’m sure people would understand.” His friend snorts, but intertwines their fingers anyway. The sensation is strange – Dabi and adult Hawks did a lot of romantic things with each other, but holding hands was not one of them – yet he finds himself enjoying it way too much for how innocent it is. “They have all met you, after all.”

Before Dabi can find some witty response to that, he’s interrupted by someone clearing their throat right behind them. This someone being their unusually serious math teacher.

Almost unwillingly, Dabi turns around to face her, Keigo following suit. He really doesn’t like her face expression – it can’t mean anything good for him, especially not after that failure of a test. Judging by the way Keigo squeezes his hand tighter, he isn’t alone in his worry.

The teacher is sat behind her desk and yet somehow she seems to be towering over them. The power she holds in a single polite smile is frankly terrifying. “Ah, Todoroki. Can you stay behind for a moment? I think we need to talk.”

He will never admit it out loud but her calm voice sends a shiver down his spine. Suddenly, he’s very glad to have something to hold on to, even if Keigo’s hand begins to feel a little sweaty.

With his free hand, Dabi scratches his neck nervously, a slip-up he instantly berates himself for. “I was actually going to eat lunch now…”

“It won’t take long,” she cuts him off, still with that blood-chilling smile.

“Yeah, well…”

Her gaze turns sharp. “I insist.”

Resigned to his fate, Dabi sighs and nods. He might be a lot of things but he’s definitely not a coward. If he’s to be murdered by his math teacher for being an absolute moron, then so be it. Maybe it’s his punishment for all his previous sins – being forced to tremble in fear before a woman shorter than him by at least fifteen centimetres because of fucking numbers. What a pitiful end to the big bad villain Dabi. 

“Takami, you can go eat your lunch in peace,” she says, sending the other boy a pointed look. “I would like to speak with Todoroki privately.”

“Oh.” Keigo blinks, clearly unsure how to proceed. His gaze meets Dabi’s, desperately searching for any clues. “Well, I—”

“It’s fine,” Dabi decides to save his birdie from his misery, even if he really would prefer not to be left alone with that frightening woman. Still, he has an image to maintain, so he schools his expression into blank indifference and waves Keigo off. “Just save us some seats or something. I will join you soon.”

“Ah, sure.” Keigo chuckles nervously, hesitantly letting go of Dabi’s hand. It’s a little pathetic, but he immediately feels cold without it. On his way out of the classroom, Keigo looks back at him one more time before awkwardly saying, “Eee… Good luck?” and then immediately bolting.

So much for being a supportive fake-boyfriend.

“So,” the teacher starts casually as she stands up and slowly walks up to Dabi’s usual desk. She grabs the abandoned test, takes one look at it and grimaces in disgust. Her expression doesn’t change much when she raises her eyes to stare at him. “Care to tell me what the hell this is?”

Her tone is deceptively calm, friendly even. It clashes terribly with her very un-teacherlike words. Are teachers even allowed to swear? Maybe Dabi could report her to the principal for it, get her fired before she can fail him?

“I will take a wild guess and say it’s a math test,” he mumbles in response and despite the mocking words there’s none of his usual cheek in them.

He briefly considers burning himself to death there and then as he feels his cheeks burn with shame that has no right to be there. He shouldn’t care about a stupid math test, not after everything that’s happened to him and yet. No matter how many times he loses, no matter how many thigs he fucks up, the acidic taste of failure in his mouth never gets any easier to swallow. Yet another thing to thank his father for, he supposes.

“It’s the third time in a row,” she says, completely ignoring his weak attempt at a joke. “Everything you wrote here is wrong. Everything. Half of these things we’ve already covered last year and I know you had no problems then!”

Not knowing what he could possibly answer to that, Dabi stays silent. It’s not like he can tell her that it wasn’t him who passed those previous tests. How can he explain that his father didn’t deem math important enough to include it in his home-schooling, not when he couldn’t even get the fighting part right? That while living on the streets the only important numbers where the number of days he could survive without food or how many new scars he’s got this week?

“I know you’ve been… going through something recently.” Her pointed stare lands on his dyed hair, his piercings, the black fishnets visible through large holes he cut in his uniform pants. “And I’ve been trying to be understanding, because I know how hard it must be for you, I do.”

Ah, there it is. The going through something excuse. She’s not wrong per se, Dabi has definitely been going through a lot recently – randomly time travelling ten years into the past is not exactly an everyday occurrence – but, sadly, it has nothing to do with his atrocious math skills. Of course, he’s can’t tell her that either. He’s not that stupid. It’s better if she simply believes he’s got so much on his shoulders that he just can’t focus on school properly. That has always been his plan to somehow hide the fact that he has nearly no school knowledge whatsoever. Only, as has been proven to him rather unpleasantly, it was only going to work for a pretty short amount of time.

“But we have rules here at Shiketsu and one of those rules is that every student needs to pass every subject, no matter if their primary interest is heroics,” she continues, trying to appear stern and apologetic at the same time. “Otherwise, you’re going to get expelled. And Todoroki, with how you’ve been doing recently, I’m afraid you’re going to fail my class.”

He winces, even though he wasn’t expecting anything else. “Okay.”

Dabi can’t really force himself to look at the teacher. He doesn’t need to see her disappointment as she’s telling him how much of a failure he is. Weird, really, that sudden apprehension. Shouldn’t he be used to it by now? Endeavor certainly never held back in reminding him about that fact. From the very beginning, from the first time he’s heard ‘school’ uttered at him, he’s known there was no way he would manage not to get kicked out.

It’s fine. He doesn’t need this shitty school. If that’s what they want, great, kick him out. At least he won’t have to bother with stupid homework anymore. And Endeavor’s going to be so delightfully mad too!

(Or he’s just going to laugh, his traitorous mind whispers venomously, say that he’s known from the very beginning that Dabi wasn’t good enough even for the inferior school like Shiketsu.)

(Shut up.)

Eventually, after the silence between them turns slightly uncomfortable, Dabi looks up at her. Instead of pity or disappointment he’s expecting, he’s met with determination. He blinks, taken aback.

“That’s all you have to say?” She raises an eyebrow, pursing her lips. “You’re really going to give up, just like that? Are you a hero student or not?”

Not, Dabi thinks, crossing his arms defensively and frowning at her. “Well, what do you want me to do?”

“I never said I’m failing you right now. It’s still possible for you to pass. We’re having this talk so you can consider how you’re going to do that.”

Can he even do that? Does he want to? He would have to put some work into his studies, that’s for sure. And even then, with so many gaps in his education, it might still be impossible to learn everything he needs for that class. Why would he waste time for something that can only end in failure? Wouldn’t it be easier, to give up now and spare himself the inevitable let-down?  

“Maybe I don’t want to do that,” he challenges, twisting his face into an ugly grimace. Why does she care anyway? With his recent rude behaviour, shouldn’t she be happy to get rid of him?

The teacher ignores him, as if she didn’t hear a word. “There is still one test left before the final exam. If you get at least 50% on the test and 60% on the exam, you will be able to pass.”

50%? 60%? Is she kidding? That’s definitely impossible.

“Have you somehow missed that zero on that?” He gestures towards the piece of paper the teacher is still holding. His voice is mocking, purposely disrespectful. “I will never be able to get a fifty.”

She furrows her eyebrows. “You got 23% on the previous test.” Yeah, because he cheated. Duh. “You still have two weeks until the next one. I see that you’re very… close… with Takami,” she pauses here, her frown deepening and it’s hard to tell whether it’s because they are two boys or because of that ridiculous rule about not dating at all that Shiketsu has for some reason. Still, she moves on without any further comments, “I’m sure he would be happy to help you with studying. Maybe ask your father for a tutor too. There’s a lot of options and giving up shouldn’t be one of them.”

Oh, yeah, great idea. Dabi’s sure his father would rather eat his own shoe than hire a tutor for any of his kids. Needing help means you’re not perfect. Not being perfect means you’re worthless. And if you’re worthless… well, he’s sure you can imagine.

Although, now that he thinks about it, maybe asking Endeavor for help and getting berated for it isn’t such a bad idea. If nothing else, it would be a good way to show his family that no matter what the man claims, he’s still the same asshole he’s always been. Too proud and selfish to care about his poor son’s education. He wonders what excuses Fuyumi would find to that.

Keigo… look, he doesn’t doubt that Keigo would be ecstatic to help him. Not to mention that he is kind of a genius at this whole school thing. The idea of asking him still doesn’t quite sit well with Dabi though. The teasing he would have to endure… Not getting expelled just isn’t worth it.

On the other hand, if he actually does get kicked out, he will never hear the end of it. Keigo made it very clear many times, particularly while trying to convince him to wear that horrendous uniform, that he really doesn’t want Dabi to leave. Especially since they are kind of each other’s only close friends, at least in their year.   

The teacher must notice his internal battle because her face visibly softens. She looks more like she’s talking to a spooked wild animal than a failing student and Dabi tries very hard not to get offended. “You’re a smart boy, you’re just having some troubles. It happens to everyone.” She throws the test away, letting it fall to the ground carelessly. “Forget about failures. Fight for your place here, not because I’m telling you to, but because you deserve it. It might be hard but once you succeed, it’s going to be the best feeling in the world.”

He opens his mouth to… protest, maybe, he doesn’t even know, but it doesn’t matter because then she’s smiling at him gently and it’s so foreign that it strikes him speechless. 

“I know you can do this, Touya. You just need to believe it too.”

When Dabi finally finds Keigo, his mind still mulling over the teacher’s words, he’s displeased to see that his friend is not alone.

Two other people accompany him, both of them upperclassmen, both of them girls, both of them vaguely familiar. The first one seems absolutely normal, nothing unusual about her, average height, blond long hair, some nice curves – and yet her face rings a bell in his head, telling him that he must have seen her before, even though he can’t quite recall where. The other one though, with her white hair, dark skin and bunny ears, is easily identifiable as a younger version of Hawks’ best friend and his sister’s future girlfriend, Miruko.

Dabi hates his luck sometimes.

It’s not like he doesn’t know Keigo has friends in upper years. The boy references them often enough, yet somehow Dabi hasn’t met them until this very moment. Which, now that he thinks about it, seems kind of weird. Has Keigo been keeping them away from him on purpose?

Not anymore, it seems, since that’s the moment Keigo catches sight of him and starts waving enthusiastically, clearly inviting him to join them. A resigned sigh escapes his mouth. There’s no escaping socializing today. Usually, he doesn’t mind other people that much – yeah, no, that’s a lie. People suck. You know what else sucks? Having to deal with the girl who tried to kill him with her murderous kicks multiple times, even before she knew about his relationship with Hawks.

Having no other choice, he walks towards them, but he purposedly makes it slow. He’s definitely not in a hurry to get another shovel talk from Miruko, especially since this time he isn’t even dating Keigo for real.

The table they occupy is, unfortunately, right in the middle of the cafeteria. He attracts some stray looks as he approaches, but not many. The excitement about Dabi’s antics has died down rather significantly over the last few weeks, depraving him of this school’s last redeeming feature. There are still occasional people who shout an insult at him or scold him about refusing to wear the embarrassing hat, but that’s basically it. No fun at all. Even Kaneko hasn’t been bothering them much. 

“I didn’t know we would have company,” he greets the group in a dry voice, raising one eyebrow as he examines the two girls. They’re both smiling, but while the other girl seems genuinely friendly, Miruko’s grin is dangerously sharp. “You must be the friends Keigo constantly talks about.”

“Oh, does he? How nice,” Miruko purrs, resting her chin on her palm, her eyes narrowing as she watches him intensely. “We’ve heard quite a lot about you too.”

Dabi snorts, sitting down next to Keigo and casually putting his arm around the other boy’s shoulders, causing him to blush. “Let me guess, it wasn’t all good things, hm?”

Miruko’s eyes flash darkly at the sight of the casual affection and her voice is a little harsher when she responds, “No, not quite.”

“Rumi!” Keigo squawks, glaring at her in betrayal.

“What? It’s true, isn’t it, Yu?” she addresses the other girl who’s only been observing them, more than a little amused, this whole time. Yu, as she’s apparently named, is busying herself with sipping on her juice. She kind of looks like she would like some popcorn as well.

“I suppose.” The girl shrugs, tilting her head a little. “But don’t let her worry you so much, it’s mostly been good things.”

“Of course they were, my dear Keigo here adores me, don’t you, darling?” Dabi asks sweetly, making sure to have the most lovesick expression on his face that he can manage. It’s not really that hard, he has to admit with some embarrassment.            

Predictably, the reaction he gets is some undignified spluttering and Keigo’s face turning even redder. His eyes are slightly widened, even as he attempts to escape Dabi’s gaze and it takes a lot of self-control on Dabi’s part not to burst out laughing. It’s not the first time he’s done something like this – used pet names, initiated physical affection – but it is the first time he’s done it so explicitly in front of someone other than Dabi’s family.

“I don’t know where you got that idea,” Keigo mumbles, trying to subtly escape from Dabi’s clutches while simultaneously attempting to regain some of his dignity. “Right now, I hate everything about you.”

“Everything?” Dabi lets a devilish smirk form on his face, then quickly leans in to place a kiss on Keigo’s cheek. “Even this?”

“Please, stop with your disgusting PDA, we’re in public,” Miruko says, pretending to gag.

Dabi laughs, even as Keigo pushes him away rather violently. Teasing the little bird is just so fun he can’t help himself, especially since older Hawks never had those adorable reactions to his antics. His Hawks wouldn’t get so flustered about a little kiss. He would probably roll his eyes in false irritation, maybe pinch him for being an idiot, but then he would stick his tongue out at Miruko for her comment and proceed to make out with Dabi even more enthusiastically, just to be a little shit. And then…

Well. It doesn’t matter what Hawks would have done. Hawks isn’t here anymore. And Dabi’s heart might squeeze painfully for a moment, grieving what he will probably never get back. No matter how amusing Keigo is, no matter how fun it is to rile him up… It’s just not the same.

But it doesn’t matter, he reminds himself forcefully, because Keigo is here and it’s enough. It has to be enough.

“Now, Keigo’s friend, don’t tell me you’re homophobic,” Dabi gasps dramatically, shoving the unwanted thoughts into a dark corner of his mind where he doesn’t have to confront them. 

“I’m gay, dumbass, I just don’t enjoy seeing you two being all lovely-dovely when I’m still painfully single,” she deadpans, rolling her eyes. Then her lips curl up into a small smirk. “And the name is Usagiyama, Rumi Usagiyama.”

“Todoroki Touya,” he replies, offering her a small nod. “But I guess you already knew that.”

Rumi snorts, muttering under her breath something that sounds suspiciously like ‘hard not to’.

“I’m Yu Takeyama,” the other girl offers cheerily, sticking out her hand so he can shake it. He does, reluctantly, just as he realizes where exactly it is that he knows her from. “Nice to officially meet you, Todoroki.”

Back in his world, Yu Takeyama has just recently started her ascend into fame as a hero. The League never really dealt with her personally but they did own a TV and if you watched any news, you would have heard of her. Mt. Lady, she called herself. Pretty fitting, considering her quirk. Dabi kind of assumed she went to U.A., since most of the top heroes did, so it’s a bit surprising to meet her here, but to think of it, nothing in this strange world really makes sense. Why would this be any different?

“It’s Touya,” he corrects her quickly, grimacing. “I don’t really like my last name.”

Her smile doesn’t waver. “Touya then.”

Pleasantries behind, Dabi decides to dug into his food. He isn’t about to go hungry for the rest of the day just because he was too busy with small talk. Fortunately for him, Keigo follows his lead and also starts picking on the food that so far he’s been ignoring. The girls don’t have anything with them though, except for Yu’s juice, so they’re left watching. If Dabi was a better person, perhaps he would have offered to share, but the two hours of sleep he lost to make this prevent him from making that mistake. He’s only met her a few times before, but he remembers well enough just how much Miruko can eat.

“So, Touya, what exactly are your intentions towards Keigo?”

The question is an expected one, yet it still catches Dabi by surprise. Rumi’s voice is deceptively sweet, poison dripped in honey, her eyes staring him down sharply. He pauses with his chopsticks on a way to his mouth, raising an eyebrow at her as if he had no idea what she’s talking about. Keigo panics.   

“What the fuck, Rumi?” he hisses, glaring at his amused friend.

“What? As your best friend, I have a right to know. We wouldn’t want an awful delinquent like him to hurt you, would we?”

Half-entertained, half-annoyed, Dabi fakes a pout. “I thought I was your best friend, birdie.”

“It’s not—”

“Anyway,” he continues, cutting Keigo off, his attention focused entirely on Rumi. “Isn’t this conversation something we should be having without him present?”

“You shouldn’t be having it at all!”

“Quiet, Keigo,” Yu interrupts suddenly. Her smile is just as friendly as before but her eyes suddenly seem darker. “Let’s hear his response.”

With all eyes trained on him, even Keigo’s, Dabi doesn’t have much of a choice. He sighs, dropping his arms in defeat.

“Obviously, I want to love and cherish him until we’re both old and ugly and then I want us to be buried together in a romantic double grave.”

His statement is met with silence. They all look rather taken aback, Dabi notices with delight. Yu’s smile turns into a cute frown, Rumi blinks at him in bewilderment and Keigo… Keigo seems to have been frozen in his place, unmoving even as his cheeks redden, either from embarrassment or building rage. Honestly, Dabi thinks to himself, they really shouldn’t have asked if they weren’t ready for the answer.

“What?” He tilts his head innocently. “Something on my face?”

***

After a lot of yelling that gets them the attention of a teacher, some apologizing and more or less pleasant small talk, the girls decide to take their leave, claiming to have something very important to do. They do offer some sort of a blessing for their romantic union, which is nice, especially since it gets Keigo flustered again. Rumi makes him promise not to be a stranger – which somehow sounds more like a threat than anything else – and then drags Yu towards the patio, waving at them until they disappear behind a door. While their company wasn’t exactly bothering him, Dabi is still glad to finally be alone with Keigo.

Or so he thinks, before he notices his friend’s suspicious stare directed at him and immediately wishes the girls would come back. Eager for any distraction available, he blurts out the first thing that comes to his mind.

“Is it weird that she’s exactly the same as I remember her?”

“Hm?” Keigo blinks at him, his mouth full of chicken. “Who?”

Dabi grimaces at the blatant lack of manners, but decides not to waste his breath. “Rumi.”

“You knew her?”

He finds himself nodding. “Unfortunately. She was my Hawks’ best friend too. The few times I met her, I honestly thought she was going to murder me. I still remember the shovel talk she gave me. I spent the next week bringing Hawks flowers every day, afraid that she’s watching and judging my merit as a boyfriend.”

Keigo frowns. “You know I’m allergic to flowers, right?”

Recalling that particular memory, Dabi shudders. “Yes. I found out.”

“She was a hero too, then? In your world?”

“Yup,” Dabi replies, popping the ‘p’. “Number Five. Quite popular with fans. Mostly girls. She enjoyed it.”

Keigo huffs a laugh, smiling fondly. “Yeah, I bet she would.”

“Fuyumi, on the other hand, did not,” he adds dryly, remembering that one time he found Miruko ranting at Hawks after some big fight the two had over it. The bunny girl made it seem like it was so serious they were on a verge of a break-up, only to be caught by some paparazzi on a disgustingly romantic date just a day later. “Apparently, she could get quite jealous. Who would have thought?”

“Fuyumi?” Keigo asks, visibly confused. “Like, your sister Fuyumi?”

“No, some other Fuyumi,” Dabi retorts, rolling his eyes. “Yes, my sister. She and Miruko were quite a happy couple, I’m told. Hawks suspected Miruko was going to propose soon.”

He wouldn’t be invited to the wedding, of course. Not officially, at least. Miruko would probably manage to sneak him in somehow though and then he could feel, if only for a moment, like he was still a part of their family. And then he would get drunk on free booze and spend the rest of the night groping his boyfriend, desperately trying not to spill why exactly Hawks’ friend’s wedding was making him so damn emotional.

“Really? I mean, good for them. Rumi deserves someone nice and Fuyumi seems great. Maybe we could—” he cuts himself off, a frown marring his pretty face. “Wait, stop. You’re trying to distract me.”

“Me? Never.”    

“Come on now,” Keigo’s tone turns stern, not unlike a parent’s scolding a disobedient child, ”what did she want to talk about?”

Dabi’s muscles twinge involuntarily just as a dark pit opens up in his stomach. It’s a good thing his food is mostly finished already, because the unexpected wave of nausea the question brings with it would have definitely killed his appetite. Avoiding meeting Keigo’s eyes, he pretends to be absorbed in picking on the small hole in his uniform jacket.  

“Who?”

Keigo continues to look unimpressed, his determination ironhard now that he’s picked up on the fact that Dabi very much does not want to talk about it. He’s clearly aware that Dabi knows who he’s talking about and his disinterested tone is just an avoidance tactic. Hawks has always been too stubborn for his own good – one of their shared features – and, well, Dabi doesn’t expect his younger version to be anything else.

“Junko-sensei.”

“Don’t know who that is.”

Is playing dumb a sound strategy to avoid having to explain what he really, really doesn’t want to explain? Nah, probably not. Is it fun to see Keigo’s feathers so sweetly ruffled? Yes. Is he going to keep it up? Also yes. As long as he can. He would rather have a full on fight with Keigo than admit to him the truth about being defeated by numbers.

Keigo grits his teeth, even as a resigned sighs escapes his mouth. His expression makes it pretty clear he has some creative insults on the tip of his tongue, begging to be released. Unfortunately for Dabi, his friend manages to keep his irritation contained, most likely knowing that if he lets this conversation turn into a bickering match, he will never get the answers he wants. Smart, for a chicken.

“Our math teacher.”  

Barely stopping himself from snorting at the forcefully calm tone of his friend, Dabi shifts his attention from the hole in his jacket to his black nails. They are more than a little roughened from his yesterday’s fights, he notices without a suprise. He doesn’t mind, not really – there’s a certain charm in the chapped colour. Something, something, beauty despite the imperfections, something, something. Dabi isn’t a fan of poetry or anything like that, but he has to admit he finds the metaphor appealing.  

“What about her?” he asks in fake confusion, tilting his head.

“What did she want to talk about.”

It’s not even phrased as a question this time, Dabi notes with some amusement. It seems Keigo’s patience is running thin. It’s a miracle he’s not already resorting to violence – Hawks certainly never had any inhibitions about it when Dabi’s teasing went on just a little bit too long. Maybe his endurance lessened with age or maybe this version of his boyfriend was simply different in that regard, who knows. Whatever it is, Dabi is still not about to make it easy for him. If his friend wants to know so badly, he will have to work for it. 

“Oh, you know…” he starts, making a vague gesture with his hand.

Keigo's voice starts getting excited. “Yes?”

“Math.”

Fed up, Keigo lets out a pained groan and slaps Dabi’s arm lightly. “That’s not what I’m asking and you know it.”

Dabi grins, resting his cheek on his palm and batting his eyelashes at the other boy innocently. “Do I?”

“Do you seriously need to be difficult about everything?”

“It’s more fun this way.” Dabi shrugs, still using one of his hands as a cushion, while the other starts to idly pick at the cold remains of his food. Even now, he doesn’t meet Keigo’s gaze.

“Or maybe,” Keigo probes, squinting at him, “you’re just avoiding the subject.”

Dabi shifts uncomfortably in his seat, an action that is not missed by his friend. Keigo’s lips quirk in a delighted little smile, showing off his impressively white teeth. Fuck, he’s about to gloat, isn’t he? It takes all of Dabi’s self-control not to burn some of those lovely feathers just to wipe that smug expression off his face.

“You really don’t want me to know what she talked to you about. I thought it would be about the test, but then you wouldn’t be so cagey. It’s something worse. Something embarrassing. Am I wrong?”

He isn’t, unfortunately. Damn chicken, too perceptive for his own good. What is Dabi supposed to do now? Should he tell him and face the unavoidable scolding? Lie and hope he won’t find out until Dabi’s already been expelled? Kill himself with a plastic spoon so he doesn’t have to be nearly twenty-five and still have to worry about fucking math?

“Alright, alright, you really want to know?” Dabi eventually asks, even to his own ears sounding a little bit like a whining child. But only a little.

“Yes, I do want to know.”

“I’m getting expelled.”

Silence. Keigo freezes in his place, face stuck somewhere between shock and disbelief. His mouth is gaping open like some braindead goldfish, letting no sound escape from it other than a single choked noise that could be a laugh or a sob. Eventually, he seems to reboot. He blinks a few times as though trying to decide whether this whole conversation is a joke or not, closes his mouth, then opens it again in another attempt to form actual words.

It would all have been pretty amusing to watch, Dabi muses sadly, if he wasn’t about to get (verbally?) murdered the moment Keigo’s brain is back on.

The dazed look doesn’t leave Keigo’s face even as he manages to croak, “Excuse me? Can you repeat that?”

“I said that I’m getting expelled.”

“Oh, my.” Keigo chuckles suddenly, his expression turning amused. Although, Dabi would have to be deaf to miss the hysterical undertone in his friend’s laugh. “My hearing must be going bad from all that high pressure in the air. Because I swear I’ve just heard you say that you’re getting expelled.”

Dabi cringes involuntarily, the acidic taste of failure back on his tongue. He doesn’t want to talk about it, but Keigo’s deadly glare is digging into him with hot intensity, clashing horribly with this too wide, too pleasant smile. With his eyes so dark, he finally resembles a true bird of prey rather than an overgrown puppy Dabi has always taken him for.

He exhales heavily. He knew his friend would make a big deal out of it.

“That’s what I said, yes.”

“Well, un-say it then, because it’s ridiculous!” Keigo’s calm facade crushes, replaced by heated indignation. His raised voice catches the attention of some other people in the cafeteria who shoot them curious looks. Especially after Keigo hits their table with his clenched fists hard enough for it to tremble. “They can’t expel you over one bad grade!”

“It’s not just that one test,” Dabi explains calmly, meeting Keigo’s fuming gaze head on. A strange warmth blooms in his guts at the realization that Keigo is not really mad at him but mostly at his behalf. “She said that to keep their place in everyone needs to pass every subject. And, apparently, I’m failing math.”

“Well, there has to be something you can do!”

Dabi shrugs, unconvinced. “I guess. I will probably still fail though.”

“Why are you so calm about this?!”

“I’m just being realistic.”

Keigo is having none of that. “No, you’re doing this whole… deflecting thing! You don’t think you can do it, so you decided to give up. Without even trying! You know I would help you if you asked. We can work on your math, I’m sure you wouldn’t be quite as bad if you actually made an effort.”

Dabi scoffs, putting as much derision into it as possible. “Yeah, no, thanks. I have better things to do than listen to you drone about algebra.”

“So what? That’s it? You’re fine with getting expelled? You don’t care at all?”

“Oh, come on, Keigo, you know I never really gave a shit about this school. I only went along with it not to raise too much suspicion and because it pissed off my dad. Nothing more and nothing less.”

“I think you’re lying.” Keigo says quietly, although it’s enough to shut Dabi up. “I think you want to stay here. I think you don’t want to leave. I think,” he leans forward, closing the distance between them to mere centimetres, “that you’re scared. That’s why you won’t even try to fight for your place here. Because you’re too afraid to lose.”

Dabi stares at his friend dumbfounded, his throat suddenly feeling dry.

“But you’re being stupid,” Keigo continues, lips pursed in disappointment that burns hotter than any fire ever could. “Because you really should know by now, based on your experience, that if you don’t try, you just lose anyway.”

Chapter Text

The only reason the hell called high school is not actually the same as the real Hell is because, eventually, it ends.

Delighted to be free for the day, Dabi nearly sprints out of the building, eager to leave both math and Keigo as far behind as humanly possible. Only, the sight that meets him right outside is enough of a nasty surprise for his body to freeze in place. It’s so gruesome and horrible that, for a short moment of foolishness, he actually considers going back inside.  

Because right there, surrounded by a bunch of awed teenagers with flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes, stands Endeavor, in all his heroic glory. He’s dressed in his usual hero costume, which, coupled with the way his muscles flex under the spandex and how he’s easily towering over everyone, makes for a rather intimidating picture. The man is tapping his leg impatiently, seeming indifferent to his young fans – and, hey, that’s just like with his children! – but the moment his gaze lands on Dabi, his expression gets twisted with rage.

Great. That’s exactly what Dabi needs right now. His father making a scene.

That was not sarcasm, by the way. He really wants Endeavor to start something unpleasant between them – he could use a fight, what with the tension buzzing insistently under his skin. If he’s lucky, someone would see and report it, and he would get expelled right here right now. Then he wouldn’t have to worry about any more stupid tests.

Endeavor does nothing to indicate he’s going to initiate a confrontation though. Instead, he simply continues glaring. The only choice Dabi has is either to face the inevitable scolding or run back inside, like a coward. Resigned to his fate, he sighs and drags his feet towards the man. The entire time, people are staring – at him, at Endeavor, at anything their simple brains find interesting. They’re probably curious what it’s like to have such a high ranking hero for a father, Dabi guesses bitterly.

Shitty, is the answer. But none of them would want to hear it.

The little group of delusional Endeavor fans flee once they notice his arrival – he must still have it, at least a bit, he concludes – leaving the man to stand alone in the middle of the schoolyard, waiting. However, Dabi has no intention of stopping for a chat, walking right past the man as though he doesn’t even see him. He spots no sign of the usual black car his chauffeur drives, but that’s fine. He can take the bus.

“Touya,” Endevor calls out to him with barely controlled anger, an unspoken order clear in his tone. “Took you long enough.”

“Do I know you?” Dabi responds innocently, without bothering to turn around. “My mum told me not to speak to strangers. Sorry.”

“Stop that.” Oh no, he sounds irritated! Whatever Dabi should do about it? “Do you always have to act like a child?”

“I don’t know,” he challenges, throwing the man an unimpressed look over his shoulder. “Do you always have to act like an abusive asshole?”

The little vein on his father’s forehead twitches as the men grits his teeth, his face slowly but surely beginning to turn red. There’s a thunder in his eyes, complimented by an ugly grimace marring his face. The iconic fire beard is gone for the moment, but the flames over his collar flicker threateningly with each of Endeavor’s breaths, as if only waiting for an excuse to be released.

Just to be sure, Dabi glances back at the school building to check if they have any cameras. Obviously, with so many students watching them – albeit from afar – finding a witness probably wouldn’t be a problem. The question is whose side they would take.

Only a few tones from outright growling, Endeavor grits out, “I told you not to speak to me like that. I am your father.”

“Are you?” Dabi asks flippantly, an unpleasant grin stretching on his lips. “Haven’t noticed.”

His father opens his mouth to retort, keeping his fists clenched tight. The sneer on his face pulls on the beautifully ugly scar Dabi gave him, making him even more hideous than he already was. The air around them is getting too warm to be comfortable, despite there being barely any fire, and Dabi imagines it must be coming from the blood boiling in his father’s veins. He hopes it ends up cooking the bastard’s brain.

However, before he can yell whatever it is he’s about to yell or maybe even grab him and try to shake some sense into him like he usually would, Endeavor’s attention is abruptly caught by a pair of students walking by. They’re keeping a ridiculously wide berth between them and they’re both shooting them slightly alarmed looks. Endeavor quickly glances around, doubtlessly noticing all the attention they’re gathering. As if someone pulled the switch in his brain, the man deflates, heated anger receding to his usual frown.

Of course it does, Dabi thinks bitterly. If there’s anything more important to his father than being a dick to his children, it’s his beloved reputation.

“You are making a scene,” Endeavor grunts eventually, looking almost sullen. Dabi snorts, because that’s bullshit – he is not the one causing a scene. But, of course, Endeavor would never admit to making a mistake. “We can talk at home.”

“By talk, you mean beating me up again?” Dabi inquires casually, starting to walk away again and this time, instead of stopping him, Endeavor merely follows. “Because if that’s the case, then no, thanks.”

Endeavor has the audacity to bristle. “I am not—” he cuts himself off, perhaps realizing he really doesn’t have any right to sound so offended. Probably not, though. That would require some level of self-reflection. “We are simply going to have a conversation about your school performance. I got a call that you are failing a subject and that is unacceptable—”

Fucking bitch, that teacher. She was oh so supportive, but somehow, she forgot to mention she called his parents about it. Would have been nice to know beforehand. He would have asked the school nurse for some bandages – his own stash has been quickly running out, what with his illegal crime fighting and all.  

“What do you care?” he interrupts harshly, realizing with annoyance that he’s been somehow stirred to where one of Endeavor’s favourite cars is parked and not to the train station like he intended. He stops and turns to his father with his arms crossed over his chest and a chin raised in challenge. “Shouldn’t you be happy? You were right, I’m not good enough, I will never amount to anything, blah blah blah. Isn’t that what you’re always yapping about?”

He doesn’t mean to say this – or at least he doesn’t mean to sound so bitter about it. It has been a long time since his father’s opinion mattered to him in any way. It still doesn’t, it doesn’t, it’s just hard to ignore all those years of hearing how much of a disappointment he was, how much of a failure. The disappointment part, he has embraced. Learned to gain this sweet, sweet pleasure from making decisions his father would never approve of, from looking the way he knows the man will hate and, most of all, from putting that beautifully frustrated expression on his face that would otherwise remain indifferent.

(So maybe, now that he thinks about it, it’s all just another fucked-up attempt to get his father’s attention. So what. Dabi never claimed not to be a little fucked-up.)

The failure part though… That’s a little more complicated.

“Of course I care, you foolish child,” Endeavor growls, his eyebrows pinched. There’s this weird face again, the one not quite angry but not quite anything else. Constipated is the closest Dabi can describe. “I would not have chosen Shiketsu for you, but what is done is done. It is a respectable enough school and you are going to finish it, despite your sudden silly rebellious phase.”

Silly rebellious phase—How dare this man? Dabi feels his fingers twitch, grinding his teeth to stop himself from snarling where the hell Endeavor can shove his apparent care. He knows he begrudgingly decided not to, because of the mess it would cause, but he wonders for a moment if maybe, just maybe, he could somehow get away with murdering his father anyway. Fuck this whole ‘trying to change’ bullshit. The only thing he wants to change about his father right now is his alive status.

Before he can give in to his homicidal urges, Endeavor lets out a disappointed sigh after being met with silence and proceeds to get into the car. It’s a red sports car the brand of which Dabi couldn’t be bothered to remember, which means it’s a lot smaller than regular cars. Which in turns means Dabi is gifted with the sight of his giant of a father attempting to smoothly slid into the driver’s seat and failing.

“Do not just stare like that,” the man snaps, noticing Dabi’s amused expression. “Get in.”

Some part of him urges him to argue more, but he’s kind of tired and also not very eager to take public transportation at this hour, so in the end he does get in, although not without making sure he looks properly pissed about it.

***

The car ride is silent, Endeavor’s grip on the steering wheel tight enough for his knuckles to turn white. Being alone with his father is generally far from his favourite pastimes, but as long as the man is driving he’s too busy to shoot fire at him, so it’s not the worst. Dabi passes time playing games on his phone. With the full sound on, hoping the silly music from the game will work to annoy his father. Judging by the way the man’s eye twitches from time to time, it’s working.

Finally, they arrive home. Endeavor parks the car in the garage, next to the three other cars he barely uses. Dabi lets out a small sigh of relief, but then his father grabs his wrist just as he’s about to open the door and leave.

“Wait a moment,” Endeavor orders, deceptively calmly.

Dabi rips his hand away and sends the man a vicious glare.

“Don’t touch me,” he hisses, glancing down instinctively to check for burns he knows aren’t there.

Uncomfortable and maybe a little guilty – wow, congratulations, Dabi finds himself snarking mentally – Endeavor lets out a grunt, shifting in his place as he furrows his eyebrows, unsure how to proceed.

“Well? I don’t have all day.”

Sure, he could just ignore the man and leave anyway. It’s not like it would be hard. But it would probably end up biting him in the ass later. He knows there are limits to how much he can disregard his father. Whether he likes it or not, as much as basically everyone is concerned, he’s nothing more than a mouthy teenager, a child disrespecting his parent. Endeavor might tolerate his quips and taunts to an extent, especially now that he’s pretending to have this change of heart, but Dabi has not forgotten the last time he went overboard with his misbehaviour and almost made Shouto be the one to pay for it. He has to keep in mind that, right now, he’s not the only one Endeavor would be able to hurt as a repercussion.   

“These school problems,” his father starts, his voice gruff but also perplexed. “You did not have them before.”

It’s not a question, but Dabi knows he’s supposed to provide an explanation. He can admit, if only very reluctantly, that the man has a right to be confused about this one. From what he’s learned about this world, Touya used to be a little genius, just like Keigo, nearly top of the class. There is no logical justification of him going from that to zero so abruptly. Other than the truth, but he would rather dye his hair blond than ever tell the old man about that. 

“How do you know?” he challenges instead of answering, deciding that deflection is his best bet. “It’s not like you ever cared about my grades.”

Probably. He isn’t actually sure if it’s true or not. It doesn’t seem like his father to take interest in his little failure’s math grades unless he’s literally forced to, but who the fuck knows. There’s every possibility he could be wrong. Stranger things have happened in this weird universe.

Luckily, Endeavor is quick to assure him that he’s not wrong at all.

“Surely I would have been informed before, if your performance was lacking,” he points out, continuing to frown. Then, he lets out a frustrated huff and starts shifting in his seat ungracefully so that he can face Dabi properly. “From what your teacher said, it sounds like your grades only worsened recently.”

“What do you want from me?” he snaps, throwing his hands up in irritation and hoping his outburst might be enough to distract his father from the fact that he hasn’t actually answered the question. “Yes, I failed some tests, because math is the worst. So what? Why do you care? It’s my problem.”

“It is not your problem. I am your father and your poor performance reflects upon me. What will people say when they hear their Number Two Hero’s son couldn’t even manage to finish high school? It is unacceptable.”

Of course this isn’t really about him. Dabi should have realized. All his father cares about is what people will say. Of course he doesn’t give a shit whether Dabi gets kicked out of school or not. Why would he? It’s not like he cares about Dabi as a person. The man simply knows him failing school would look bad for him, so he feels the need to prevent it. Nothing more, nothing less.

Fucking asshole. Now Dabi kind of wants to fail on purpose.

Unaware of his son’s rising bitterness, Endeavor goes on, “I allowed you to attend this school, I paid for it and kept them from expelling you even after all the stunts you’ve pulled. I will not have you waste it on a whim. I do not care how you dress or how you act. If you choose to look like a clown, so be it. You are only embarrassing yourself. But you will not throw away your entire future just because you want to spite me. You will pass these future tests, no matter what. Is that clear?”

The first impulse Dabi has is, naturally, to spit in the asshole’s face and tell him to go to hell. He can already see it too – the way Endeavor’s face would turn red, how he would scoff in disgust, send him that look that makes him feel like nothing more than trash. Maybe he would finally get violent or maybe he would decide Dabi isn’t worth even that, and he would leave, proven right about his useless son. Dabi would relish in this distaste, enjoy, at least for a moment, how very livid his father gets after being denied. He would get the satisfaction of being contrary. And, more importantly, he would have an excuse to give up on school without even trying.

But something stops him, right before he’s about to laugh in his father’s face. Because it’s childish, isn’t it? He has never cared about being childish before – enjoyed it even – and yet, this time, it feels different, for some reason. It feels petty – and again, Dabi loves being petty, don’t get him wrong – but it’s this kind of pettiness that ends up hurting him more than the person it’s aimed at. If he thinks about it, Endeavor’s life won’t really be affected if Dabi fails high school. It’s an unwelcome truth, as truths often are, but it rings in his mind loud and clear. If he decides to go along with his plans to give up on school, Dabi will only be hurting himself.

Which wouldn’t be anything new, mind you. Dabi has quite a lot of experience with self-destruction. What’s one more wasted opportunity? He’s wasted plenty of them in his life and hardly ever felt any sort of regret for it. No, the real reason for his sudden hesitation is something else. He’s always been aware of that fact, more or less, but it’s only now that it hits him with full force. No matter how much he claims to hate the man – and he does, more than anything – Endeavor remains the main reason for most of his decisions. The memory of the desperate choices he made when he was a child and wanted nothing more but for his father to love him always fills him with contempt for his younger self whenever he bothers to revisit it. He has thought he left this part of his life behind after he stopped chasing his father’s approval.

But how is chasing his scorn any different?

“Sure,” he says, tone light even as his hands shake a little. The lack of arguing catches Endeavor off guard, which is slightly satisfying. “I will try. But contrary to what you may think, I’m not failing these tests to annoy you. You’re really not that important. Math just sucks.”

And, unfortunately for his newfound revelation, it’s true. He might have been considering giving up on school to piss Endeavor off, sure, but that was all merely theoretical. The poor results on his tests have nothing to do with the man and everything to do with Dabi’s deep hatred of numbers.

Endeavor doesn’t look like he believes him, which, arrogant much? But nevertheless, he clears his throat and, with the most reluctant expression, asks, “Do you need a tutor?”

The answer is yes, desperately. Dabi doesn’t think he’s stupid or anything, it’s just that his education never went anywhere further than basic stuff like adding or multiplying. And that was almost ten years ago. To hope to be able to catch up to a fancy high school’s level he would need a fucking miracle. Some poor underpaid university student is unlikely to make much of a difference, but it’s still better than nothing.

However, the next test is supposed to be in two weeks. He doubts even the smartest of tutors could help him in such a short time. Is it even worth it? Maybe he should just get over his pride and accept Keigo’s offer to teach him? But then he would inevitably get distracted and not actually learn anything…

“Maybe,” he replies eventually, after the silence begins to make his father twitchy.

“Well then, decide by tomorrow and let me know,” Endeavor orders and, just like that, their talk is over.

The man exits the car – or tries, once again struggling because of how unreasonably big he is – and Dabi feels his muscles relaxing even though up until now he wasn’t even aware they were tense. His own movements are slower since his mind is still sort of dizzy from thinking so much, so by the time he’s closing the car door after himself, Endeavor is already on his way to enter the house.

“And Touya,” his father says suddenly, pausing at the doorstep, with only his head slightly turned back, his voice cold and expression blank. “I am counting on you not to mess it up.”      

***

That night, after staring at the math textbook for half an hour and considering burning it to ashes for another two, Dabi chooses to take a nice, relaxing stroll through the city, in hope of the crisp evening air helping him clear his mind. Consciously or not, he follows the insistent calling of his soul and ends up in the same dirty district of the city he always gravitates towards. The only difference being that tonight, he’s not there to look for a fight.

At least, that’s what he tells himself. And if he has to force himself to avert his eyes and keep walking, and not intervene once he notices some poor guy being picked on by a group of thugs, well, it’s just a stupid habit. Nothing to do with morals.

And if, a moment later, he sighs in irritation, turns back and aims a very satisfying punch at each of the assholes’ ugly faces until they promise to leave the guy alone, no he doesn’t.

He’s already back to his peaceful walk before the guy can gather enough wits to start thanking him.

Cracking his fingers and admiring the slightly reddened knuckles, Dabi smirks to himself. He’s still evil, right, if violence continues to fill him with so much joy? If it’s the only thing that can make him feel like himself and not like an impostor in his own life – even if that’s exactly what he is?

Joy aside, though, he really shouldn’t be indulging in his vigilante activities tonight, not when he doesn’t even have his mask with him, the only thing covering his face being a large hood, and especially not with his fingers still itching to kill. He wouldn’t want to accidentally earn himself a murder charge.

He’s not even mad at Keigo, or his father or at the teacher or even at math itself – alright, that’s a lie, he’s always mad at Endeavor and, more recently, at math too, simply for their existence. But that’s beside the point. Mostly, he’s just pissed at himself. For caring about their words, for not being able to dismiss things without a second thought like he used to, for actually considering putting an effort into something so stupid. And, most of all, for that small part of him that has always wanted to be a hero – the part that he’s thought he had buried along with his name all those years ago – and that is now whispering traitorous words to him, like that he should listen to Keigo and try harder, and maybe even end up getting that damned licence if only to shove it down his father’s throat, to prove that he could be a better hero, that…

Yeah, no. He’s so not doing this right now.

What would the League think of him if they could see him now, seriously contemplating becoming a part of the system they have fought so hard to destroy? He, perhaps better than anyone else, knows how corrupt and rotten the hero society truly is, how it hurts the disadvantaged, how it paints desperate people as villains and only values powerful, useful quirks. That no matter how many ‘good heroes’ there are, nothing will ever change, because the problem isn’t individual people, it’s the whole system behind them.

And yet, more good heroes mean more people to hold the bad ones accountable, right?

He groans to himself, loud enough for some passers-by to glance at him strangely, and resists the urge to slap his own face. Maybe that would get these annoying thoughts out of his head. That’s exactly why he likes violence so much – because it’s easy. Because you don’t have to think about it. It’s just you, someone’s face and your fist redecorating it into something a little less recognizable.

While he’s busy battling his confusing thoughts, his feet eventually carry him to a grocery store nearby. It was not his plan to stop by, but now that he’s glancing up at the rusty yellow sign above the entrance, he’s tempted. What’s a better way to make yourself less miserable than some quality shopping? Especially with the money you didn’t have to work or beg for! With a pleased grin, Dabi grabs a wobbly cart and marches inside.

It’s late, so there are barely any other customers, which is a blessing because if Dabi had to deal with annoying people right now, this shop would not survive until tomorrow. And it’s a nice one, so that would be a real shame. It’s a surprisingly large store to be open at this hour, with much more to offer than usual snacks and cheap vodka. Strolling along the aisles lazily, he admires some state-of-the-art microwaves that the League could have never been able to afford and mourns the fact he didn’t think to steal one of Endeavor’s cards earlier. Back in the hideout, their main source of food were microwave frozen goods, so it would have been nice to actually be able to microwave them, instead of using his quirk to somehow heat them up without turning them to coal.

Following that trail of thought, he grabs two phones that aren’t too expensive and puts them in the cart. Not having any burners on him has been making him uneasy but there was never a right opportunity to buy them. Then, having decided he’s craving yoghurt, he heads for the diary section.

There’s a ridiculous number of flavours to choose from. He takes a peach one, because it has the best looking picture, and puts it in his cart next to the cheap phones. For a long moment, he stares at them and then goes back to take the most expensive ones instead. Why should he be limiting himself? If his father wants to earn his forgiveness so badly, then surely a few thousand yen isn’t that much of a cost.

Next, he directs his steps to the make-up aisle. He has no idea how much time he spends there, but just as he’s leaving, heading for the cash registers, his cart now also containing some nail polishes, a blue eyeliner and a red lipstick, he bumps into someone else’s cart and the impact of the sudden crash almost makes him fall to the floor.

“Fuck, look where you’re going!” he barks at the idiot who smashed into him, not even bothering to look up, too busy making sure none of his purchases got damaged. He resist an urge to laugh at his luck. Half-empty store and he still manages to collide with someone. His life is a fucking joke.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” the offender says sheepishly. Any irritation flees Dabi in an instant, the unmistakable familiarity of the voice freezing him in his place. “I didn’t see you there.”

Slowly, he raises his head, absolutely certain his ears are playing a joke on him. But no, there, right in front of him, clad in the plainest ugly men jeans and a stained white wife-beater, is Twice. Or rather, judging by the lack of his trademark Deadpool mask, still just Jin Bubaigawara.

Momentarily struck speechless, not only by the sole fact it’s Twice standing in front of him but also because of how young his friend looks, Dabi can do nothing but stare. The man in front of him can’t be much older than twenty. Maybe a bit ruffled by life, but still hopeful, still sane. Dabi doesn’t think he’s ever seen Twice look so.. normal. Sure, he was always cheerful and smiling a lot, but there was always this unnamed sadness about him. Those pieces of darkness that couldn’t be entirely covered up by jokes and silliness.

“Eh, are you okay?” Jin’s voice snaps him out of his depressing thoughts. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“Yes, yes, I’m fine,” he mumbles, his mind rushing to come up with any reasonable excuse to continue the conversation. He assumes it’s not exactly usual for teenagers to try making friends with strange adult men they accidentally met in a store at one in the morning, but he will be damned if he just lets Jin slip away from him without even trying. “Sorry for snapping at you. I’m kind of having a shitty day.”

“No problem, kid.” Jin sends him a friendly smile, but it’s the kind of smile you would aim at any random person not to come off as rude. For some inexplainable reason, that, along with the absolute lack of recognition in the man’s eyes, stabs through Dabi’s heart with a thousand little needles. He never would have expected something so trivial could hurt so much. “Hope your day gets better, yeah?”

And then he’s about to leave, because that’s a perfectly normal thing to do after an awkward interaction with a stranger, but Dabi can’t let him, not yet, not when he only got him back.

“Wait!” he says before he can chicken out, before the rational part of his brain can convince him it’s a ridiculous idea. “This might be a stupid question but could you buy me cigarettes? I forgot my ID.”

It’s probably the dumbest way to go about it, but Dabi has never been the sharpest crayon in the box and he doesn’t have any better ideas. And anyway, what’s the worst thing Twice can do? Say no?

The look the man sends him says pretty clearly he doesn’t believe him. Which is fair. He wouldn’t believe himself either. “Nice try. I don’t think I should be doing that. Smoking is bad for your health, kid. Don’t do it to yourself.”

“Oh, come on,” Dabi insists, and if there’s a sliver of desperation in his voice, can you really blame about it? “If you won’t do it, someone else will. I will pay you back, I’ve got money.” He falters then, but he’s already gone so far, he might as well commit wholly. “And if you’re not busy… I could also pay for two beers?”

Oh god, that’s just pathetic. And creepy. What the hell is he doing? Who in their right mind would agree to have a beer with some random teenager? Dabi wishes he could punch himself for being so stupid.

“Well…” Twice hesitates, scratching his head. “I guess I could drink a beer.”

Nevermind then.

“Really?” Dabi doesn’t even bother hiding his wide grin – which probably makes him look borderline insane but whatever. He might actually be getting one of his friends back. He’s allowed to be a little bit unhinged about it. “Cool. Let’s go then.”

They continue their shopping together – which is kind of awkward at first, at least until Dabi cracks a joke about something that absolutely shouldn’t be funny and Jin ends up laughing until his stomach hurts. In no time, they’re talking like old friends. When they’re ready to finish, they grab two beers expensive enough for Jin to do a double take and Dabi, being a gentleman, quickly shows off his wallet’s contents to shut down any protests. This seems to cause the man to be even more suspicious of him – especially coupled with that pointedly raised eyebrow at the wild array of items in Dabi’s cart – but since he’s not running away yet, Dabi takes it as a compliment and only responds with what he hopes passes as a mysterious smile. Eager for them to leave, he ends up almost dragging Jin towards the counter where, thankfully, there’s only one other person in line. Still one person too many for one in the morning, but Dabi will take what he can get.

And, apparently, he can’t fucking get anything nice ever, because suddenly there’s a loud bang of doors being violently thrown open, people are screaming and a deranged looking guy is pointing a gun at the terrified cashier.

Just your regular Thursday.

Dabi feels himself being grabbed by someone’s surprisingly muscular arms and hastily pulled  behind the closest shelf. He only has a moment to mourn the contents of their carts that are tragically left behind. The cashier gasps, her body going utterly still. The other customer, the guy who was standing in front of them, seems to have frozen in his spot, trembling and wide-eyed as he gapes at the attacker in shock.

“Give me all the money you got, sweet cheeks, and no one gets hurt,” the criminal barks in, like, the most creepy guy voice possible, and it has to be a nightmare, right? There’s no way this is really happening. One time! One time Dabi isn’t looking for a fight and the fucking store he’s in has to get robbed. What the fuck? He only wanted to eat his yoghurt in peace. Is that so much to ask?

“Why,” he moans in despair, falling back against Jin’s chest dramatically.

He’s not really sure how they ended up sprawled on the floor with their legs tangled and Jin’ hands around Dabi’s middle, but it’s kind of nice. The shelf keeps them hidden and relatively safe – the robber probably doesn’t give a shit about them anyway, as long as they don’t cause any problems – so all they have to do is stay there and they should be fine. Quick thinking on Jin’s part, dragging them away like that. Dabi should probably thank him for being his prince in shining armour. Even if it was completely unnecessary.

Before he gets to do that though, Jin puts a hand over his mouth and whispers in his ear frantically, “Shut up, man. I’m too young to die.”

Dabi snorts into the man’s palm. Really, Jin’s so dramatic. It’s just an idiot with a gun. His quirk, if he has any, must be pretty useless if he’s resorting to physical weapons. Dabi is about 98% sure he wouldn’t have the balls to actually shoot. Taking him down shouldn’t be an issue.

In the background, the girl manning the register attempts to reason with the attacker.

“Please, calm down!” she pleads, trying to sound composed even though her voice shakes terribly. “You—you don’t have to do this. Please, put away the gun and we can—”

“Shut the fuck up!” the guy cuts her off sharply, somehow managing to sound even more pissed off. Well, she tried. You’ve got to admire her bravery. Even if it’s making her do utterly foolish things, like angering a man that’s holding a gun to her face. “You give me the money now or I’m gonna blow your face off, you hear me?! Hurry up!” His screams are accompanied by the characteristic sound of a gun being loaded.

Jin’s grip on Dabi’s waist tightens and it’s all very romantic but unfortunately, Dabi has both a boyfriend and a criminal to stop, so he gently tugs at the other’s hands, hoping the man will get the message and let him go.

“Okay, okay!” the girl cries out, on a verge of tears now, and there follows a hurried shuffling, probably her attempting to open the register with her shaking hands.

“Come on, I need to go,” Dabi whispers impatiently when Jin doesn’t comply with his silent request. The situation is quickly getting out of hand. He needs to stop it before someone actually gets hurt and it turns into a whole mess.

“Just stay here, kid,” Jin whispers back, urgently, his muscles tense, body ready to bolt at any moment. “He will get what he wants and it will be over.”

The robber is tapping his foot impatiently while the cashier’s movements seem to be getting more and more erratic. Dabi really wishes he could see what’s going on there. His mind is running with questions. Was there anyone else in the store? Are they okay? Did anyone call the police yet? Technically, that would be a good thing, but then he would be a witness and they would call his parents and it would be hell to explain what exactly he was doing in some shady store in the middle of the night, so. He would really prefer no cops, thank you very much.

“Faster!”

“Dude, she’s doing what she can!”

And that must be the other guy. Another brave dumbass who’s going to get himself shot if Dabi doesn’t react soon.

“What the fuck did you say to me?!” the robber roars, loud enough for Dabi to flinch. His poor ears. Who’s that guy, Present Mic’s cousin?

A scream and then… Crash! Something must have fallen over. The victim bumping into one of the carts while trying to escape, judging by the sound. Or falling over after being punched. Hard to say for sure. Dabi doesn’t feel much sympathy either way. Only a complete idiot decides to mouth off to an armed lunatic threatening to kill them.

For a long moment, the store is eerily quiet, save for the sounds of heavy breathing.  

“Stay on the floor and keep your mouth shut,” the robber hisses eventually, with his gun now most likely pointed at the other customer. “I won’t repeat myself.”

It’s all very tragic, of course. The robbery and stuff. But the worst thing is yet to happen. It’s only after another few seconds that Dabi realizes the guy in front of them didn’t have a cart with him.

The milky orange liquid spills from under the shelf slowly, as if mocking him. Dabi stares at it blankly, feeling the fiery anger igniting under his skin.

“My yoghurt.”

Alright, forget about deescalating. Dabi’s going to kill this guy. There are things a man just can’t forgive.  

“What…?” Jin splutters, a little too loudly and now it’s Dabi’s turn to put his hand over the man’s mouth.

With Dabi’s body twisted around and Jin’s arms still wrapped around him, they’re kind of in an awkward hug now, their eyes locked in a silent battle. Like this, he can almost feel the other man’s heart racing. He’s pretty certain this is not how first meetings should go. Dabi is easy, sure, but he expected better from Jin.

“Look, I have a plan,” he whispers, keeping the eye contact to convey how serious he is. He’s painfully aware Jin has no reason to believe Dabi won’t be killed the moment he emerges from their hiding place. And Jin is not the kind of person who would let some random kid get himself killed.

“Famous last words,” Jin replies dryly.

Dabi chuckles despite himself. “Look, I can get him down. I’ve done it before. Just trust me.” He pauses, his eyes considering their surroundings. “I might need your help though.”

Jin’s eyebrows shoot up in alarm and he’s already shaking his head before Dabi can even finish. All Dabi does in response is grin wider.

“Tell me about your quirk.”  

***

“Hey, dickhead!” Dabi yells cheerfully as he saunters out of their hiding place, putting himself between the customer sprawled on the ground and the increasingly annoyed robber.

The criminal startles, turning his head sharply to glare at Dabi, and growls in frustration. Dabi feels for him – were he in the robber’s place, he would have lost patience after the first idiot who dared to interrupt him. But then again, Dabi’s strategy was always burn first, ask questions later, while this guy hasn’t even shot anyone yet. No wonder nobody is really that scared of him. Being a successful villain takes talent.

The gun that has previously been pointed at the cashier is now aiming straight at Dabi’s face. It’s incredibly rude. But instead of getting offended (or scared) by the threat, he only waves lazily in response.

“The fuck you want, brat?! Stay down or I will kill you!” the man spits and Dabi imagines his face must be turning red at this point. Unfortunately, the robber is wearing some kind of black tights on his face or something, so it’s hard to tell for sure.

Dabi feels the wide-eyed stares of both the cashier and the guy on the floor fixed on him. They must be wondering if he’s crazy, which, fair. Unbothered, he continues smiling.

“Sure you will.” Snorting, Dabi takes a confident step forward, paying the glinting weapon no mind. “A murder charge is definitely worth the few thousand yen you’re going to get from this.”

The robber’s hand trembles, along with the rest of his body. The fabric covering his face seems to be sticking to his sweaty forehead. It’s pretty clear the guy is in over his head. He definitely did not think this through. Probably thought everyone would be too scared of his little gun to be too much of a nuisance. To be fair, it’s not an unreasonable assumption. It’s really only this guy’s bad luck that his victims ended up being mouthy little shits too brave for their own good.

“I’m not joking! Take another step and I will shoot you!” The man sends a sharp glare towards the cashier, who paused in her movements to watch the confrontation. “And you, hurry the fuck up! If I don’t get the money in the next two minutes, I will kill all of you!”

This is an uncomfortable situation indeed. If he was free to use his quirk, this whole farce would be long over, but unfortunately, Dabi’s trying to be a law abiding citizen this time around and while he’s pretty sure there are no cameras in the tiny store, he’s not wearing his mask and he would be leaving too many witnesses. It wouldn’t be hard to link his blue fire quirk with the new vigilante and being exposed is the last thing he needs. So, he has to solve it in some other way and quick. He knows better than anyone how unstable people react to stressful situations.

“Just put the fucking gun down,” Dabi says, rolling his eyes in exasperation. Somewhere in the background, he can hear Jin lamenting over his ‘lack of self-preservation instincts’. “If you leave now, we’re not going to call the cops. We will forget this ever happened.” Here, Dabi glances pointedly at the trembling girl. “Right?”

She blinks and then nods frantically, her eyes darting from Dabi to the robber. “Y—yes. Of course. No one saw anything.”

It would be way too easy if it worked. Dabi has to admit that he probably wouldn’t have fallen for such a blatant lie either. But, well, no one can say he didn’t try.

“I told you to shut up!” the man roars, and he sounds much more furious than just a moment ago, his whole body shaking either in rage or anxiety, or both.

In a blink, the gun in once again pointing at the girl, who squawks and freezes in place with a handful of bills in her grip.

“Hurry up, you bitch!”

The man’s grip on the gun is tight enough for his knuckles to go white, his hand shaking even more violently. It’s hard to see his eyes through the dark fabric, but Dabi can imagine the glint of desperation in them anyway, and then the man’s finger gets a little too close to the trigger and Dabi quickly realizes he absolutely sucks at negotiation. Throwing caution to the wind, he dashes forward, a bark of “Get the fuck away from her”  leaving his mouth almost thoughtlessly. There are some yelps and cursing from Jin and the other unlucky customer, but he ignores them, because, fuck, no one is dying for a useless fuckup like this guy.

Alarmed, the robber once again turns to Dabi and the time seems to slow down even if in reality it only takes a few seconds – the attackers eyes widen in shock and his arm is moving and then there’s a loud bang, right before Dabi’s outstretched hand can reach the gun.

The girl screams, the guy on the floor screams even louder and even the shooter himself lets out a distressed sound. The bullet goes right through Dabi’s forehead exactly at the same moment a soup can hits the robber’s head, hard enough to make him collapse on the ground, unconscious.

“Hm,” Dabi hums to himself, observing with fascination as his clone in front of him turns into goo. The soup can is cold and heavy in his grip. “I didn’t think he would actually shoot.”

Everyone’s staring at him with their jaws hanging open, their faces pale and, in some cases, glistening with tears. No one says anything for a long moment and then Twice is running out from behind the shelf, half-panicked half-awed.

“I can’t believe it worked,” he mumbles, seemingly to himself but it’s loud enough for them all to hear. “You’re so fucking lucky, kid. This was so stupid.”

“Meh.” Dabi shrugs, unbothered, and walks over to his fallen cart. The yogurt is gone, but other stuff seems salvageable. Including the beer. He could really use a beer after that. “I’ve done worse.”

“I pity your parents,” Jin sighs and it’s probably supposed to be a joke, but he sounds way too sincere when he says that.

“Oh, you shouldn’t,” Dabi chuckles, lifting the cart up and filling it back with his stuff. Including the soup can. “It’s all their fault I’m like this.”

Paying no mind to the passed out criminal sprawled on the floor, Dabi pushes his cart to the counter, where the cashier girl is slowly regaining her senses. She blinks when he starts putting his things out for her to scan.

“What are you doing?” she asks faintly.

Dabi raises an eyebrow. “Shopping.”

Her eyes widen even more as she gapes at him and stutters out, “What…? But what about him?” Still trembling a little, she points to the criminal. “Shouldn’t we call the police?”

They probably should. Who knows what a guy like this will do when he wakes up. Or tomorrow, when he finds himself another gun. Still…

“First, shopping. You can call them once I’m gone.”

…Dabi hates the police. And he would rather lick that yoghurt off the floor than risk his secret identity being revealed in such an anticlimactic way. Not to mention the tantrum his father would throw if he found out.

The cahier continues to eye him uncertainly, but in the end doesn’t argue and starts counting him up. She’s obviously still very shaken – he notices she can’t stop herself from throwing glances at the unconscious man every few seconds as if she was afraid he was going to wake up any minute and murder them all.   

“What should I tell them?” When all Dabi does is look at her with confusion, she sighs and elaborates, “The police. If you’re gone, how should I explain what happened?”

Dabi shrugs. “Easy. Tell them the truth. You don’t have cameras here, right?” He waits for her to shake her head and when she does, he continues. “Then just tell them some random person took him out and left. If they ask, say you don’t remember what he looked like. They should leave you alone quickly.”

She hums in what Dabi hopes is agreement. At least he never used his fire. It’s the most characteristic thing they could identify him by. Lots of people have black hair and blue eyes. Sure, most of them don’t have piercings, aren’t a child and wouldn’t throw themselves at an armed robber in a blind act of heroism, but he strongly believes it’s not enough to specifically link him to Touya Todoroki. He would still prefer her to keep her mouth shut though.

His eyes catch her adding the beers to his receipt with no comments and he raises an eyebrow.

“Won’t you ask me for my ID?” he asks teasingly, hoping to brighten the mood.

She snorts, a small smile making her pale face seem a bit more alive. “You saved my life, kid. I think you deserve it. And,” she says with a wink, “as you said, we don’t have any cameras here.”

Smirking at her, Dabi pays for his stuff – leaving her a considerable tip, just to be sure – and packs it quickly into a paper bag (because the planet is dying, okay?). Then he turns around to shoot a sharp smile at an awkwardly hovering Jin.

“You still up for that beer?”

***

And that’s how he ends up sitting on a dirty staircase in one of the nearby alleys, Jin standing next to him, two cans of beer and two bags of groceries laying at their feet. They’re both smoking, Jin constantly glancing at him with worry, as if feeling guilty for corrupting him or something. Dabi wishes he could tell the man to quit it, that he’s done things way worse than ‘underage’ drinking in his life, but he doesn’t want to scare him away so quickly, so he keeps his mouth shut.

“So,” Jin says, leaning against the brick wall, a burning cigarette between his fingers, “could you explain why a kid like you would decide to take on a villain instead of waiting for help?”

Like a sane person would do, is the unsaid end to the question. 

“Can you stop calling me a kid?” Dabi sighs, then takes a generous sip of the beer as though to prove his point. “And it depends. Can you keep a secret?”

Jin’s eyebrows rise. “A secret? Sure, I guess. Not like I have anyone I could tell it to anyway…”

Man, that’s just sad. Dabi isn’t generally a very touchy feely person – unless it’s for Hawks – but suddenly he finds himself really wanting to give Jin a hug.

He doesn’t, because that would be creepy, but you get the point.

“Alright then, let me ask you a question. Have you ever heard about that new vigilante, calls himself Dabi, has been seen to use blue fire…?”

“Oh, sure, I think most of us here have heard of him.” Jin nods, taking a drag of his cigarette and exhaling the smoke slowly. “What about him?”

Dabi smirks, tossing the butt of his own finished cig on the ground where he steps on it for good measure, and then raises his hand, activating his quirk to light up his fingers. Blue fire illuminates the dark alley, allowing Dabi to see the awed expression on the older man’s face in all of its glory.

“No way! You’re Dabi?!” Jin exclaims, almost vibrating with excitement. He’s so distracted by the discovery that he doesn’t even notice his own half-finished cigarette slipping through his fingers and pathetically falling to the ground.

RIP, Dabi thinks, staring mournfully at the wasted nicotine. It left before it’s time.  

“Yup,” he replies a moment later, after he realizes the silence between them has started to become a little awkward. If he’s being honest, Dabi thought that question was supposed to be rhetorical. “That’s me.”

“Oh man, that’s so awesome! You’re the talk of the town!” The stars in Jin’s eyes shine even brighter than Dabi’s fire. The man is grinning like a child who’s been told Christmas came early. Any reservations he might have had about spending time with a random kid are gone, instead leaving Jin gaping at him like he’s actually some sort of a celebrity. It’s flattering, in a weird kind of way, and Dabi gladly returns the smile. Naturally, the man ruins everything when he opens his mouth again, “But aren’t you a little too young to be a hero?”

“Listen here, first of all, I’m almost sixteen.” He’s not, his birthday is still a few months away, but what’s the harm in some little white lie between friends? “And second of all, I’m not a hero. I don’t have a license or anything. I just beat up people who get on my nerves. It just so happens that these people are criminals, okay?”

It may not be entirely true – he has enough self-awareness to admit at least that – but being regarded as a ‘real hero’, especially right now, isn’t something Dabi is comfortable with. Jin, bless his heart, seems to take it as him being modest, because his face twists into that determined look he only gets when his goal is to cheer someone up, whether the person in question wants it or not.

“License or no licence, it doesn’t matter,” Jin says, making a dismissive gesture. “You save people so you’re a hero. Just last week, this guy I buy wee—I mean, my friend, got attacked and he says that you saved him. He would have been dead if not for you. And today! Sure, you were a little reckless and maybe a little bit stupid too, but it worked! And you saved us all! Don’t know about you, but for me that sounds pretty heroic.”

“I guess.” Dabi shrugs uncomfortably. He so doesn’t want to talk about it right now. Or ever, if he’s being honest. So he decides it’s time to change the subject. “Anyway, enough about me, what about you? What brings you here so late?”

Instantly, Jin deflates, excitement turning into misery. The stars in his eyes dim, leaving only the natural greyish-blue colour in their wake, and his shoulders sag as though the man is trying to curl onto himself. Dabi refuses to feel guilty about it, but his stomach contorts uneasily anyway.

“Ah, you know how it is. I’m working a lot during the day, have to if I want to have a roof over my head, so I don’t have much time left for shopping. And I couldn’t really fall asleep tonight, so. Here I am.”

Here he is, indeed. Twice has never told them exactly what his life had been like before he had made a mistake of multiplying himself and almost getting murdered by his own copies, but from what he did say, they could easily fill in the gaps themselves. Orphaned at a young age, Twice had to take care of himself much earlier than he should have – that part was pretty common among the members, really – and while he never had a lot of friends, he managed to survive just fine. Until he had an accident that cost him his job, which then led to homelessness, with in turn led to crime and then to madness. To the Twice they knew.

Here and now, Jin Bubaigwara is just a lonely guy who got the short stick at the game of life, slaving away at some boring company to make ends meet. He’s not a criminal. He’s not crazy. He gets excited about heroes. He could still have a normal life – and never have to find out what it feels like to have someone’s blood on your hands.

“You remind me of someone, you know?” the words slip through Dabi’s mouth almost without permission. “He was a good friend. Always tried to make me feel better when I was down, even when I was a dick to him.” He lets out a humourless chuckle. He remembers being a real bastard at first. Why the others even bothered to try and get closer to him when he was such an asshole to them, he still doesn’t know. “He was kind, even though life has been cruel to him. One of the kindest people I’ve ever met. He cared so much. Even for someone like me.”

“He sounds wonderful,” Jin says quietly, after a moment of silence. “Can’t say I’ve ever met someone like that. I didn’t have a lot of friends in my life.”

“I don’t see why.” Dabi smiles at him softly, praying that he doesn’t come across as too creepy. “You seem like a really good person.”

“Not many people would agree with you, I’m afraid.” Jin’s answering smile is wistful, bitter, too bitter for someone so young.

Dabi scoffs. “Then they’re idiots. Don’t listen to people like that. You’re better than all of them combined.”

Jin chuckles, but it lacks humour. He seems resigned. “That’s very nice of you to say but… You don’t know me.”

It shouldn’t sting so much. It’s true, after all – Dabi doesn’t know this version of Twice. The version of Twice that doesn’t wear a mask, isn’t afraid of his own quirk, doesn’t contradict his own sentences every time he speaks. And this person, Jin Bubaigwara, certainly doesn’t know Dabi.

“Maybe I don’t,” he says defiantly, meeting Jin’s surprised stare head on. “But I could. If you wanted.”  

Jin’s eyes widen as he stutters, “What…? You… What do you mean?”

“You said it yourself, right? You don’t have a lot of friends. Me neither.” Dabi shrugs, feigning nonchalance, even when his heart is threatening to jump out of his chest. God, he’s so disgustingly sappy. Feelings really are a bitch. “And I think you would make a fucking great friend, so. What do you say?”

Jin opens his mouth and then closes it, looking for all purposes as if someone slapped him across the face. With love and affection. “I—I don’t—You really mean that?”

“Sure.” Dabi smiles even wider, taking out his phone and handing it over to the man. “Put your number in. Name it something funny. Whenever you need someone to talk to, you know who to text.”

Jin Bubaigwara from this world is not Twice as Dabi knew him. He will never have the memories about their past friendship and, even if they manage to create a new, different bond, he may never be to Dabi what Twice used to be. Dabi will probably never be able to look at this Jin and see the same guy who always helped him with wounds after a particularly vicious battle and who was the only person not disgusted by his staples. But maybe it’s for the best. Maybe Jin Bubaigwara deserves to have a better life than that. Maybe, just maybe, it’s alright if Dabi’s relationship with Jin is nothing like the one he had with Twice.

Maybe they can finally be just normal friends, with no blood, pain, and tragic backstories between them.

“Oh, right, I forgot to ask! Your name isn’t really Dabi, is it?” Jin asks, giving Dabi back his phone. There’s nothing but innocent curiosity on his face.

Dabi feels a bit guilty about how giddy he is for what’s about to happen.

“Ah, no, no. It’s actually Todoroki Touya.” Trying to keep his expression neutral and not burst out laughing, he extends a hand for a handshake. “Nice to meet you.”

Enthusiastically, Jin clasps their hands and shakes them. “I’m Bubaigwara Jin, but you can just call me Jin.” Then, his mind done processing the new information, the man freezes, his mouth agape. “Wait, wait, wait, wait… did you just say Todoroki?!”

Dabi’s grin is all teeth. “Sure did. But friends call me Touya.”

***

All in all, Jin takes the whole ‘oh, yeah, I’m Endeavor’s son and also Endeavor’s a real asshole’ reveal remarkably well. He solemnly swears not to tell anyone – not that Dabi thought he would – and to never buy Endeavor’s merchandise ever again – which, again, Dabi didn’t think was a concern he should have had. They finish their beers, talk a bit more about inconsequential stuff, promise to keep in touch and, eventually, part ways.

Dabi stares after Jin for much longer than is strictly necessary, unsure if he’s making the right choice by involving himself in the other man’s life. He can’t stop the little voice in the back of his head, whispering that it’s a mistake, that Jin’s life is already hard enough without Dabi dragging him into his bullshit. What if he somehow fucks it up even more?

At the same time, though, he’s unable to regret the meeting. It might have been buried under a lot of denial and repression, but the grief of losing his friends never really went away. He’s not going to lie and say he hasn’t missed them. Running into Twice as a complete accident must be some kind of a sign, Dabi thinks, smiling to himself like an idiot. Maybe, he entertains an idea, they were always destined to be friends, no matter the universe.

Or maybe he’s just being sappy. Either way, he’s not going to waste this chance. Jin is back in his life now and Dabi promises to himself that he’s going be the best friend the man could ever have. He will do whatever he can to make sure there’s more to his future than fear and pain.

Soon, Jin’s silhouette disappears from his line of vision and Dabi’s thoughts travel back to the present. Not wanting to draw any unwelcome attention, he tightens the grip on his shopping bag and forces his legs to move, continuing his walk. The short break allowed him to put aside what’s been bothering him before and now he’s left sort of… empty. Confused about his feelings, yes, but the need to clear his head is gone – there’s no longer any itching under his skin, no desire to cause pain, no urge to colour someone’s face red. Strolling around the town without any destination suddenly doesn’t seem all that appealing.

If he’s being honest, he just wants to go home.

Wishing, not for the first time, that he could just call Hawks and demand to be picked up like he used to, Dabi sighs and makes his way towards the train station. It’s late enough that there aren’t many people around, save for a few drunks or an occasional night-shift worker. Desolate streets, soaked in soft moonlight, have this eery feeling about them that he can’t quite explain, but that still leaves his arms tingling with goosebumps.

His hopes of a quiet, uneventful way back home are quickly crushed by a sudden sound of commotion somewhere to his left. He startles without meaning to, cursing under his breath and looking around in search of the suspicious noises. The source is easy enough to identify – what seems to be a glass factory, just on the other side of the street, although judging by the cracked windows, walls sprayed with crude paint and piles of trash lying around, it hasn’t been used for its intended purpose for a very long time.

This is one of the shadiest parts of that particular district, consisting mostly of old factories, warehouses, abandoned construction sites and rundown houses. It’s such a dangerous place exactly because most ‘proper’ citizens have no reason to be there – making it the perfect space for illicit activities, with very small risk of getting caught. Dabi himself used to live in one of those warehouses. So he knows, better than anyone, what the noises mean.

This isn’t his problem, he tells himself, even as he stops right in the middle of the sidewalk. He owes nothing to whatever poor idiot wandered where he shouldn’t, he continues blithely, putting the bag with his purchases on the ground and covering it with a dirty piece of clothing. He’s not out here today to save anyone, he insists while making his way to one of the building’s back entrances.

He isn’t a fucking hero, he repeats to himself as he kicks the door open and takes in the sight in front of him.

Twelve bulky men are ganging up on a much smaller figure, throwing fists and swinging around rusty pipes they clearly grabbed from the cluttered floor. The victim fights back with admirable skill, but it’s clear he’s getting more and more tired, straining under such a significant difference in numbers. Luckily, Dabi’s arrival distracts the attackers enough for the person they’re busy fighting to catch two of them in his white scarf and swiftly take them down by banging their heads together.

The person has long black hair, yellow goggles around his neck and, of course, the signature white scarf gripped in his hands. Two other guys come at him, but the man kicks one in the jaw and then jumps away, tying his capture weapon around the other’s throat and squeezing until the criminal’s eyes roll back and he falls limp to the ground. Altogether, there are now ten fallen bodies lying around him in various states of consciousness.

For real? Dabi whines to himself as he watches one of the criminals approach him confidently, his lips pulled into a disgusting grin. Dodging the first punch is laughably easy and the look of dumb bafflement on the guy’s nasty face is even better. Not wasting any time, he aims his own punch, hitting him hard enough for his nose to crack in a very satisfying way. It could have been anyone! And out of all people in this city, the person he so courteously came to aid turns out to be fucking Eraser?!

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” the unimportant guy number one sneers, but fails to be threatening at all because of all the blood that is gushing out of his nose.

Dabi barely spares him a glance. “Name’s Dabi,” he says and kicks the unimportant guy number one in the knees.

More people come at him then, having identified him as a threat and, really, what else can he do than shoot them a grin and start beating them up? They are all big and muscly, no doubt way stronger than him, but, unfortunately for them, this is exactly the kind of opponent Dabi is used to fighting. His quick movements and overall flexibility let him evade most of their attacks and when he comes at them with a punch or a kick, he knows where to hit to cause the most pain.

They have weapons though, the pipes and an occasional knife, which is not ideal. There are three thugs now focused on him, a bit more than he’s comfortable with without the support of his quirk. His eyes dart around in search of another discarded pipe that he could grab for himself in hopes of evening the odds.  

“This isn’t any of your business,” barks some other unimportant criminal, attempting to stab Dabi in a thigh.

“Why is everyone always saying that?” Dabi rolls his eyes as he easily avoids the attack, dancing out of the knife’s way with grace he didn’t know he possessed. Something metallic bangs against his foot. His grin widens. Perfect. “Yeah, I know,” he says, picking up the pipe and weighing it in his hand. “That’s part of the job.”

And then he bonks the idiot in his stupid head.

His triumph is short-lived though, because suddenly, someone grabs him from behind, digging their fat fingers into Dabi’s soft flesh in an attempt to immobilize him. It’s enough to momentarily leave him distracted. Unfortunately for his poor stomach, that moment is enough for the broken nose guy to land a hit to it with his own pipe.

“Fuck!” Dabi gasps, wheezing as the impact forces the air out of his lungs. Well, that’s definitely going to bruise. With his hands restrained, he can’t even try to make it hurt less by hugging himself or something and it’s really starting to piss him off. This was supposed to be a peaceful night for him, damn it.

“Look, he’s not so feisty now,” the person behind him snorts, holding his arms together with one hand and using the other to yank on Dabi’s hair. Involuntarily, he lets out a hiss as his head is forcefully pulled back. The other thugs laugh like it’s the most amusing thing in the world. “What is it, brat? Lost your way back from kindergarten? Want me to braid your pigtails?”

Fuck being a better person. Dabi is going to kill them. 

He can feel his face twist into a very ugly expression, the one that used to bring people to their knees back when his reputation preceded him. “Oh, you’re so going to regret it.”

How dare they? Toga is the only one allowed to braid his pigtails.

Aware that there’s still technically a hero in his vicinity – albeit more than a little busy at the moment – Dabi only allows his quirk to reign freely for a small second, but even that is more than enough. The hands on him vanish instantly, his captor letting out an agonized scream as he gapes at his blistered flesh. The rest of the criminals take hasty steps back to avoid getting burned, a true apprehension on their faces now that they realize he has a powerful quirk.

Done with playing, Dabi growls, picks his pipe back up and beats them all unconscious withing two minutes, barely restraining himself from doing a lot more.

Eraserhead, meanwhile, has also managed to subdue all of his opponents. The pile of bodies at his feet is quite impressive, really. Dabi isn’t surprised by this – he has seen the man fight before, he knows he’s a capable hero. Certainly not one to be taken down by some random mini gang or whatever it was supposed to be. Visibly exhausted, Eraser gathers his scarf, grimacing slightly when he notices some bloodstains, then takes a moment to stretch his muscles, right before turning around to face Dabi. 

“You again,” the hero tsks, levelling him with an unimpressed stare. His voice has almost no tone to it and yet, it perfectly conveys his annoyance. “Why am I not even surprised?”

Dabi purses his lips, swaying back and forth on his heels, the pipe still in his hand swinging along as though to some unheard music. “Shouldn’t I be saying that? I almost feel like you’re stalking me with how much I see you recently.”

“I work here,” Eraser points out, face blank, although, Dabi notices with some concern, he doesn’t deny the stalking accusation. “It’s you who shouldn’t be out at this hour. Especially not involving yourself in fights.”

Dabi sends him a challenging look, crossing his arms in defiance. He’s pretty sure they’ve had this conversation already. “I helped you, didn’t I?”

The hero’s eyes narrow, the lines around his mouth tightening. “I would have been fine. You recklessly endangered yourself, is what you did.”

“Says the guy who decided to take on an entire criminal organization by himself.”                                  

‘Recklessly endangered yourself’ his ass. God, Eraser is such a teacher. And a hypocrite too. Why does he even care if Dabi is ‘endangering himself’ or not? Especially after he apparently rushed in, alone, into a situation he underestimated and almost got himself beaten to a pulp because of it. Can’t he just appreciate the help and say thank you, like a normal person? And what’s with that disappointed expression? Dabi doesn’t even know this guy! Is his sole existence just one big disappointment?

Actually, that would explain so much.

“It wasn’t an organization.” The man rolls his eyes, but his voice sounds suspiciously defensive. Dabi eyes the fallen bodies around them, at least twenty of them if not more, and raises an eyebrow. “It was completely calculated. I would have no problem taking them all out.”

“I’m sure.”

Instead of rising to the bait, Eraser pinches his nose and takes a deep breath, presumably to calm himself down. It’s a common reaction to Dabi’s bullshit, so he allows the man his time. To distract himself with something, he starts walking around, admiring the sparse graffiti and, occasionally, kicking the bodies of the unconscious criminals to see if they would make any interesting sounds.

Usually they don’t, he finds out, but the fifth one lets out a pitiful groan after Dabi’s foot connects with his stomach. Coincidentally, it’s the same dickhead who hit him with a pipe earlier. The second time, Dabi kicks him harder.

“Stop that,” Eraser snaps at him, suddenly standing much closer, his hand hovering over Dabi’s shoulder as if to grab him but stopping just before making contact. A strange expression passes through his face and slowly, he puts the hand away, suddenly looking awkward. The dark circles under his eyes prominent as ever, the hero exhales heavily. “Just… don’t do that. You don’t kick someone who’s already down – literally, in this case. That’s not what heroes do.”

“I’m not a hero,” Dabi protests sharply, his voice closer to an actual bark than human speech. He has to clench his fists in order to prevent them from accidentally meeting Eraser’s face. Which time is it today that he has to say that?

Eraser’s eyebrow goes up. “Really?”

Gritting his teeth, Dabi grinds out a clipped, “Really.”

Eraser gets this considering look, his gaze burning with intensity of something Dabi can’t name as he examines him silently for a moment. “Because I’ve been hearing a lot about you these past few weeks, Dabi. Apparently, you’ve been saving people quite frequently. The stories they tell about you paint you as a rather heroic figure, despite what you claim. Not to mention your interference tonight, helping me, a hero, take down a bunch of criminals.”

“Ah yes, illegally beating up random assholes, a pinnacle of heroism.”

“A little misguided approach, sure,” Eraser admits, completely ignoring Dabi’s sarcasm, his dark eyes drilling into Dabi as if they can see a lot more in him than Dabi’s comfortable with. “But it’s the spirit that counts.”

Not knowing what to answer to that – not even sure if he wants to answer anything – Dabi does the only thing that he can think of.

He laughs.

“Nice joke, Eraser,” he says and if his grin is a bit more strained than normal, well, Eraser doesn’t need to know that.

What is he even trying to say? Dabi thought heroes are, like, universally against vigilantes – even underage ones. But instead of arresting him, as he should, Eraser is… what, encouraging him? Is that some sort of play to earn his trust? If it is, the man needn’t have bothered. Dabi would rather eat a Hawaiian pizza than ever trust a hero.

Deliberately, he turns around and kicks the collapsed thug one more time, if only to prove a point.

(But also definitely because it brings him the sweet, sweet satisfaction. His own stomach is still pretty sore, after all.) 

“I really want to point out how childish you are being but then I remember you’re an actual child,” the hero mutters under his breath, sighing, and, excuse him, what?

Dabi scowls. “Oh, fuck off.” He’s not childish, okay? He’s just… making sure to play the role. So no one suspects he isn’t actually a child. It’s not like he’s immature! He’s just a good actor!

But before he can get truly offended, Eraser’s disturbingly intense gaze is back on him, the man’s expression turning determined. Whatever he’s about to say cannot be anything good.

“Look, I get that it’s a sensitive subject with you, but are you sure you don’t need any help? I understand that it might be hard for you to trust any adult right now but—"

Dabi groans, loudly enough to interrupt the man’s speech. Sometimes, he hates being right. “If you understand, then why the fuck do you keep bringing it up? I already told you I don’t want your help. I can take care of myself.”

Eraser purses his lips, something akin to frustration flashing through his eyes. “You shouldn’t have to.”

“Too bad.” Bored with swinging it around, he carelessly tosses the pipe away. There’s a startled sound that indicates it might have hit one of the criminals – on accident, of course. “You’re an old man, you should know by now that life isn’t fair.”

There’s a short moment in which Eraser seems offended, which is obviously Dabi’s intention, but it disappears almost as soon as it appears. Their eyes lock in some sort of a battle of wills, both of them intent on not looking away first. What strikes Dabi is the genuine concern oozing out of Eraser – even if entirely misguided. He can respect that the hero truly seems to want to help, at least. Most people would only ask once, out of obligation more than an honest desire to help, and then be happy to never mention the issue again.

It’s a trait rarely found among heroes, in Dabi’s experience. Probably useful in his teacher’s career as well. It’s just that when you aren’t actually this poor abused child he sees you as, the man’s insistence on ‘saving’ you can really get on your nerves. Especially since Dabi would have to disclose his civilian identity if he accepted the offer and he would really prefer not to. Even if it means he won’t be able to witness the shitshow that the Number Two Hero being accused of child abuse would certainly turn out to be.

Not that Eraser would believe him. Nobody has ever believed him.

“Alright, I won’t ask you about it again,” the man concedes, although he doesn’t look very pleased about it. “But if you ever need anything…”

“Yes, yes, I can come to you, whatever.” Dabi waves his hand dismissively. “We both know I won’t.” He ignores the way something clenches in his gut uncomfortably. It’s probably an internal bleeding or something. Definitely not feelings.

“If you ever change your mind—”

“You should call the police, Eraser,” he interrupts again, eyeing the bodies that are slowly starting to stir. “Your buddies are going to wake up soon.”

The hero follows his gaze and curses quietly when he notices that Dabi is right. Mind you, most of them are still out cold and are probably going to stay that way for quite some time, but even one or two waking up prematurely and starting another fight would be a hassle nobody wants. Unfortunately for Eraser, his capture weapon – although already much longer than reasonable – isn’t long enough to keep all of the criminals restrained until reinforcements arrive.

Eraser is lucky Dabi is such a generous person.

“Here, catch.” He throws the man a thick bundle of his signature pink glittery string, shooting him a smirk. Eraser catches it easily but his face is full of questions. “This should keep them in place.”

For a moment, the man is simply staring at the string incomprehensively as if waiting for it to start explaining the reason for its existence. It’s pretty funny, if you ask him. Dabi uses Eraser’s momentary distraction to land another kick to his favourite victim’s ribs. Somewhere in the background, more criminals groan in pain. The world is beautiful.

“You’re something else,” Eraser finally says, a sliver of amusement in his usually deadpan voice. The man shakes his head in bewilderment but still approaches the closest guy and starts tying him up. When the thug begins to move, mumbling something incohesive, Eraser grabs his hair and unceremoniously bashes his head against the ground to knock him out again. “Not a word,” he mutters even before Dabi can do anything else than raise a judging eyebrow.

“Need a hand with that?” he asks generously, although hoping very hard the man will say no. He’s not exactly eager to spend the rest of his night tying up some random guys. It’s not that he’s not into bondage – he’s mostly just not into ugly people.

As if sensing his thoughts, Eraser rolls his eyes and waves him off. “No, you can go. You don’t want the police to see you here.”

That’s definitely true. And if it gets him out of the boring parts, then isn’t being a vigilante instead of a hero really the best choice he could have made?

“You’re welcome, by the way,” he says cheekily when he’s almost at the exit, all too aware that at no point did Eraser thank him for his troubles. The hero’s only response to that is an unimpressed stare. Dabi chuckles, not expecting anything else. “Okay, be that way. Next time I’m gonna let them beat you up!”

“Please, do.”

Ignoring him, Dabi waves cheerily. “See you around!”

“I really would prefer not to! Stay home and do your homework or something!”

Dabi barks a laugh. “Fuck off!”

Chapter Text

Dabi's in the middle of taking his shirt off - unfortunately, not in any fun context - when he hears Keigo draw in a sharp breath.

"What?" he asks, throwing the shirt on the floor carelessly, despite having a perfectly usable hanger right in front of him. He turns around to find many more eyes than just Keigo's focused on him, which is just creepy, thank you very much – he knows he’s hot, but it’s a pretty strong reaction to his good looks alone, if you ask him. Which makes him realize there’s probably something he’s missing here.

And then he remembers.

Already scolding himself for being an idiot, he glances down at his exposed chest and, yup, it's covered in bruises. And an occasional cut or two. And one tiny teeny totally unimportant gunshot wound that he isn't going to talk about.

His classmates are all staring at him in various degrees of horror, fascination and disgust. It’s probably kind of sad that he’s pretty used to people looking at him like that.

"What the hell happened to you, Todoroki?" blurts one of the guys, whose name Dabi struggles to recall at first, his eyes wide and glued to the mess that is Dabi’s chest. And he’s not the only one. Even Kaneko can’t help but stare. Which, again, rude. Damn Keigo for distracting him before he could slip away to change in his usual bathroom stall.

But really, for people who aspire to be heroes, they all seem overly surprised to see injuries that, for any working hero, would be nothing more than a slight inconvenience. Granted, Dabi isn't a hero and his hero-adjacent activities are a secret, so he can see why they would be alarmed. Still, these are hero course students and getting hurt is a huge part of that job. If they aren't ready to get some scars, they would be better off resigning now that they still have all their limbs attached and no life-long psychological trauma haunting their nightmares.

Briefly, he wonders what they would say about his previous scars, if they’re so disturbed by something so mild.

"Not your business, Hahn," he replies cheerily, not even certain if that’s the guy’s name, reaching for his new (and improved) hero costume and quickly putting it on to make them stop ogling him like a damn freak at a zoo. Do they not have anything better to do? Surely there are more interesting things to gape at than a few bruises.

Bruises that, in all logic, he shouldn’t even have. With his quirk being what it is, getting close enough to land a hit on him used to be close to impossible. In all his years as a villain, the number of times someone actually managed to physically hurt him could be counted on the fingers of one hand. And now, a little over a month has passed and he looks like a fucking punching bag. All because of some stupid laws.

At the very beginning of his vigilante gig, he slipped quite often, using his quirk when the fight seemed to be becoming too tedious and he just wanted to end it quickly. Quite careless on his part, he can admit, but, well. He wasn't getting bruises then.

However, it didn’t take long for the stories of a mysterious stranger bearing blue flames to start flying around and, subsequently, for him to realize that it might not have been a very smart thing to do. Fire quirks are common, sure, but his is special and it wouldn’t be that hard to identify him through it. Especially since, this time around, he isn't, you know, legally dead. And as much as, to him, there aren’t many differences between being a vigilante and being a hero, the law disagrees. For them, he could just as well still be a villain.  

(And isn't that funny? Somehow, in their minds, saving people without a stupid piece of plastic with his name on it is the same as, let’s say, setting the building on fire and listening to the glorious screams of people perishing in his flames. Ridiculous.)

Even so, his own opinion notwithstanding, he’s become way more careful not to show off his quirk during his outings since that realization. Instead, he started to rely on improvised weapons he could pick up in the moment, in addition to carrying a small combat knife for real emergencies, and continued like that. Which isn’t that much of a problem, except for the fact that it leads to much more close range combat, and therefore a lot more bruises. The bright side is, most of his encounters, even if they result in some minor injury, are the 'you should see the other guy' kind of situations. The less bright side? It still results in a lot of unwanted questions when someone happens to see him without his shirt on, apparently.  

"Probably his daddy beating him up for being such a freak," Kaneko sneers, his grimace showing off his yellowed fangs. Out of everyone, his eyes shine with the brightest hatred.      

Some people immediately raise protests. Not for him though, oh no – for Endeavor. The mere suggestion of their precious Number Two being abusive seems to enrage them. Surprise, surprise. Dabi would have laughed at the irony of it if he wasn't so disgusted. No matter how rudely presented, domestic abuse is a perfectly logical conclusion one should at least entertain when seeing a teenager covered from head to toe in bruises. Them all just dismissing the possibility without a second thought makes Dabi want to burn something. Or someone.  

He doesn't, of course, because he’s a good boy now, and also he has more urgent things to take care of, like Keigo going still beside him after hearing that comment, mouth already opening to defend Dabi’s honour. Which is sweet but completely unnecessary. Dabi quickly grabs his wrist to stop him, sending him a look that he hopes conveys something like 'I will explain later, while we're in private' and also 'please, do not make a scene'. Yes, it’s a bit hypocritical coming from him, but he means it. Kaneko's words are just that – words. They don’t mean anything. Especially this time, since they aren't even true anyway. There is no need to make it into a bigger deal than it is.

"You would know something about that, wouldn't you?" Dabi taunts back, smiling a little too wide, despite what his wise inside voice says. He vividly remembers the reaction Kaneko had to his comment about daddy issues before. It's only natural to use it against him. "Projecting much?"

As in on cue, Kaneko turns bright red and lets out a deep growl, but he also shuts up and that's enough for Dabi. Bullies get boring pretty quickly, he's learnt. Especially ones as one-dimensional and underdeveloped as poor Kaneko.

Some other boys, the ones that aren’t in Kaneko’s fan club, snicker at the reaction, entirely too amused. Dabi knows this is just how teenagers are and yet it still annoys him. Sure, he did say that to be an asshole and he did say that with an intention to hurt the other boy, but he also suspects Kaneko's home life really isn't all sunshine and roses, so people just laughing it off makes him kinda mad. Which might be a bit hypocritical, if Kaneko wasn’t literally his bully. So, unlike the rest of them, Dabi thinks he has a right to be a dick to the boy. After all, he's only defending himself and really, being a victim doesn't justify hurting others.

Ah.

That was kind of a self-burn, wasn't it? Not really surprising. Dabi has always been good at those.  

"No, but for real, what happened?" someone else dares to ask after a short moment of glorious silence, bringing Dabi back from his self-pitying musings.

The boy who asked this time seems more interested in some bad-ass story than worried for Dabi's well-being, face eager and eyes twinkling with excitement. Like he thinks this is all just a fun game. Like being a hero is just having exciting stories to tell and cool scars to show-off. Like Dabi couldn't have died from most of these wounds if his reaction was just a bit too slow.

There are more boys like him in the locker room, naive and overconfident, gawking at Dabi with something resembling awe or maybe even grudging respect. Those are the ones most likely to die within their first year of real hero work. Assuming they even manage to get that far. Dabi might heavily dislike math, but he likes statistics. And statistics say that almost 30% of young heroes die or get permanently crippled within the first two years after their debut. For some reason, this fact is not mentioned very often.

And besides all of that, their excitement is just plain stupid. For all they know, he might have simply gotten his ass kicked by some rampaging villain.

As for the others, well, they either lost interest already, having better things to do with their lives than intrude on his, or are waiting for some embarrassing story to mock him for. They keep shooting each other conspiratorial smirks, completely unbothered by the fact that he can clearly see them, whispering scathing comments and generally acting as anything but heroes. Or maybe exactly like heroes, depending on the perspective.   

And Dabi, who is now dressed again and who can still feel Keigo's suspicious slash concerned looks on him, is not really in the mood to be answering their questions. It's not like he owes any of them an explanation - they're not his friends, they're not his enemies, they’re just some background characters he couldn’t name if his life depended on it. He doesn’t have to tell them shit.

But he knows they won't let it go unless he tells them something – preferably something boring enough to get them off his case. The last thing he needs is some overeager moron snitching on him to a teacher, out of spite or, god forbid, concern.

"There is this thing called hero training," he eventually says, in a deliberately slow fashion. "You should try it sometime."

Keigo snorts, even if he clearly doesn't mean to, and a lot of other people exclaim in disappointment, but Dabi tunes them out. The class is about to start and he isn't about to be late again. His calves still hurt after the last time.

***

He manages to dodge Keigo’s questions up until lunch break. When the bell eventually announces their freedom, Keigo unceremoniously grabs his wrist and, ignoring their classmate’s snickering about their ‘lovers’ squabble’, drags him all the way up to the roof. For a moment, he wants to protest – he did not forget what happened the last time Keigo took him to that roof and he’s not eager to have a repeat of that experience – and it’s only because of his friend’s obvious concern that he doesn’t. In the end, he has to admit it makes sense to go there if they're going to have a conversation about certain... sensitive topics. They don’t want anyone to accidentally overhear them.

It seems as though Keigo is barely restraining himself from demanding answers the entire way there, but after they finally sit down on a makeshift blanket made from their uniform jackets and take out their food, he’s suspiciously silent. The air is unusually crisp, with a hint of chilly wind raising goosebumps all over Dabi’s bare ankles. He's glad he chose to wear a thick, baby pink, oversize hoodie (that he isn't technically allowed to be wearing but oh well), because at least it protects him from most of the bite. Keigo isn’t so lucky, shivering slightly in his plain white t-shirt.

Maybe he would have offered the other boy his hoodie, like a good fake-boyfriend would, if he wasn’t already feeling so naked under Keigo’s piercing gaze. His friend’s eyes never seem to leave Dabi’s chest, despite the thick material covering all of the injuries, as if he thinks he will be able to see them if he just stares hard enough. There's an adorable crease between his eyebrows, an obvious sign of worry, and his lips are pressed into a stiff line. Dabi wishes he could say he appreciates the concern. Mostly, he just dreads having to explain. 

Eventually, Keigo clears his throat. "It wasn't your dad... was it?"

Dabi sighs, deciding that nope, he is not doing that without some sort of intoxicating substance, and pulls out a cigarette, paying no mind to his friend's disgusted grimace. "'Course not. I told you I could deal with him."

"Then what the hell happened to you?"  

That's a good question, isn't it? It's not like Dabi doesn't want Keigo to know about his nightly activities. It's just that Dabi really doesn't want Keigo to know about his nightly activities. And that's because the boy will inevitably freak out. Because he will think it's dangerous or some shit. It will be a whole thing.

"Do we really need to talk about it?" he whines in an obvious attempt at changing the subject. It most likely won't work but he’s willing to try anyway. "Why don't we talk about you instead? Is that a new haircut?"

"Dabi." Keigo's frown deepens. He’s cute when he’s so serious. And, hey, he isn't calling him Touya anymore.

"What? Don't get me wrong, it looks really nice–"

"You didn't go back to being a villain, did you?"

That sufficiently shuts Dabi up. That’s what Keigo’s been thinking is going on? For real? Does he really think so little of him? Like, okay, he’s been going out at night a lot and getting weird injuries and maybe lying a bit sometimes and...

Well. He can imagine how it might seem that way. Shit. And now Keigo's body is so tense, his feathers all sharp, like he's expecting to be attacked any moment, and it really is turning into a déjà vu very quickly. Now he really needs to explain, before Keigo gets all stabby again.

He rubs his temples and lets out a resigned sigh. "You wound me, birdie. I told you I wanted to be a better person, didn't I?"

Keigo's body loses some of its tension but he remains understandably wary. "Well, you can't blame me. Those morons from our class might be stupid enough to believe you got a gunshot wound from hero training, but I do actually have some brain cells."

"Oh, come on, you think my daddy dearest wouldn't shoot me if he thought it would make me a better hero? The only reason he hasn’t tried is—"

"Dabi!” Keigo snaps, apparently not in the mood for jokes. “Stop deflecting and explain,"

Rolling his eyes to show how unimpressed he is with this entire interrogation, Dabi says, "Fine, fine. You're so touchy today, jeez."

"If you aren't back to being a villain," Keigo starts, still without a trace of humour, "and if it wasn't your dad, then how did you get those injuries?"

With one last drag, Dabi finishes his cigarette and puts it out on the concrete. He tosses the butt over the edge, hoping it will fall onto some asshole’s head.

"Honestly, I thought you would've figured it out by now, but I guess you don't check hero forums that much. People have been talking about it a lot. A mysterious new vigilante, powerful quirk, something like blue fire. I heard he calls himself Dabi. A little edgy, if you ask me."

The entire time he’s talking, he’s staring straight into Keigo's eyes (even though there's nothing straight about how pretty he finds them), waiting for the other boy to connect the dots. Or, more like, notice the finished picture. Dabi really couldn't lay it on any more thick than that if he tried.

"You're a vigilante?!" Keigo screeches once his brain catches up, his pretty eyes going comically wide. His wings flutter anxiously, one of them nearly smacking Dabi in the face and the other managing to flip over Keigo’s bento, decorating the roof with an abstract painting made from the remains of his chicken salad.

In one smooth motion, Dabi puts his hand over Keigo's mouth to shut him up. Instinctively, he looks around to check if anyone’s heard, but, of course, there's no one else around. Still. "Scream louder, why don't you. I think the first floor couldn't hear you."

Keigo mumbles something into his hand but it's impossible to understand. He can feels the boy’s mouth twisting into a pout, his frown deepening. Fingers curl around Dabi's wrist, trying to pull his hand away, but Dabi only smirks and holds his ground against the suspiciously insignificant force.

"I will let you talk if you promise not to yell anymore."

Keigo narrows his eyes and doesn't try to speak again. He makes no gesture that would indicate his agreement and so Dabi keeps his hand in place.

Then, out of nowhere, Keigo licks him. Even though his smirk isn’t visible, his face is still able to convey his smugness. Poor thing. He really thinks he did something there, huh?

Dabi levels his friend with an unimpressed stare and doesn't move his hand. Keigo’s smugness is quick to turn into frustrated confusion.

"Oh, come on, birdie, you really thought I would get squeaky about some light licking? Believe me, where I come from, you and I used to do way more than just lick hands," Dabi informs him cheerily, wiggling his eyebrows.

Keigo blushes initially but then growls in exasperation and tugs on his wrist harder. Dabi, feeling generous, lets him go.

"You're an asshole."

Dabi hums in agreement, taking a sip of tea from his brand new neon green thermos.

"And you're completely crazy! You can't be a vigilante!"

"I used to be a villain," Dabi points out. "I think that's an improvement."

"Shut up! It's basically the same thing!"

Hawks would never say that, a bitter part of him whispers without warning, halting the immediate cheeky response that’s on the tip of his tongue.

And with that innocent thought, something dark appears in his stomach, growing and twisting uncomfortably, like a parasite that won't leave no matter how hard you try to get rid of it. A black mass of resentment squeezing his heart and threatening to choke him, filling his mouth with poisonous words he has to fight to keep inside. It's a familiar feeling, one he's been getting more and more often. One he’s been vehemently chasing away so he won’t feel like a cruel asshole.

It's the fact that he knows, completely and irrevocably, that his Hawks would be ecstatic if he found out Dabi rebranded into a vigilante. It's the knowledge that with his Hawks, there would be no frowning or boring talks about legality and morality, and other useless crap. It’s the crushing reality that, no matter how hard he tries, Keigo will never be Hawks. This boy in front of him, even if he has the same face, will never be the person Dabi fell in love with,.

Truth be told, he’s been struggling with that realization for a while now. It started slowly. He would hear Keigo say something entirely non-Hawks-like and this ugly surge of annoyance would spread all over his insides. He would crack a joke that he’s sure Hawks would find funny and be met with bewilderment,  if not utter horror. He would be excited to share something that happened, something he would tell Hawks about without a moment of hesitation, and find himself unable to do it, too wary of Keigo’s reaction. Not to mention the unwarranted irritation at some of his friend’s behaviours, at his righteousness, his childishness, the naivety that blinds him to the reality of the world.

He never lets any of it show, obviously. It’s not Keigo's fault that Dabi expects him to be someone else, someone he isn't and will never be. It’s not fair to compare them, he knows that too. But with every day, it becomes more and more difficult to pretend that everything is fine. To pretend that he doesn’t miss the real Hawks.

(But then again, he doubts Keigo would blame him. He probably feels exactly the same way about his Touya. They are both in a very fucked-up situation.)

It’s neither the time nor the place for this conversation though, so Dabi swallows the acidic taste in his mouth and continues their banter as if nothing was wrong.     

"You know it's not. Vigilantes used to chase me, back in the day. Most of them are just wannabe heroes who were deemed not good enough for the ‘real’ job. Or people who think legal ways aren't always the most efficient."

"So, villains," Keigo deadpans.

"No."

"Your opinion doesn't count, you're biased."

Dabi's eyebrows rise. "I'm biased? You—"

They bicker for a while after that, long enough for the lunch break to come to an end and for most of the background noises to quiet. They don't bother going back to class. Dabi isn’t even sure if Keigo noticed they should, but he’s definitely not about to point it out.

Eventually, they fall silent, despite not reaching any conclusion. Keigo seems more resigned than angry now though. It’s still far from what Hawks would be like, but it’s an acceptance. It has to be enough.

Dabi catches himself humming some sombre melody he can't quite recall the name of, when Keigo speaks again, this time much calmer, "But really, a vigilante?  If someone catches you—"

"They won't," Dabi interrupts with a snort. "I didn't get caught when I was a murderous psychopath and the second-in-command of a terrorist organization. I sure as fuck won't let them catch me now that I’m just beating up some assholes."

Keigo doesn't look convinced. Of course he doesn’t – he’s still under the impression that the law gives a shit. Although, now that he thinks about it, that expression might be less about that and more about being reminded what kind of person Dabi used to be.

"Your arrogance will bite you in the ass, you will see."

"Sure," Dabi agrees easily, lighting another cigarette.

Keigo glares at it with the funniest look of disdain and points a finger at Dabi's chest. "You're gonna die from this stuff. You're gonna get lung cancer and die, and I won't even cry after you."

"Liar," Dabi says, exhaling a bunch of smoke right into the boy’s face.

"Maybe." Keigo shrugs, finally reaching to clean up the leftovers of his food. "But I will be very happy when I get to tell you that I told you so."

There’s a silence between them for a while, Dabi busy smoking and Keigo busy mourning his lunch. Dabi’s eyes catch on the twirl of smoke spiralling lazily from the tip of his burning cigarette and he follows it until it inevitably fuses with the air. There’s something inherently calming about watching things burn.   

"You know,” Dabi says quietly after a moment, eyes still glued to the slowly burning cigarette. “For the longest time, I thought it would be my father who kills me." Keigo stills beside him, with a dirty piece of chicken still between his fingers. "Then he tried and it didn't work. After that, I was sure I would kill myself eventually on my quest for revenge, but at least I hoped to take him with me."

"Dabi—"

"So dying of a lung cancer doesn't actually sound so bad, you know?" he interrupts before his friend can get sappy on him. "It’s all a matter of perspective. As far as I’m concerned, dying of something I love doing is a pretty good way to go.” He shrugs, offering Keigo a small smile. “But I guess I would prefer not dying at all. Weird that it's always some version of you that makes me feel that way."

"I—"

Dabi shakes his head. "Don't mind me. I'm just a little tired."

Keigo look is meaningful enough to convey how much he doesn’t believe it, but thankfully he lets it go. "If you say so."

Chasing away the sudden melancholy, Dabi puts out the cigarette, then abruptly stands up. He takes a moment to brush off the non-existent dirt from his pants and after that, offers his hand to a still sitting Keigo.

"Wanna see if we can sneak out of here without anyone catching us? I know a great boba place nearby."

As is his nature, Keigo hesitates. (Of course he does, a nasty part of his brain whispers viciously.) Skipping class isn't something he would normally do, Dabi knows. He’s not the top student for nothing. It probably means he's being a bad influence on a poor kid, but who cares. At least they're having fun.

"Yeah, sure," Keigo says eventually, smiling and grabbing onto Dabi’s hand. Like this, with his hair windswept and his eyes sparkling with mischief, he resembles Hawks more than ever. Dabi isn’t sure if it makes him easier to look at or harder.

“It’s my treat, then.”

And if the next day their homeroom teacher gives them both detention, well, Dabi likes to believe it was worth it. 

***

“You are aware it’s illegal, right? What you’re doing?” Eraser asks, leaning casually against the cracked wall in one of many identical shady alleys that litter this part of town, looking as bored and indifferent as ever.

Dabi doesn't flinch at the sudden appearance of the hero. At this point, he’s rather used to the unannounced visits. The man has been bothering him a lot ever since their encounter at the warehouse, deaf to Dabi’s less-than-polite requests to leave him the fuck alone. It’s like Eraser has some sort of sixth sense for when Dabi gets in trouble – it seems like the man is there every time he's dealing with some criminal. At this point, he almost expects Eraser to pop out of his fridge one of these days.

“It’s not anymore,” he replies flippantly as the tip of his heavy boot meets the stomach of some creep he has just got off of a frightened lady. A stifled moan is the only response the guy gives, probably still dizzy after having his head slammed against the wall. There’s a trickle of blood running down the man’s forehead, which is a good sign for the inhabitants of the building they’re next to. Seems like they have pretty thick walls. “I’m not using my quirk, so, technically, I’m not breaking the law. I checked.”

Eraser spares one look at the man on the ground and continues to look unimpressed. Dabi starts to think it might just be his regular face. “It might not be specifically vigilantism, but it’s still assault. You know that’s a crime too, right?”

The thug under his legs lets out a groan and wobbly attempts to push himself to his feet. Annoyed at the pest’s idiotic stubbornness, Dabi rolls his eyes and kicks him again, hard enough to make something crack. Probably a rib. A strangled shout escapes from between the guy’s bloody lips and a few tears begin to roll down his face.

“What? That’s not assault, that’s self-defence!”

The hero's pointed look says exactly how much he believes it. “Self-defence is when you are defending yourself. Emphasis on defending. And even then, there’s this thing called 'too excessive' self-defence.”

"I don't think I'm being too excessive," Dabi argues, crossing his arms. The criminal at his feet coughs up some blood. "I'm just making sure they learn not to do it again."

Eraser sighs and closes his eyes, as if he has to remind himself why he’s even trying. And really, he should reveal his findings out loud, because Dabi sure would like to know too.

"Breaking both arms and legs of that one guy two days ago wasn't a little too excessive for you?"

Dabi narrows his eyes, a burst of anger firing inside him at the mere reminder of that asshole. "He tried to kidnap a child. He already had another one in his van. He's fucking lucky that's all I did to him."

The hero purses his lips, which Dabi interprets to mean that he secretly agrees with Dabi’s treatment of that particular fucker. Still, he raises an eyebrow and doesn't give up. "And that woman earlier? You absolutely had to crush all of her fingers?"

"She shouldn't have been touching people without permission if she wanted to keep them," he spits, unashamed of his actions. He is only ‘excessive’ with people who deserve it.

Eraser sighs, but doesn't offer any comment. Dabi guesses it would be hard to try and defend a rapist. "And what about that older guy..."

"Are you spying on me?" Dabi interrupts with a frown. Sure, he’s been joking about seeing Eraser all the time, but he wasn’t actually seeing him all the time. He doesn’t remember Eraser being at any of these scenes.

"Yes," the man admits without a hint of hesitation. At least he has enough balls for that, Dabi muses dryly.

They stare at each other defiantly for a long moment, neither displaying any signs of remorse, both determined not to look away first. Usually, Dabi enjoys those kinds of mind games and is quite good at them too, but this time the drive to win is quick to disappear. The corner of his mouth twitches, almost against his will, and soon he closes his eyes, letting out an amused huff.

"Yeah, fair enough, I guess."

It should annoy him more to be stalked like that, but, for some reason, it doesn’t. He’s pretty sure Eraser isn’t about to turn him in and having someone to bicker with is entertaining enough. God knows the usual thugs he’s dealing with don’t even have enough brains to crack a joke. With those, the only things doing the cracking are their bones.

He lets the topic slide, aware that his lack of protest will be taken as a silent permission for this stalking to continue. Perhaps it would concern him more if Eraser needed his permission in the first place.

"But really, why is it only self-defence? Why can’t you defend others? Laws are stupid,” he goes back to their earlier subject, absentmindedly trying to rub the blood off his boots.

Eraser sighs and, considering he’s only about twenty-one, he sounds entirely too much like an old man already. “You can if you’re a hero."

"Well, I'm not," Dabi says with irritation. It’s such a stupid argument. Eraser can’t really believe that, can he? Even heroes cannot be that blind to reality. "What then? Should I have just ignored someone being hurt?"

"No, you should have alerted me and let me take care of that.”

“Oh yeah, I’m sure this asshole would happily wait with raping that girl until I called a hero. Why didn’t I think of it? Next time, I will be sure to ask him. He looks like a nice fellow, I’m sure he will agree,” Dabi makes sure to put as much sarcasm into his voice as possible. “You’re full of shit, Eraser.”

Unsurprisingly, the hero doesn't have a reply to that. His expression is as unreadable as always, but there’s clearly some sort of internal conflict behind his dark eyes. Maybe he hasn’t realised before what that man was trying to do. Maybe he arrived too late to hear that girl cry for help loud enough to make Dabi's ears hurt and yet have nobody react. Maybe he wasn’t there to see the heart-wrenching look of relief on her face when Dabi pulled that fucker off her and told her to run.

Or, maybe, there just wasn't a right way to admit that, by hero standards, he should have just let it happen.

"And anyway," Dabi continues when the silence stretches a little too much for his liking, "how was I supposed to alert you? Do you respond to some kind of bat-signal I don't know about?"

Eraser blinks, like he didn't even think about it. He probably didn't.

"Right. I will give you my phone number, just in case," the man mumbles, reaching into his pocket, probably searching for his phone. He pauses before pulling it out though and sends Dabi an uncertain look. “...Do you even have a phone?"

At that, Dabi snorts, cheekily showing off his unreasonably expensive state-of-the-art newest model of whatever superior brand Enji tried to buy his love with this time. "Probably a better one than you."

And now the hero is glaring at him judgmentally. The nerve.

"I didn't steal it, jeez." He rolls his eyes theatrically as he puts the phone back into his pocket, and this time, the spark of irritation is somewhat real. He’s told Eraser he wasn't homeless, hasn’t he? "And I don't need your number. Didn't I tell you to fuck off?"

Eraser barks out a laugh, even if he seems a bit embarrassed about this whole phone thing. "At least once every time we meet. I figured you would realize by now it wasn't working."

"A guy can dream," he mutters to himself, but fishes his phone out again and, against his better judgment, tosses it to the hero, who, unfortunately, manages to catch it without much of a problem. Dabi might have secretly wished he wouldn't, just so he could force the trash man to buy him an even more expensive one.

Despite having caught the phone with ease, the hero stares at it with poorly masked surprise. He obviously wasn't expecting Dabi to actually let him anywhere near his phone. But what Eraser doesn't know yet is that one of Dabi’s greatest hobbies is shocking people with his behaviour and this was simply too good of an opportunity to pass.

(This is his ‘work’ phone anyway – one a little more permanent than the usual burners but still not real – so it's not like there's anything that could point towards his identity on it, he tells himself to feel a little less like an idiot.)

"Well?" he says after the man has been staring at the phone for an entire minute. "Are you putting your number in or not? I actually have places to be tonight."

He doesn't mention that those 'places' include his favourite Mexican bar and then maybe a supermarket, since he’s running out of energy drinks and he’s almost sure he has school tomorrow.   Eraser doesn't need to know his every dirty secret.

Judging by the doubtful rise of his eyebrow, Eraser clearly doesn’t believe Dabi has anywhere important to be, but he puts his number in without further delays, so that's a win. Dabi couldn't care less what some hero thinks of him anyway.

As if somehow reading his mind, Eraser’s demeanour shifts into amusement, eyes locked on something he found on Dabi’s phone. A snort escapes the hero’s mouth, seemingly without permission.

"You have someone's number saved as 'chicken nugget' with four hearts next to it?" he asks, full on smirking now, and the sight of it is so creepy it sends shivers down Dabi’s spine. The tone of the man’s voice indicates he’s expecting Dabi to be embarrassed by this discovery, but too bad for him, Dabi is very proud of that name. It might be a little cliche but it's cute enough and it does the job of making Keigo flustered every time he sees it.

"It's five hearts. One is just not visible because the name is too long," Dabi makes sure to correct him on this very important detail. Four hearts would be an insult. Everyone knows things like that only look good if they come in uneven numbers.

Eraser tilts his head curiously, that uncomfortable smirk still twisting his face into something horrible. He seems to be having way too much fun for Dabi’s liking. "Girlfriend?"

"Boyfriend, actually," Dabi says cheerily, but his eyes narrow in an obvious challenge. Oh, how he’s been waiting to say that again. It’s always so satisfying to watch the other person stumble over their words awkwardly, caught off guard by the casual admission, their pretty little heteronormative world crumbling in front of their eyes.

The words leave a bitter taste on his tongue though. Not because he’s ashamed or worried about Eraser’s reaction but because, well, they aren’t true, are they? The name of the contact may be the same as it was in the other universe but the person behind it is an entirely different story. No matter how much he wishes it wasn’t like that. But the painful truth is: Keigo isn’t really his boyfriend. Hawks is.

(Was.)

Still, even bombarded by an unexpected influx of unpleasant emotions, he makes sure to observe the hero carefully, waiting for any negative reaction his admission may cause. Sure, Eraser has never given any indication of being homophobic, but in situations like this it’s better to be safe than sorry. He’s learnt the hard way how much awfulness people can hide behind a friendly face. On instinct, one of his hands reaches down to where he has his knife stripped to his thigh. He could stop it but he doesn’t. He also doesn’t relax any of his muscles.

If Eraser notices his sudden hostility, he makes no sign of it. Instead, he only nods, as if confirming a suspicion he already had, his creepy smirk turning into a much less sinister, warm smile. "I have my husband saved as 'cockatoo mcscream' so I can't really judge you."

Husband. The word echoes inside Dabi’s mind for what feels like eternity, chasing all the other thoughts away, leaving him with nothing but static. Husband. Eraser gets to have a husband. Present Mic, no doubt, judging by that description. A strange urge to laugh bubbles dangerously inside his stomach. He stifles it, afraid that if he lets it out, he might end up crying instead. Husband.  

It’s a little like a slap to the face. It’s not the hero’s fault that Dabi’s life is a fucked-up mess, but it just feels so unfair. When Eraser brags about the embarrassing nickname for his husband, the man behind it is real. He’s not a pale shadow, a version of himself that’s so different as to almost feel like another person altogether, a stranger wearing his lover’s face. He’s here – alive, tangible and loving. And why can’t Dabi have that? Why did that asshat have to hit him with his stupid quirk and ruin everything? Why is it that, in order to get a second chance at life, a chance to save his family, he had to sacrifice the one thing that he wanted to keep the most?

The wave of raw jealousy hits him so unexpectedly that he can't quite stifle a few sparks that ignite between his fingers. He grits his teeth hard enough to hurt. Why? Why him? Why couldn’t Hawks somehow come with? Why does some hero get to have a husband and a great life, and a successful career in front of him when Dabi gets nothing but pain?

The light from the fire illuminates the dark alley for long enough that Eraser must notice his no doubt slightly feral expression, because he takes an alarmed step back. His fingers curl carefully around the capture weapon, although he doesn’t move to use it.  

The sudden change in atmosphere brings Dabi back to reality. He promptly deactivates his quirk and hides his hands in his pockets. What the fuck is wrong with him? This isn't the time to be a baby about his messed-up life. What next, is he going to cry? Write gushy love letters to Hawks’ ghost, begging him not to leave? He really ought to get a grip.

"How may hearts do you have next to it?" he asks the hero, long after the silence between them turns suffocating, trying to mask his weird feelings as well as he can. He thinks he succeeds, at least a little, but Eraser doesn’t relax and his expression remains guarded. His grip on his scarf loosens though, and instead he crosses his arms.

"Three," the hero answers slowly, his voice surprisingly stiff and careful. Dabi doesn’t remember the man ever being so wary of him in this timeline. Even when he was beating up assholes in front of him, Eraser never looked anything but completely calm and relaxed. Now though, his dark eyes are locked on Dabi's posture, wary and calculating, as though dealing with a wild animal. He doesn’t look like he’s about to attack but he is fully ready to defend himself if it comes to that. A bit of an extreme reaction for some innocent sparks if you asked Dabi, but not an unreasonable one. No matter how friendly he is, Eraser is still a hero and Dabi an unpredictable unknown.   

Maybe it's a good thing. Dabi isn't actually planning on attacking the man – he knows when he’s outclassed and Eraser’s quirk is a very unfortunate pain in the ass – but maybe the hero could use a reminder that he isn't talking to some helpless child. He's talking to a very dangerous person who only chooses to keep him alive, despite being borderline stalked, because of a whim.

"So I win, then." Dabi nods, grinning sharply. Might as well lean into the dangerous impression. Maybe then Eraser will finally leave him alone.

For some reason though, his heart speeds up as he does so, loud enough that he wouldn't be surprised if Eraser could hear it, especially in the dead silent alley. Somewhere along the way the would-be rapist must have passed out, because he stopped making those annoying noises, and now the only things breaking the tense quiet is Dabi's heart and their quiet breaths.

He doesn’t understand why he’s suddenly so emotional. Must be all the stress. The usually familiar grey walls of the alley start making Dabi feel claustrophobic and so does Eraser’s intense stare. Logically, he knows he’s not really mad at the man, but he is mad and it’s enough for his body to tingle with want that is impossible to describe. He really should leave before anything goes up in flames – the alley, the useless criminal or Eraser himself.

"I didn't know this was a competition," Eraser answers after a moment of consideration, still careful, but a little more relaxed. His face goes back to its usual blankness and his shoulders drop, his hands now resting in the pockets of his jumpsuit. He's still staring though – making Dabi feel like he’s some feral animal that needs to be guarded lest he buries his non-existent claws in the watcher’s neck – and it only serves to piss him off more.

Heroes are always the same. They might pretend to be nice and act as if they want to be your friends, sell you stories about how they want to help you be better, but in the end they will always see you as a villain. Something uncontrollable that needs to be subdued. A difficulty to eliminate. No matter how much you try, no matter how many people you save, one misstep is all it takes for them to brand you as a dangerous beast again. Even if you never gave them a reason for it in the first place. Even if doing exactly the same thing – or worse, really – with a hero license would only earn you a round of applause. 

He was starting to believe Eraser might be different. He should have known better.

"You don't know many things, Eraser," he snaps, a little more bite to his voice than he intends. Something on his face must show more than he wants the hero to know about, because the man loses all of his wariness and he even takes a few steps closer, as if to fix his earlier fuck-up, but it's too late now. Dabi is not in the mood to accept his apology. "I have things to do. Take care of that garbage of a human for me, would you?"

He turns to leave immediately after saying that, only catching Eraser’s frustrated expression in the corner of his eye. He’s walking away before his words can stop echoing through the darkness. The man doesn't try to stop him. Maybe he did learn something about respecting people’s privacy after all.  

A moment later, just as he’s exiting the alley, Eraser shouts his name and he squashes that thought. He starts running before he can consciously decide that, choosing a route towards his favourite supermarket without having to think about it. On his way, he passes some suspicious people who might be selling weed and even one very obvious robbery but he doesn't stop to help. Eraser can do that. He is the hero after all, right? And honestly, Dabi would probably just cremate the robber out of pure frustration if he tried to intervene, and say whatever you want, but a little stealing shouldn't earn you a death sentence.

It's only later, after he's lying comfortably in his bed, eyes sticky and fingers hurting from flipping through the damned math textbook, that he realizes Eraser never gave him back his phone.         

***

The next morning he is, predictably, very fucking tired.

Not a new thing by all means. In fact, he doesn’t remember the last time he’s slept through an entire night. Back with the League, sleep was not something easy to come by, with so many of them in one house and wildly different sleep schedules, and you never slept peacefully on the streets. But he managed to survive somehow.

(Come to think of it, it might have been the cocaine.)

Now though, with both school and vigilanting, it seems like a miracle that he’s still functioning. His young body is most likely just unused to so little sleep, but the weakness still annoys him. It’s like he’s tired all the time, no matter how much he does or doesn’t sleep.  Fortunately, he doesn’t actually have classes today – turns out it’s Sunday, thank fuck – and so he’s able to catch up on some of that missed rest.

At least that’s what he thinks, until his mother is calling him for yet another 'family' breakfast.

“Why,” he whines into a black pillow, hugging it closer, as if that would somehow prevent Rei from dragging him out of bed whether he wants it or not.

Unwilling to open his eyes, Dabi rolls himself to the left (after kicking the bedding off, of course) (yes, it’s satin) and then immediately lets out a shriek when his body falls to the floor with a thump. Most of the impact is cushioned by a black fluffy carpet, but he hits his elbow rather painfully against the black nightstand and ends up cursing whatever god created mornings until his throat goes dry.

What a great start of the day.

Instead of standing up, like he probably should, Dabi sprawls himself on the floor and lies like this for a moment, enjoying the feeling of softness on his skin. The carpet is still relatively new, so it’s both super fluffy and doesn’t smell like shit. Hugging it feels like being squished against one of those giant hairy cats. It’s been so long since he could feel anything on his skin, other than pain, that the pleasure of it almost makes him cry. He doesn't have energy for self-pity so early in the morning though, so he chases it away. All he's wearing are his pyjamas - meaning a simple black band t-shirt and a pair of black boxers – so he uses that fact to bury his legs and arms even deeper into the feathery material, trying to pretend he’s anywhere else than here and that he doesn’t have to go eat a meal with his father very soon.

(Technically, he doesn’t have to. He could simply refuse and not go. It would be easy. No one would force him. But they would all look so disappointed and besides, who knows what Endeavor would do if he wasn’t there to keep an eye on him.)

Eventually, he opens his eyes, but it only makes him groan more. His vindictive ass thought it would be a wonderful idea to make his room as obnoxious as possible, as edgy and dark as those basic bitch furniture stores would allow, full of skulls and fake blood, and lace, and all that weird goth shit. All so his father would flip and lose his temper every time he sees it.

But now Endeavor is suddenly nice, apparently. And so he never says a word about Dabi’s bedroom, even if his face turns a nice shade of red and the vein on his forehead seems ready to explode every time he goes inside. When it happened for the first time, Dabi was victorious, laughing at the reaction and staring at the room with fondness. But it quickly got old when no other reaction followed, not even one word of disapproval, therefore leaving Dabi frustrated, bored and with an ugly-ass bedroom.

It’s a weird kind of self-hatred you feels once you realize it’s your own pettiness that ends up biting you in the ass.

There’s a loud knock on his (black) door. Dabi’s not even hungover, but the noise hurts his brain anyway.

“Touya?” Natsu’s voice calls from outside.

“What?” he mumbles irritably, his glare now focused on the bedside lamp, one in a shape of a pair of vampire fangs.

“Get your ass downstairs! It’s breakfast! Mum promised to make us hot chocolate!”

Dabi sighs, rubbing his eyes with his fists. That does sound promising. “Yeah, yeah, I’m coming."

It takes him a good five minutes to force his limbs to actually move. The floor has never felt so tempting before, he swears. His eyelids seem to be closing of their own accord whenever he loses focus but with his cheek against the soft fabric of the carpet it’s hard to fight the lull of blissful sleep. It’s only after his eyes refuse to open for a full minute, threatening to stay like this for much longer, that he lets out a sigh and drags his limp body upwards. The sacrifices he makes for his family, honestly.

(There’s a stray thought again – they happen more and more often these days – about how much Hawks used to make fun of Dabi about his hatred of mornings. His boyfriend, true to his nature, thrived even at the earliest hours of the day. An ‘early bird’, Dabi used to joke. In response, he’s been mockingly dubbed a ‘sleeping beauty’. But no matter how much Hawks rolled his eyes at him and his whining, he always let him sleep in and they usually spent the weekends cuddled in his boyfriend’s bed until their stomachs forced them to order lunch, so it’s not like Dabi was actually complaining.)

Aaand there goes his good mood. Or whatever remnants of it there were to begin with. A venomous voice gloats in the back of his head how he should cherish the memory because it’s never going to happen again. He tells it to shut up, but it’s not like he can disagree.

Without bothering to change into something more decent, Dabi goes down to the dining room with a frown etched onto his face. He can only keep the foul attitude for so long though, as the sight of his family laughing and spending time together in happiness brings an unprompted smile to his lips. It may or may not have also something to do with the lack of certain someone.

"Bastard still hiding in his office?" he chuckles, taking the seat next to Natsu and casually grabbing a toast from under his brother’s nose. Natsu responds with a giggle of his own even as he swats at Dabi’s hand in fake irritation. Fuyumi rolls her eyes, probably annoyed by either his comment or his antics, or both. With her, it’s often hard to tell.

Since apparently Endeavor's idea of being a better person includes avoiding everyone like a plague, he’s rarely present these days. Admittedly, the man did do a few more things here and there that could pass as ‘trying to be a better parent’ since his announcement of wanting to change – Shouto's training has been cut short completely, Fuyumi got a pat on her hair when she brought home a B from her math test and Dabi didn't get even one word of disapproval when he stepped out of his room in an eleven inches heels one day. (He did get a very pointed glare and a tomato-red face though, so. Hardly a success.) The point is, Endeavor is either very sick or actually took to heart some of what Dabi yelled at him during their fight. Obviously, he’s doing a pretty shitty job, if he truly is aiming for redemption (which Dabi does not believe at all, but okay), but it’s still nice that he makes sure that they can now have pleasant family meals without constant arguments. You know, by not being there.

Or, at least, they would be pleasant if Dabi wasn't so fucking tired.

He puts some more food on his plate as to not worry his mother even though he isn't really that hungry. His eyelids keep trying to close as if made of lead or some shit and it's absolutely infuriating. Before this whole time travel mess he could go without sleep for days, powered only by Monster energy drinks and spite, and now suddenly he's being a baby about it? Pathetic. Shigaraki would never stop laughing at him if he could see him now – but then again, Dabi is still pretty sure his boss must have been some kind of vampire who never slept at all.

While he’s lost in his self-pity, he misses most of the conversation going on around him – must have been something funny since even Fuyumi is smiling – but then Rei is saying his name and he blinks at her, completely clueless about what they’ve been talking about.

"Em, could you say that again?" he asks sheepishly, earning himself some amused chuckles from his siblings and a lot less amused look from his mother.

"I said that we were going out with Fuyumi today and since your father is...,” she makes a meaningful pause, as if thinking of an appropriate word, “...busy, I will need you to take care of Shouto and Natsuo."

The ways she says it is patient and gentle, her smile perfectly polite, but there’s this edge to her voice that leaves no room for discussion. Which obviously isn’t going to stop Dabi from having a discussion.

"What? But why? Can't Mrs. Hataki  watch them?"

"Her daughter is sick, so she can't come today," his mother explains and while it's a totally valid reason, Dabi is still salty.

She is supposed to be their nanny, not him. He’s had plans for today, you know? Not to mention how fucking exhausted he already is – he doesn’t need the added effort of taking care of two hyperactive kids. It’s basically his only free day! Look, he loves his brothers, he really does, but he also knows them. Shouto will probably try to blow up their house if left to his own devices for too long. Natsu could probably be bribed to stay in his room and play his murder games, but there’s still a chance he might get up to some mischief just to piss Dabi off. It’s too much for him in this delicate state. Endeavor is their father – why can’t he take care of them?

(Yeah, okay, he takes that back. He does not want his awful sperm donor nowhere near his brothers, especially alone. But still, you get his point.)

Likely noticing how thrilled Dabi is at the idea of babysitting them, Natsuo pouts at him. "You don't want to spend time with us? I thought you loved us."

Next to Fuyumi, Shouto nods solemnly in agreement. "That's cruel of you, brother."

Ignoring his sister who dares to laugh at his misfortune, Dabi groans and rubs his face. They can't just gang-up on him. That's not fair.

"It's not that I don't want to. I was supposed to see Keigo today, that's all," he mumbles, already knowing they have won. He's simply too weak to resist a pair of puppy eyes and the prospect of disappointing his mother.

"I'm sure your boyfriend will live if he doesn't see you for one day," Fuyumi says dryly, adding a little more sugar to her already monstrously sweet coffee.

"He's not actually my boyfriend," Dabi tries to argue despite knowing it won't work. He can't count how many times he attempted to explain that he and Keigo aren't actually dating, that it’s only a way to annoy Enji, and yet his family just ignores him every single time.

"Regardless of your relationship status, you can survive one day without seeing each other," Rei says with finality, even though she's still attempting to be gentle about it. She’s either a literal angel or a very skilled manipulator. Probably a little of both. "You won't even know when we're back. I'm sure your brothers will not cause any trouble. Right, boys?"

Their responding sharp grins don't bode well for Dabi. In moments like this, he really misses being an only child.

***

"I want ice cream," Shouto announces about half an hour after Rei and Fuyumi leave.

Dabi, who's lounging lazily on a couch, watching the newest episode of Drag Race, does not want ice cream. Especially if getting it involves going out. He's basically melting as he is now, inside and with working air conditioning. He isn't even about to imagine how hot it must be outside. He's about to say as much when he notices the eager look appearing on Natsuo's face, perfectly matching Shouto's hopeful one.

A resigned sigh escapes his mouth. This is when this whole 'trying to be a better person' thing finality bites him in the ass, isn't it? 

"Come on, Touya, let's gooo," Natsuo whines, his puppy eyes doing more damage to Dabi's resolve than any threat ever did.

"We're going to die out there," he protests, although it sounds weak even to his own ears. "I'm swimming in my sweat right now. Do you have any idea how bad it's going to be outside?"

Shouto wrinkles his nose, but doesn't lose the determination in his eyes. "Gross. Don't say things like that. I didn't want to know that."

One of the contestants in his show screams something that almost certainly means Dabi's missing a real good drama right now to have this fascinating conversation. Unfortunately, he can't even confirm that, because his smart brothers decided to bother him while standing exactly in the way of his view of the TV. Sure, he’s not an old man, he can rewatch it later on some streaming service, so he's not actually missing anything, but it just won't be the same.

"Shouto can cool us with his quirk," Natsuo says, sending his younger brother a meaningful look.

A look that the boy seems to ignore without even a hint of hesitation. "No, I can't. Using quirks in public is illegal."

Natsuo groans, pulling at his hair in frustration. "Whose side are you on?!"

"The side of the law," Shouto deadpans, his little arms crossed over his chest.

"You're six! What do you even know about the law?!" Natsuo's face twists into an ugly grimace as he glares at his younger brother.

Dabi decides to do a smart thing and stop them before it can escalate into a proper argument – there isn't enough paracetamol in the house to let him survive that. He lets himself mourn the afternoon he could have had – annoying his favourite birdboy and not having to move - and then he rises from the couch with a very exaggerated sigh.

"Alright, fine," he says, in a way that makes it very clear that he's doing them a huge favour. He levels them with what he hopes is a hard look. "We can go get ice cream." They drop their argument in seconds in order to cheer but Dabi isn't done. "On one condition," he adds, rising a finger. Their faces turn wary and Dabi has to stop himself from grinning. "You have to clean the kitchen first before we go."

This, as expected, ignites a righteous anger in the two boys.

“What?!”

“No way!”

But Dabi isn't moved this time. There’s literally Hell outside and they made him miss gay drama. Some revenge is definitely in order. Dabi might be getting soft these days, but he isn’t a total pushover.

"Oh?” He cocks one eyebrow innocently. “I thought you wanted to go."

"But mum said you were supposed to do that!" Natsuo points out, his eyebrows furrowed and his lips twisted into a pout.

It's true. She did. And Dabi was about to do that after he finished his show, he really was. He isn't above doing chores or anything. But if there is a chance of not having to do them, well, who wouldn't take it?

"Mum also said we were to stay in the house," he responds calmly, enjoying the rush of joy at finally having an upper hand against them. This argument successfully shuts them up and this time Dabi doesn't hide his smug smirk. "This is my only offer. Take it or leave it."

In the end their craving for sweets wins over their laziness and the two boys drag themselves to the kitchen, looking as grim and determined as soldiers preparing to leave for war. Dabi thinks they are being a little too dramatic than strictly necessary. It's only washing dishes and wiping some stains from the table. It likely won't take them more than half an hour.

Dabi sighs again as he lets himself fall back onto the couch, utterly defeated. But, half an hour is half an hour. It should be enough to mentally prepare. He will have to change before they go out – he doesn't think anyone will appreciate the sight of him only in his boxers – but it can wait. He has an episode to finish first.

Or not, he quickly revaluates, when he notices the credits rolling on the screen. He groans again, throwing his head back and rubbing his eyes. It’s really not his lucky day.

***

Sometime later, once the kitchen is clean enough and the nagging starts again, they get ready to leave, proper clothes and all. Any grudge his brothers may have held for him disappears instantly once they're out of the house, both of them too excited to remember to be pissed at him. At first Dabi thinks their enthusiasm is a bit unproportional to the mundaneness of simply going out for ice cream, but then he remembers that for them, leaving the house to do something fun is not mundane at all and spends some minutes inwardly cursing his father.  

Just like he expected, the sun is murderous. It has no right to be this hot. Who invented sun anyway? Dabi wants to have some words. Like, his skin is already gross and clammy and his clothes are sticking to his back in a very uncomfortable way, and it's only been, like, five minutes. He doesn't think he will make it to the city when his entire body is on fire. Some might say he’s being dramatic – since, you know, he actually did have most of his skin burned to a crisp before – but he can swear it doesn't feel all that different.

They walk and as they get closer to the station, dread begins to pool in Dabi’s stomach. The thought of getting onto a train makes him nauseous. Just imagining how much worse it will be, squeezed between a bunch of other people with almost no fresh air available, their sweaty skin sticking to his, the sickening warmth from their bodies seeping through their soaked clothes and into his, all of that almost makes him retch. But their only other option is to walk the entire way and, somehow, it sounds even more like a nightmare.

Why would he agree to this again?      

Oh, yes, because their useless father would never. And Endeavor will not beat him at this game of being a good family member, that's for sure. He might say whatever he wants about redemption, but he’s still the kind of parent whose children have never been out to get ice cream before. And, fuck, Dabi might not be a good or a moral person, but he loves his brothers and seeing them deprived of such ordinary experiences makes his blood boil. If he has to suffer a little to make them happy, then that's what he's going to do. That's the least they deserve.

Most of their walk to the station is silent, with Natsu staring at everything around them with poorly hidden excitement of a kid who's doing something forbidden and Shouto lost in thoughts about something very serious, if his creased forehead is anything to go by. Dabi finds the silence comfortable enough, so he doesn’t force any small talk, letting his thoughts wander. Did you know there are over four hundred ways to kill someone with a fork?

Soon, they arrive at the platform, and the slight coolness of the underground blesses them with a short respite from the scorching heat. Dabi thinks he moans quietly as they walk down the stairs – he swears he can see steam rising from his arms. Some old lady stares at him weirdly and so he does the mature thing anyone in his place would do – he sticks his tongue at her. Natsuo laughs as the woman bristles in offence and starts walking faster. Shouto only observes them, still seemingly thinking about something very intensely.

Only once they’re waiting by the tracks does the small boy finally speak again. "Touya, are you a drag queen?"

This is nowhere near what he expects to hear. Natsuo bursts out laughing immediately, almost choking on his wheezes, while Dabi stands there gaping like an idiot. He stares at his little brother with eyes no doubt wide as saucers, caught completely off guard.

"No," he manages to say after a moment, once his voice is working again. "Why would you think that?"

Shouto frowns, gazing up at them with impatient irritation, as though he can’t understand what's so weird about his question. "Those people in your show, they were drag queens, right? And they were boys wearing clothes for girls. You're a boy and you wear clothes for girls. So you are a drag queen too."

Well, Dabi thinks, still mostly baffled, when he says it like that, it kinda makes sense. If you're six years old and have no understanding of the world you live in, that is.

"I'm not a drag queen," he informs his brother, because what else can he do. Some older man walking past them sends him the most bewildered look, but all of them ignore him.

Look, it’s not that there is anything wrong with being a drag queen. Of course not. He loves drag queens. He used to be friends with some, back on the streets. They helped him pick his first make-up – he pretty much owes them his life. Drag queens fucking rock. They're fabulous and awesome, and funny, and basically amazing in every way.

Dabi just isn't one.

"Maybe you should be," Natsuo suggests cheekily, wiggling his eyebrows, his voice filled with amusement. His eyes are twinkling mischievously, a stark contrast to the detached coldness Dabi could see in them on the scarce pictures he could put his hands on back in the future. It would be such a lovely sight – if only it wasn't directed at him.

Heartless little traitor.

"Oh, yes, I imagine that career choice would go over very well with our dear old man," he snorts, imagining the no doubt explosive reaction. Huh, maybe he should actually consider it. Could be fun and if he’s lucky, who knows, it might finally be enough to ruin Enji's pathetic 'being a good dad' act, and show everyone that men like him never change.

On the other hand, he sucks at singing. And he’s never learnt how to dance. His career as a drag queen would probably be a bust.

“Maybe father can be a drag queen too,” Shouto muses out loud, way too seriously for Dabi’s sanity.

Fortunately, this particular discussion is cut short by the arrival of their train. Maybe the world doesn't hate him that much.

***

Maybe it's not the world at all. Maybe he's just doing it to himself.

"You're smoking?!"

Dabi looks dumbly at the freshly lit cigarette in his hand and then back at his shocked brothers. Natsuo's eyes are wide as saucers, his lips parted slightly. Shouto's expression of shock is just a little crease to his eyebrows but Dabi can almost feel his disapproval.

They have just left the station at their destination – a quiet enough part of town not to risk any trouble that also happens to have the best ice cream parlour Dabi has ever been at – and are now walking slowly towards the main square. The weather here is no less murderous but, as disgusting as that sounds, the sweat on his clothes acts as a sort of a cooling device. His brothers, of course, have none of his issues, both being walking icicles and being completely immune to the power of the sun.  

He didn't even think before taking out a cigarette. He's been craving a smoke all day, but he’s not stupid enough to try it at the house. His mother would kill him if she found out and so he’s been abstaining as much as he could. However, now that he's finally outside, it's just a reflex to take one out and light it. The thought that maybe it isn't the smartest idea to flaunt his addiction in front of his younger siblings didn't even cross his poor nicotine-hungry mind.

"Obviously," he says nonchalantly, because he is an adult and can own up to his mistakes. Most of the time.

He takes a drag to demonstrate how much he doesn't care that they see, but then almost chokes on it when something very important occurs to him. The glare he sends them is, he hopes, threatening enough. "You two better not tell mum."

Natsuo immediately becomes defensive. "I'm not a snitch!"

But from his other brother, there is only silence.

"Shouto?" Dabi urges, calmly but with an edge to his tone he can't quite hide.

The boy bites his lip and stares up at them defiantly. "But the law..."

"Shouto," he insists, now significantly more irritated. Fuck the law is what he doesn’t say. He hopes Shouto hears it anyway. Faced with that stubborn baby face, he thinks he’s starting to remember why he was planning to get rid of his youngest brother too.

"Underage smoking is illegal." Shouto maintains, crossing his arms. "Do you want to go to jail, Touya?"

"Do you want your ice cream or not?" Dabi challenges, reaching for big guns. Sometimes you have to be cruel – that’s just how this world works. He takes a moment to despair over his slowly burning cigarette that gets shorter and shorter with every second he's having this conversation and not, you know, smoking it. Does Shouto even know how hard it is to steal a pack as often as he needs them?

His thinly veiled threat of depriving them of ice cream isn't taken well. Which is exactly what he’s going for. One point for Dabi, zero for Shouto. Minus one for the law. Life is good.  

"That's not fair," Shouto mumbles, finally realizing how powerless his status as a toddler truly makes him.

Dabi tries not to grin too smugly. "Life isn't fair, my dear brother. Now, swear to stay silent or suffer the consequences. It's your choice."

Shouto pouts but relents without any more smartass comments. "Fine."

"Good boy," Dabi says, ruffling the boy’s hair and finally, finally bringing the half-burnt cigarette to his lips.

The bitter toxins on his tongue taste a lot like victory.

***

The ice cream place doesn't have any of Dabi's favourite flavours – which, very homophobic of them – but they do have Shouto's favourite, so it's not all a waste. Dabi pays for their desserts with Endeavor’s credit card, allowing the boys to each get an outrageous number of scoops, which is definitely not good for their teeth but excellent for their moods. After they acquire what they came for, they end up sitting on a nice bench at the nice nearby park, devouring the quickly melting sweets and enjoying the calm afternoon.

“We should go out more often,” Dabi says at some point, which is probably his first major mistake. But the sun is now pleasantly warm instead of scorching, and the soft wind is ruffling their hair, making the air around them smell like summer, and his brothers’ faces are bright with delight, and, for a moment, he can’t remember why he was so against this excursion in the first place.   

“I bet Fuyumi will be so jealous when she finds out we got ice cream without her,” Natsuo snickers, shamelessly licking the melting ice cream off his fingers. His legs are dangling happily back and forth, as if his excitement is too great to be able to sit still, and there are dimples forming in his cheeks from smiling. Dabi has never noticed them before.

“That’s why she won’t find out,” he says pointedly, sending his brother a stern look. The last thing he needs is Fuyumi getting even more pissed at him.

“Mum says it’s bad to lie,” Shouto protests, not even glancing at any of them. Instead, he seems to be trying to sneakily use his quirk to keep his own ice cream solid. As of now, he mainly succeeds in getting chocolate stains all over his face.

So much for the law, Dabi snorts to himself.

“Mum will take away your dessert privileges for a week if she finds out we snuck out without permission,” he retorts, taking the last bite of his sweet cone. Still in the middle of chewing, because he’s gross, he adds, “If anyone asks, we spent the day watching TV and playing hide and seek. We were never out. Understood?”  

Reluctantly, his brothers nod.

Naturally, that’s when the first explosion happens.

At first, it’s hard to say what’s the cause of it. Whatever it is though, it can’t be good. Panicked screams can be heard from somewhere on the other side of the park and soon, there’s smoke raising lazily from behind the trees. A few people run by them, their faces pale and twisted in terror. The second explosion follows soon after the first one, this one much louder.

Closer.

Immediately, Dabi sits up straighter, eyes scanning their surroundings for any sign of the threat. His hand instinctively travels down to his thigh where there would normally be his knife, but of course, there’s only the fabric of his black linen pants.    

"Shit," he mutters to himself, heart already speeding up. That’s really just his luck, huh?

It must be a villain attack. He knows enough about the world to figure that out, even if he can’t see the perpetrator yet. Normally, he wouldn’t really care. Those attacks happen often enough to become just another inconvenience. But that’s when he’s alone. He’s not alone right now.

The world seems to come to a stop for a moment. Everything around him fades to grey, other than this one urgent thought – he has to keep his brothers safe. There’s nothing else more important right now.   

Another explosion happens, this one ever closer. They really need to run.

"Come on," he hisses to his stunned brothers, grabbing their wrists and pulling them after him as he begins to run away from the commotion. The park becomes desolate in an instant, with dead silence ringing prominently between explosions and occasional shrieks. Natsuo and Shouto are both too scared to protest, so they follow him without a word, Natsuo's quickened breath the only sound breaking the quiet.  

It's a habit to keep turning his head to sneak a look at what happens behind him, to make sure he isn't being chased or at least that he's far ahead of his opponent. The first few times, he sees nothing out of the ordinary – unmoving trees, abandoned benches, empty paths. He speeds up nonetheless. He can feel his brothers struggle, he knows they are not as used to running from danger as he is, but his legs refuse to slow down, driven by some blind panic. He can’t allow them to get hurt. He can’t.

The next time he sneaks a glance back, it’s not only an empty park behind him anymore. A little girl, maybe eight or nine years old, runs out from behind a large bush, crying and screaming in terror. And something is chasing after her.

"Fuck," Dabi swears with feeling, clenching his hands tighter around his brothers' wrists, and doesn’t stop running. Everything in him itches to turn around and help, to protect this innocent kid, but he can't abandon his brothers. They are his first priority, always, no matter how soft he has gotten while doing this whole vigilante gig.

And hell, they are in the middle of the city. This isn't some shady district full of shady people that nobody cares about. Heroes must already be on their way, right? He isn't needed here. What he needs to do is make sure his family is safe, even if it means someone else has to get hurt. That's the cruel reality of life.

Somehow, despite the logical part of his brain yelling that at him over and over again, he can't quite force himself to believe that.

The girl screams again, even more frightened and like she’s hurting, and Dabi's heart squeezes painfully, but his legs don't slow down and he doesn’t look back this time. They are almost out of the park, almost safe. It's just a few more steps.

Suddenly, his brothers halt, yanking on Dabi’s hands and forcing him to stop too. He looks down at them, confused, frustrated and so, so scared, more than he ever remembers being.

"What?" he snaps at them, not even sure who he’s angry at – them, that damn villain or himself.

"Touya," is all Shouto says, face deadly serious, tugging at his arm forcefully and pointing back to what Dabi really doesn’t want to see.

But he does look. And there she is, the little girl, not much older than Shouto himself, brown hair in disarray and face wet from tears, running towards them wildly, tripping at every other step, a horrifying figure right behind her, laughing maniacally, sharp teeth bared and ready to strike.

The villain isn't someone Dabi has ever seen before. They look to be in their thirties, probably female, tall and lean but not overly muscled. They definitely rely on their quirk and not physical strength. Their long dark hair is a messy nest of tangles, like it’s never been brushed in the person’s entire life. They have long fangs sticking out of their wide mouth and even longer claws, and blood is dripping from both of these. But it isn't what's truly scary about them.

It's the lack of humanity in their eyes – only violent, feral bloodlust.

"We have to go," he says through gritted teeth and pulls on his brothers' hands harsher but while Natsuo is too terrified to argue, Shouto doesn't move.

"We can't leave her," the boy insist firmly, even though his voice trembles the slightest bit. His breath is quickened and his grip on Dabi is white-knuckled, but it’s clear he isn’t going to budge.  

Dabi understands now why everyone always said Shouto was born to be a hero. It’s something in his eyes. It’s something Dabi could never truly replicate. Any other time, he might even be proud of his little brother. Right now, he's just furious.

The villain chooses this moment to catch up with the girl, just a few feet from where they're standing. She screams as she falls to the ground harshly, the person pouncing on her instantly. She struggles to get out of her attacker's grip, sobbing and panting, put to no avail. The villain grins down at her, widely enough to resemble the Cheshire cat, and slowly leans forward, ready to bury their teeth in the child's throat.

"Fuck," Dabi repeats, closing his eyes for a second and regretting ever leaving the house today. Decision made for him, he pushes his brothers towards the nearest bush, hoping they get the message and hide. "Don't move, is that clear? Stay here until it's over."

He's moving before they can nod their confirmation. He can't believe he's really doing this. Everything in his mind protests leaving his brothers alone, but his body doesn't need his orders to do what has to be done - by now it's almost natural, pure muscle memory. Moving faster than he thought himself possible, he closes the distance between them, grabs the bad guy by their collar and hauls them off the struggling child before they can sink their disgusting fangs into her neck.

The villain sneers at the interruption, taking no time to get back on their feet. Still, the few seconds of distraction are enough for the girl to push herself up and run, so Dabi isn't about to complain. He grins at the villain, probably matching their crazed look well enough – he’s really pissed, okay – and it catches them off guard long enough for Dabi to get close to them again.

He kicks at their legs, but they easily avoid it and respond with a slash of their sharp nails. He manages to duck and immediately follows with another kick, suddenly reminded of his fight with Kaneko. The villain’s quirk seems to be something similar, maybe a lion mutation or a tiger. Judging by the awful hair, most likely a lion. But, he reminds himself, this time it isn't a mostly harmless classmate he's fighting – it's someone who would hurt his brothers without hesitation. He can’t half-ass it. This bitch is going down.

He just wishes he had some weapon on him.

Not for the first time he curses the idiotic rules about quirk use. His fist collides with the villain’s nose, somehow, but it does nothing to slow them down. For now, their attention is solely on him, either exhilarated by the challenge or furious about the interruption, but it could change at any moment and then his brothers might be in danger. If only he could use his fire... But he’s not that stupid. It’s an unnecessary risk. He’s doing fine without it. He grunts, dodging another one of their attacks and immediately issuing his own. He just has to keep them busy until the heroes fucking get here.

And then, he slips. Later, he won’t be sure if he missed a cue or was simply overwhelmed by their brute strength, but nevertheless, he makes his second major mistake. In the short moment that he’s distracted, their claws slash all the way through his chest and holy shit, it hurts.

(Somewhere in the back of his mind, he realizes that the villain is probably under the influence of some quirk-enhancing drug, to be able to move like that. It would explain the craziness in their eyes. The knowledge does nothing to help his situation.)

A pained hiss escapes his mouth as blood starts soaking through his clothes. The cuts aren’t that deep, but they’re definitely inconvenient and the force behind the hit still makes him stagger back. The villain laughs, preparing what they must think will the their final strike. But it’s fine, Dabi’s fine, he’s had worse, he can keep fighting. It’s just a scratch, nothing serious—

“Touya!” he hears two twin alarmed cries and his eyes widen on their own accord, a freezing hand of raw fear gripping his heart. As if in slow motion, he turns his head back and, sure enough, there they are. His stupid idiotic brothers, running towards him with worry written all over their baby faces.

Still in slow motion, his eyes dart back to the villain, whose attention has wholly shifted to the two boys. Their creepy smile widens in inhuman hunger and the look they level them with is full of murderous bloodlust, and then they’re taking a step forward, getting closer to them, they’re about to hurt them, they can’t hurt them, he won’t let them—

They move to attack and Dabi sees red.

He’s barely aware of what he’s doing. One moment he’s standing there uselessly and next thing he knows, he’s in the villain’s face, yanking on their hair and setting his quirk fully free for the first time since he arrived in the past.

And just like that, they’re screaming. Shrieking, flailing frantically and falling to the ground, and convulsing, and screaming some more, and Dabi is laughing and they’re on fire, and he’s on fire too but only they are feeling the pain. The awful smell of burning hair and boiling meat hits his nose with such an overwhelming wave of familiarity he has to stop himself from laughing – or perhaps crying. He’s panting as he looks at them writhe, desperately looking around, are his brothers okay? did he manage to save them? And then he sees them, safe and unhurt, but staring at him in shock mixed with fear, and Dabi has to blink to clear his mind. The villain stops screaming at the same time they stop moving and, finally, Dabi deactivates his quirk. The silence around them is deafening.

Naturally, this is the moment the heroes finally decide to arrive.

Chapter Text

"Is this really necessary?" Dabi asks with annoyance as a pair of metal cuffs clicks shut around his wrists. They aren't painfully tight or anything, although they are startingly cold, and really, isn’t the reaction a little exaggerated for some teeny tiny bit of burning?

The two policemen tasked with restraining him exchange the kind of look that Dabi very much does not appreciate. Their expressions are stiff and professional, but the underlying distaste would be obvious to anyone with half a brain.  

Lips pursed in disapproval, the taller of the two says, very slowly, "You were caught trying to burn someone alive.” He makes sure to accentuate each word, like he thinks Dabi is stupid. “So, yes, it is necessary."

"I was protecting my brothers," he mutters in protest, probably for a hundredth time, not even expecting them to listen at this point. He’s not sure why he even bothers. It’s obvious nobody cares what he has to say – they already decided what must have happened from what little they saw when they arrived and no words are about to change their minds. That’s how cops always are.  Self-righteous bastards.

Frankly, it’s ridiculous. Yes, he did break the law by using his quirk and, sure, maybe he didn’t necessarily have to burn the villain that much, but they were going to kill that little girl. And once they were done with her, they would move to everyone else around them – including Dabi’s family. Why is he being treated like a criminal here?

Well, he knows why. It’s because the authorities are fucking prejudiced. If Endeavor cooked that fucker, everyone would be cheering. He would probably be praised left and right for his incredible bravery or whatever. But since Dabi is a ‘kid’ and apparently looks like a 'delinquent' – Enji's words, not his – and since his loose tank top does nothing to cover the impressive number of old bruises (and also his tattoo), all he gets is a trip to the police station.

At least they had enough decency to stop by an ambulance to have his cuts cleaned and bandaged before they handcuffed him.

All the while, there’s a funny thought echoing through his head, threatening to make him laugh out loud – although it wouldn’t be a nice laugh. A bitter realization that, somehow, he has spent years murdering people, setting shit on fire and generally being a menace, and yet the reason he’s finally getting arrested is because he actually tried to save someone. 

Hawks would never let him live it down. Nor would Shigaraki, for that matter.

"Whether that's true or not," the other officer says with little to no emotion, grabbing Dabi’s arm and forcing him to stand straighter, "unlicensed quirk usage is illegal. You should have waited for the heroes."

And, like, seriously, what’s with law people and their screwed perception of how the world works? Can they really not see how stupid this 'advice' is? Or are they only saying this because they have no other excuse?

"Oh, yeah, obviously," he drawls sarcastically, hoping to convey very clearly how unimpressed he is. "Next time we get attacked by some psycho, I will stand by and watch my brothers get murdered even if I’m perfectly capable of protecting them. Wouldn’t want to do anything illegal, after all. Thanks, officer. You’ve just made me a better citizen."

They respond something to that, Dabi thinks, but he’s already stopped listening. Knowing pigs, it probably wasn’t anything intelligent – from his observations, most of them got donuts where their brains should be. The shorter guy’s grip on him tightens uncomfortably as they realize he’s ignoring them, but he barely pays it any mind. What’s a few more bruises gonna do when he’s already covered in them? Instead, he tries to take a peek at the pair of heroes – some low-ranked duo he doesn’t recognize – struggling to restrain the unconscious villain. The lost expressions on their faces, partly covered by tacky masks, are pretty entertaining, definitely more than another pointless conversation with his captors. The pair is hovering uncertainly over the villain, quirk-supressing cuffs dangling from the woman’s hands, likely wondering if putting them on the person is even necessary, considering all of those third degree burns covering about half of their body.

The sight of his beautiful work causes a smug smirk to spread on Dabi’s lips. He half-heartedly attempts to hide it, but, judging by the officers' disapproving frowns, he isn't doing a very good job. Oh, well. They already think he’s crazy anyway. He’s not going to deprive himself of this joy just to appease their delicate sensibilities. He really missed using his quirk, okay? Stab wounds just aren't the same.

His amusement is, unfortunately, short-lived. A familiar voice shouts his name and his head immediately snaps towards the source of it, muscles tensing as though readying for a fight. There, he catches a sight of some other officer, a young woman, leading his brothers to a police car waiting nearby. They seem much less scared now that the villain is gone and much more angry, as evidenced by Natsuo visibly arguing with the police lady about something. Meanwhile, his youngest brother has noticed him and is now tugging on Natsuo’s sleeve and pointing in Dabi’s direction, urgently repeating his name.  Both boys appear incredibly frustrated when the officer only shakes her head and urges them to follow her, not even sparing Dabi a glance.

(Where is your love for the law now, Shouto? Dabi thinks bitterly. He realizes it’s probably a good time to have a nice ACAB conversation with his siblings. When he’s out of jail, that is.) 

"Where are you taking them?" he demands angrily, tugging at the cuffs in pure frustration.

He’s supposed to be with them now, making sure they’re alright after what must have been a pretty traumatizing experience. Not kept on a leash like a rabid dog. He promised Rei he would take care of them and what has he done instead? Put their lives in danger, probably gave them nightmares for months and now he’s abandoning them when they're being taken who knows where, terrified and all alone. Great big brother moment, everyone.

The officer holding him squeezes his arms even tighter to stop his resisting, now definitely giving him bruises, and then yanks him closer, resulting in Dabi almost tripping and falling. He only manages to stay upright because of the man’s grip steading him. The action is not only painful, but also fucking humiliating. Dabi has to stifle a growl. The urge to punch the asshole grows in him with every passing second.

"No funny business," the policeman snaps threateningly, some of his spit landing on Dabi’s cheek. His sneering face could even be considered attractive if he wasn’t such a dick. Alas, Dabi grimaces in disgust and wishes really hard he could use his quirk. The man would be even prettier with a bit... darker complexion, if you know what he means.

Huh. Maybe the cuffs were necessary, after all. 

"Your brothers are fine,” the other policeman informs him placatingly, eyeing his partner pointedly. The shorter officer grunts something under his nose, but his grip on Dabi loosens. Seems like at least one of them is not a fan of police brutality. At least not in pubic, anyway. Good to know.  “They are a bit shaken, but otherwise not injured. We're just taking them to the station so your parents can come get them."

If the man expects Dabi to be grateful for basic human decency, he has another thing coming. As far as Dabi’s concerned, these guys are total bastards. To them, Dabi is a teenager who just had a traumatizing encounter with a dangerous villain and whose brothers almost got killed, and yet they’re treating him like shit. He has no respect for them and definitely isn’t going to thank them for doing the bare minimum. But he doesn't want to get beaten up or whatever else happens to rude suspects in police cars, so he nods and, for once, doesn't offer any snarky comments.

"Right, in this chaos we forgot to ask," the same officer continues, suddenly perking up. He crosses his arms and faces Dabi with a strict expression. "What's your name, kid?"

Oooh. Right. This should be fun.

Not gonna lie, Dabi really enjoys the way his ensuing sharp grin makes the officers shift uneasily. Fucking serves them right.

"Touya," he says nonchalantly, feeling almost like James Bond or something when he adds, after a dramatic pause, "Todoroki Touya."

The two heroes, who must have finished dealing with the villain and have handed him over to the medical staff, choose this moment to shout that they're ready to depart and that they’re leaving the rest to the police.

Dabi pretends he doesn't notice how both of the officers pale dramatically.

***

They don't beat him up on the way, which he counts as a win, and then when they arrive at the station he's quickly ushered into the nearest interrogation room, while someone promises to call his family. He grimaces, not very eager to face his mother's disappointment – or worse, what if she hears what he’s done and is scared of him? – but he tries to look at the bright side. No doubt Endeavor’s going to be furious about this.

Despite the officer’s assurances, he's still slightly worried about his brothers, but he does see them briefly on the way, sitting on a couch and playing with some weird toys, seemingly unhurt, so he doesn't let it overwhelm him. He hates the fact that they have to see him handcuffed like some common thug though. But before he can get too concerned about that, Natsuo looks up to meet his gaze and his entire face brightens immediately. He discards the toys without a second thought and jumps to his feet, clearly about to run up to Dabi and demand his release – his brother is sweet like that – but is stopped by the same female officer that was escorting them earlier before he can even take the first step. Shouto just sits there, face as blank as ever, but nods along as Natsuo argues heatedly with the woman. Unfortunately, Dabi doesn’t get to see what happens later, because he’s pushed forward by the asshole still holding him in a vice grip and soon his brothers disappear from his sight. 

Still, the short interaction helps to relieve most of his worries. He should probably be more concerned about this whole 'illegal quirk use' thing and being a criminal again and, you know, getting expelled or going to jail, but he has trouble believing Endeavor would ever let that happen. It would tarnish his well-cultivated image of a perfect family and that’s not something his father would allow. If only because of that, he will do whatever it takes to get Dabi out of this mess without so much as a warning, and Dabi is going to shamelessly take advantage of his father’s selfishness.

About ten very boring minutes pass before the door to the room opens again and Dabi spends this time drumming a mindless melody against the metal table. The room he’s in is bare except for this table, a pair of chairs and a small lamp dangling sadly from the ceiling. The chair is cold and digging uncomfortably into his back and the artificial light is making his eyes hurt. One of the walls seems to be almost entirely covered by a large mirror, which he assumes is the one-way kind they use in movies to secretly watch the suspect. At least with that he can pass the time by admiring his reflection, but the sight of himself cuffed to an ugly table is not as satisfying as he would have imagined.

When they’re finally done with trying to bore him to death and someone decides to come in, Dabi glances up with perfectly sculpted disinterest, one eyebrow raised challengingly and posture fully relaxed. He’s expecting to see one of the officers from earlier or maybe some other poor policeman they decided to assign to him. He is definitely not expecting Eraserhead.

Well, fuck.

The man is wearing his usual unimpressed expression, but his signature white scarf is missing and he has his usually messy hair styled into a low ponytail. In his hands there’s a thin brown file, most likely detailing today’s events. The way he moves through the room casually speaks of familiarity – he must be here a lot. He also looks like he hasn’t slept in ages – his back is hunched and the bags under his eyes are so dark they could easily be mistaken for some sort of edgy goth makeup – but his stare is as sharp as ever. As is the clearly visible amusement in it.

Fuck indeed.

"A reckless teenager using his blue fire quirk to illegally fight criminals," the man says as he saunters over to the table, putting one hand down on it and leaning in. "Sounds familiar to you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," he replies stiffly, trying very hard not to glare at the hero.

It’s not like he expects the man to fall for it. Eraser might be an annoying pain in the ass, but he’s not dumb. Plus, the man has seen his face before, so there’s really no point in pretending. But what else can he do? Admit to even more crimes when he’s already in deep shit doesn’t sound like the smartest idea. Denying everything is as good of a strategy as any.

"Oh, you don't? And I'm sure you don't recognize this?"

Eraser pulls out a very familiar phone, then shakes it a little as if to show it off properly, raising an eyebrow in fake disbelief. Dabi stays stubbornly silent, mostly because he just doesn't know what to say. Lying would be pointless, but speaking would mean having to admit the truth. He concludes it’s better not to talk at all. Which is not a conclusion he comes to often.  

Eraser sighs, leaning back and straightening himself. He doesn’t take the other chair though, simply choosing to stand next to it, arms crossed. "Oh, come on, usually you're so much more talkative."

Dabi blinks up at him innocently. "I believe that's a phone, sir."

Eraser snorts. "Stop that. It's creepy to hear you sound so respectful."

Normally, he would continue with the act if only to mess with the hero. But right now Dabi is angry and tired, and not in the mood for games. He just wants to get out of here and he also wants his phone back.

"Alright, let me try again. Give me back my phone and fuck off," he says, letting some irritation bleed into his tone, and then tilts his head, smiling politely. "Better?"

Eraser pinches his nose, looking pained. Instead of following Dabi’s request, he pockets the phone away. "I can't give it to you now. They would find it and probably take it away, and then your secret would be out. You don’t want that, do you? You’re in enough trouble as it is.” He pauses, as if giving Dabi time to protest. However, Dabi is not an idiot and can see his point, so he stays quiet. “I will give it back the next time we see each other. Which I assume will be soon, since I know you have no self-preservation instincts."

Dabi’s grin widens. "Thanks."

They're both silent for a moment, Eraser hoovering over him and still refusing to sit, while Dabi continues drumming his mindless song against the table. For a moment, Dabi wonders if anyone is watching them from behind that mirror. They must be having the worst second-hand embarrassment moment right now if they do. Dabi could throw some witty comment to break the awkward silence, but Eraser clearly has something particular he wants to say. It just seems like he’s not sure whether he should.

Finally though, the man clears his throat uncomfortably. "To be honest, Touya Todoroki was the last person I would expect to be Dabi’s civilian identity. But I guess it makes sense, now that I think about it."

Dabi snorts, although without humour. Here it is then. The illusion shatters. Heroes disappoint once again, episode 2137. "Does it? It must be embarrassing. All this time, you were so sure my parents were some abusive assholes."

Only, Eraser doesn’t smile. He doesn’t shake his head and say Yeah, how stupid could I be? Of course Endeavor would never do that. Instead, his face turns oddly serious. Instead, he says, "I still think that.”

"What?" Dabi says dumbly before he can stop himself, blinking like an idiot. He must have misheard. Surely Eraser can’t mean that? Is he making fun of Dabi? Does he think this is funny? Involuntarily, he can feel his face twist into a sneer. "He's a hero. He’s the precious Number Two. Surely someone like that would never abuse his children. Someone like that can’t be a bad father."

The man shrugs, as if accusing the Number Two of child abuse wasn't a big deal to him. He doesn’t raise to the bait and he keeps his cool, even against Dabi’s harsh tone. His expression softens through it though and there’s something in his eyes that could almost be sadness. Dabi has to fight the instinct to look away.

"Is that what everyone told you?"

Dabi doesn't answer, but he doesn't feel like he has to. There could only be one reason for such bitterness. Young or not, Eraser must know what their society is like, so he accepts his silence without prying and continues with the same gentle indifference.

"I’ve never liked Endeavor. He's always been too violent with his arrests, but no one ever cared enough to do anything about it because he's so efficient." Eraser grimaces, like he's genuinely disgusted by the people who would allow that. He seems to be unaware how deep of an effect his words have on Dabi’s fragile mental stability. "I have no issue believing his violence could extend to his family as well. Especially with his infamous temper. The rest matches too, what you told me about no one believing you when you tried to say something, the police dismissing your accusations as a joke. I regret to say I understand why now.."

This is... the last thing Dabi expects to hear. He isn't quite sure what to do about that. What can he do? It’s not like it matters anymore. Sure, it's nice that Eraser, an actual hero, seems to actually believe him. Shockingly nice, even. But the unexpected warmth is too tainted with bitterness to mean anything. Where was Eraser during his real childhood, when he needed someone like him oh so desperately? When all he longed for was one person who would take him seriously? Who would do something to save them, to help them, be brave enough to stand up to someone as powerful as Endeavor? Where was he then, when it could have made all the difference?

Now, it doesn't change anything, not really. He appreciates being believed, of course he does, but Dabi doesn't need Eraser’s help anymore. Not like he did all those years before.

"Well, congrats on not being a blind idiot, I guess," he mutters, although there's not much bite to it. "Want a reward for that?"

Eraser winces, which, good. Least he can do is be aware of how shitty the system he serves is. "I’m sorry people didn’t believe you. It should have never happened. I understand how, after those experiences, it might be hard for you to trust me. But I promise I really want to help you."

"You can start with getting me out of here then," Dabi replies swiftly, seeing a chance to change the subject and eagerly jumping at it. He doesn't miss the way Eraser purses his lips in frustration, but the man must know him well enough by now to realize he won't get anywhere by forcing the issue. Counting it as a win, he leans back on the metal chair – as much as the cuffs will allow it – and sends the man a challenging smirk.

Eraser sighs and mutters something under his breath, something that sounds a lot like a prayer. His eyes travel down to the file he’s still holding. Something there seems to catch his attention, because he opens his mouth as if to say something, when suddenly, somewhere in the distance people start shouting. At first, they both tense, suspecting an attack, and Dabi has a fleeting thought of trying to burn through the cuffs before he remembers they’re the quirk-restraining kind. But the longer the shouting goes on, the more it sounds like yells of anger, not fear. And one voice is clearly louder, more powerful and much more familiar than any of the others.

Ah. Daddy's here.

Dabi's grin widens. "Or not. I guess old man's got it covered."

Eraser’s forehead creases as a flash of barely contained frustration passes through his face. "Touya—"

But what exactly the man intends to say will forever remain a secret, because he’s promptly interrupted by the door to the room banging open. The action is so violent that it’s a miracle the door doesn’t immediately fall off its hinges. Eraser flinches slightly in surprise at the sudden noise, shooting an annoyed glare at the intruders streaming inside, but doesn’t move from where he’s standing. Dabi leans a little further into his chair, a small smirk stretching on his lips, preparing to watch the inevitable disaster. It’s really too bad they don’t seem to serve popcorn here.

The intruders barging inside include two officers – the nicer one of the pair that made his arrest and some woman he doesn't recognize – both frowning and speaking sternly as they attempt to calm down the third figure – daddy dearest himself. All three of them are in the middle of a heated argument – although the police people at least try to keep their tone in check. Endeavor does not bother. His voice is sharp and booming, and the way he towers over everyone in the room by at least a head only adds to his advantage. The call must have caught him during a patrol, because he's wearing his full hero costume, flames and all. His raging fury causes the temperature in the room to rise abruptly, bordering on unbearable, and the aura of unyielding power he has around himself is just as intimidating as always.

“—I’m telling you, sir, you can’t just come in here like that! There are procedures—!”

“I do not care about your procedures, officer. I want to see my son.”

“Of course, but you really should call a lawyer first—”

“A lawyer?” Endeavor scoffs, looking insulted at the mere idea. “You must be joking. There is no need for that. You police types are always blowing things out of proportion.”

“Mr. Endeavor, this is a serious matter—”

“I’m sure,” Endeavor cuts the man off, his voice more than a little dismissive. “Let us not waste any more time. Ask your questions if you must, but then I am taking Touya home.”

“I really don’t think you understand what’s happening here—"

But Endeavor clearly isn’t listening to the woman anymore. Instead, the man’s gaze finally focuses on Dabi, for the first time since entering the room. The attention is on him for only a few seconds before his father is back to his argument, but it's enough for him to notice a storm of various conflicting emotions in the man’s eyes. Anger, definitely, frustration, obviously, but also something suspiciously like fear. It’s... disconcerting, when his father does things Dabi does not expect from him. He would have thought the yelling would be directed at him – not for him.

Still, weird emotions aside, Endeavor is undoubtedly furious and Dabi wouldn't be himself if he wasn't difficult. Unbothered by the harsh greeting – or lack thereof – Dabi waves at his father cheerily, smirk glued to his face.

Naturally, the man doesn’t like that.

"You!” Enji snarls, his piercing glare now solely on Dabi. He’s so angry his body seems to be vibrating, flames around him flickering wildly. The cops have to fan themselves to fight off the waves of heat, but sweat glistens on their foreheads anyway. “Do you have any idea how stupid what you did was?! There really must be something wrong with you, if you find any of this amusing."

Then, he actually turns his back to Dabi and continues to shout at the poor cops. The ugly grimace twists the scar on his face into something truly grotesque as he points at Dabi’s cuffed hands. "And you! What is the meaning of this? He is a teenager, not a criminal. This is no way to treat a child—"

"He was using his quirk without a license to hurt someone! It's illegal!" the policewoman shouts back, sounding like this isn't the first time she had to say that. “That makes him a criminal!”

"From what I was told, he was fighting the villain to save his brothers. Surely this does not require an arrest."

"Mr. Endeavor, the victim's burns are said to be severe enough to most likely require skin transplantation!” the other officer informs him, visibly exasperated. “This isn't just some minor quirk use! It's bordering on villainl—"

"The victim you speak of," Endeavor interrupts, the freezing coldness of his voice in sharp contrast to the rising heat of the room, "tried to murder my children. Touya saved them and possibly many others. So you’d better think before you say anything else you might regret, officer."

The man fumbles for a moment, but then sighs and attempts to level his voice, as if reasoning with Endeavor had any chance of working. "Your son wasn't coming with us willingly. We had no other choice than to bring him in using force."

Endeavor huffs. "It is a weak excuse, officer. You admit you were unable to deal with one teenager and the only option you had was to handcuff him to a table? Frankly, I think this is all just unnecessary. Let him go and we can all forget this whole thing ever happened."

For once, Dabi wholeheartedly agrees with something coming out of Endeavor’s mouth. It’s such a rare occurrence that it should probably be made into a national holiday. His father, saying something smart? Unheard of. A true miracle. Alas, he would rather kill himself than admit it out loud, so he settles for reminding everyone that he's still in the room instead.

"Not gonna work, I already told them all of that," he drawls, waving a dismissive hand. "Unless of course it means something else coming from his mouth." 

"For once, just shut up, Touya" Endeavor growls, lowly, dangerously. His nostrils inflate, his fingers twitch, the vein on his forehead pulses angrily and, oh, how he wishes the man would do something. How ironic would it be if his father snapped now, showed his true colours in front of all these people? Just one slap. One blast of fire. Anything. Just to prove to everyone that Dabi wasn’t lying. That their precious Number Two is not as perfect as he makes himself to be. That he’s unable to change, no matter what he claims.

Is that so much to ask?

His father does not snap, unfortunately, but he continues to glare at him and Dabi doesn't shy away from it. He meets the man’s gaze head on, hoping that the challenge in his own eyes is clear enough. And, judging by the red creeping up dear Enji’s face, it is.   

He is aware that antagonizing Endeavor right now might not be such a great idea, considering how he's, you know, locked in an enclosed space, handcuffed and with no way to protect himself, not to mention alone, except for a handful of people who probably wouldn't mind seeing him harmed. Except for Eraser, he guesses, who’s still here for some reason. But it’s just so tempting he can’t quite help himself. Dabi has always been prone to taking stupid risks. It’s how he keeps the thrill in his life.  

Speaking of Eraser, he seems, unsurprisingly, wholly unimpressed with both Dabi's attitude and Endeavor's petty shouting match with the officers. So far, he has not given any indication of his presence and, somehow, managed to remain unnoticed. But the limits of his tolerance for bullshit must have been reached, because he finally shifts in his place, crossing his arms.

"If you could all just stop shouting, maybe we would actually be able to come to some conclusions," he cuts in, voice steady and bored. The argument immediately stops as everyone's eyes land on him, all similarly baffled. By now, Dabi knows Eraser enough to see that the man is enjoying catching them off guard like that, even if to the rest of them he most likely appears completely unaffected. He doesn’t so much as blink under Endeavor’s suspicious glare.

"Eraserhead," the garbage man grunts with a poorly hidden disdain. "I was not expecting you here."

"And yet here I am," Eraser answers swiftly, keeping his own voice reasonably civil. This must be what they mean but this whole ‘being the bigger person thing’. In Dabi’s opinion, it sucks. He would prefer to see Eraser go off at his father instead. But the hero is, sadly, not interested in a fight and so he continues with the same stern civility, "If we could focus on the problem at hand, I believe you won't have to see me for much longer."

Endeavor keeps on glaring until he realizes Eraser is not fazed by him at all. After what feels like an eternity of uncomfortable silence, he bristles and grunts out a petulant, "Fine."

Dabi takes a moment to wonder about the history between these two. The hostility they seem to be holding for each other is not something that can be caused solely by bad first impressions. So what was it that made them dislike each other so much? Was Eraser not saying the whole truth when he explained his reasoning for why he believed Dabi about Endeavor being an abuser? Was there something bigger there he wasn't aware of?

He makes a note to dig into that later, preferably when he isn't being faced with jail time.

"As already stated,” Eraser says, turning his attention to the very confused officers, “Touya here was clearly acting in defence of not only the girl who was attacked but also two of his younger brothers. The force used was, admittedly, a little excessive." Here. the hero sends Dabi a pointed look, but if he expects him to feel any remorse for that bitch, he’s about to be sorely disappointed. They were dead the moment they put their eyes on his family. "But I think we can all agree it is understandable that someone so young wouldn't be able to fully control their quirk in such stressful circumstances. Moreover, Touya is a hero-course student close to obtaining his provisional license. I don't find it unusual that he would take action instead of waiting for help and risk someone getting hurt."

"Even so, he still broke the law," the woman speaks, sounding more and more frustrated. "All of these circumstances will of course be considered when deciding on any further action but we can't just let him go."

"But it does not have to go anywhere further, does it?” Endeavor cuts in, his chin raised arrogantly. “Would you really ruin my son’s life just because he tried to save someone else’s?”

The officers exchange a look then, and there is a quick flash of hesitation there. Dabi has no delusions that their uncertainty has anything to do with his well-being – likely, they just don’t want to piss Endeavor off. The two engage in some silent conversation for a while before any of them speaks again, but even once they’re done it's unclear whether they reached any conclusions.

Dabi would appreciate it if they could hurry up. He’s bored, his hands are getting cramped, the chair is fucking uncomfortable and the wound on his chest stings like a bitch. He just wants to go home and sleep for the next three days. Not to mention that the way Endeavor is staring at all of his exposed bruises is giving him creeps. Is the man jealous that it wasn’t him who put them there?

"We would like to ask Touya some questions first before we decide on anything.” There’s an awkward moment when the officer glances down and realizes there’s only one empty chair and four of them standing, but he just clears his throat and goes on without commenting on it, “That is, if you agree, Mr. Endeavor. Normally, we would have a lawyer present for that, but...”

“That will not be necessary,” Endeavor insist, with the confidence of someone who’s never been defied before. “Ask your questions and let us be done with this farce.”

The officers exchange a quick glance again, clearly at a loss for how to deal with someone like Endeavor. Yeah, Dabi thinks sardonically, welcome to the club. Apparently deciding that the best course of action is to simply ignore him, the male officer takes the chair in front of Dabi, as though in an attempt to make him more comfortable, while the woman chooses to stand at her colleague’s left, keeping her hands behind her back.

“Do you mind answering some questions?” the policeman asks, finally remembering that Dabi is also in the room, even as he’s already taking out a pen and a writing pad. He licks his index finger and spends a few seconds riffling through the pages until he finds a blank one.

“That depends,” Dabi replies, attempting to shrug and leaning back to rock on the chair as much as the cuffs will allow him. Which, admittedly, is not much. “Are you actually going to listen to my answers? Because I don’t feel like wasting my time.”

“Touya,” Endeavor barks in warning. He’s standing stiffly behind the officers, his back resting against the wall right next to the door. He has his arms crossed, which, if Dabi remembers his body language YouTube videos correctly, means he’s feeling unsure or cornered. One thing’s for sure, he does not want Dabi to mouth off to the officers.   

Too bad Dabi does not give a single fuck about what his father wants.

“Of course we’re going to listen,” the woman assures him, even going so far as to attempt a smile. “We just want you to tell us what happened so we can better understand the situation.”

He wants to argue that he’s already told them everything they needed to know and they dismissed him, but he stops himself at the last moment. There’s no point fighting with them – they only hear what they want to hear. It’s better to play along, do what they ask, and hope that once they’re done he will be able to go home.

He makes a vague gesture that he hopes translates to go on.

“Right.” The man clears his throat, tapping his pen against the paper. He keeps shooting nervous glances back to where Endeavor is, as if waiting to be yelled at again at any moment. “Let’s start from the beginning. What were you doing in that park?”

“I took my brothers out for ice cream.”

“Why?”

“Because we wanted ice cream,” Dabi deadpans, already regretting agreeing to this.

“Right, of course.” The man pretends to note something down. “And you didn’t see anything suspicious in the park prior to the explosion?”

“One guy sort of had this pedo vibe to him. He was hanging out next to the playground way too much.”

The officer blinks. “Well... I don’t think that’s connected to our case. But thank you. We might look into this.”

Dabi rolls his eyes. “Sure you will.”

After letting out an awkward chuckle and sending yet another look back at Endeavor, the officer continues, “Well, yes, uhm, when did you notice something was wrong?”

“When I heard the explosion.”

“And what did you do when you heard it?”

“I took my brothers and ran.”

This, for some reason, seems to give everyone a pause. Even Eraser, who has until now been hoovering next to Dabi and silently watching the proceedings.

“You... ran?”

“Are you deaf? That’s what I said.”

The woman frowns, putting her hands on her hips. “But that doesn’t make sense. If you ran, then how did you end up fighting the villain?”

Dabi sighs, feeling the incoming headache. He’s so exhausted he could fall asleep right there on this stupid table. Why are these people so dumb? Aren’t they supposed to be detectives? Can they not deduct even something so simple?

“Look, lady, I’m not an idiot. I see a villain, I take my brothers and run. Sure, I knew I would probably be able to take them, but I wasn’t going to put my family in danger. We were almost out of there when we actually saw them and realized they were chasing that girl. Even then, I was still going to run. I thought heroes must be nearby and someone will help her soon. But I was wrong. She tripped and the villain jumped at her and was going to kill her, and no one was coming to save her, so I told my brothers to hide and saved her myself.”

“And that’s when you burned the villain?”

Dabi sneers at the man. “No. I told you, I’m not stupid.” He lets his expression transform into a smug smile. “I punched them.”

By now, everyone seems confused. Dabi relishes in it, of course, but he still wants to go home, so their slowness manages to annoy him anyway. This really isn’t his day.

“Okay?” The man blinks again, pen hovering over the pad. “So what happened next?”

“I fought them. The girl escaped, so I was mostly keeping them busy with some kicks here and there, nothing serious. I was just hoping to slow them down until help arrived. But I slipped and they managed to hurt me. I knew it wasn’t anything serious, so I was going to continue fighting them, but my brothers must have noticed the blood and they panicked. They started running towards me as if... I don’t even know what they were planning to do, honestly. Help?” Now, with hindsight and without the overwhelming terror for his brothers’ lives, he almost wants to laugh. What were they thinking? Were they going to throw their ice cream at the villain? “The villain noticed and went to attack them. So I did what I had to do.”

“You used your quirk?” the woman asks, as if that wasn’t fucking obvious. “Even if you knew it was illegal?”

“Yes, I used my quirk,” he snaps, exasperated. “And I would do it again. There were no heroes around, my brothers were in danger and that person was a feral psycho. Some useless laws were the last thing I was thinking about.”

“The burns on the villain were incredibly severe,” the male officer informs him after a moment of tense silence, his eyebrows furrowed suspiciously. “They did not look like a simple effect of a desperate action.”

Dabi scoffs. “Did you even read my fucking file? My fire burns at over 1500°C. For a normal person, even a few seconds of contact would result in third degree. That asshole is lucky to be alive.”

The officers have nothing to say to that. The man finishes writing something, probably his comments about how rude Dabi is, and sighs, staring down at his notes blankly. The woman, on the other hand, turns to Endeavor.

“I think we’re done with questions. We need to discuss this with our superior," she announces, a quick gesture of rubbing her temple being the only sign of her fatigue. "Are you coming, Mr. Endeavor? I imagine you will want to be there for that part."

Endeavor does not look like he’s listening. His eyes are focused on Dabi and there’s an unreadable expression on his face. There seems to be something strange in his eyes, another mixture of overlapping emotions, the result of which sends an unexpected shiver down Dabi’s spine. He really hates when he can’t tell what his father is thinking.

"I will join you in a moment," the man answers curtly, not sparing her a single look. "First, I would like to speak with my son."

"Very well."

She nods and yanks on her colleague’s uniform to get him moving. He startles at her touch as if waking up from a short nap, but is fast to stand up, hurriedly collecting his things. Once he’s done, he also offers them all a stiff nod, and then they both leave. The door closes behind them quietly, but somehow it still manages to sound like Dabi’s doom. It’s only after their footsteps fade that Endeavor loses some of his tension. But only some.

The man’s disapproving gaze travels to Eraser, who hasn't moved from where he's been standing the entire time. His posture remains relaxed even under scrutiny, his expression nothing but stoic. Even though Dabi would be hesitant to admit it, the hero’s steady presence is somewhat comforting. Which apparently doesn't sit right with dear old Enji. 

"Alone," his father stresses, narrowing his eyes in a thinly veiled threat.

"I'm not going anywhere," Eraser replies, meeting Endeavor’s eyes unflinchingly. Dabi has to hold back a snort at how bewildered his father looks. He imagines not many people have ever had enough guts to stand up to him like that.  At least not the people that he can’t put in their place with violence. It must be a humbling experience.   

So, powerless against Eraser’s lack of fucks to give, Endeavor turns to him. "And you," he asks with utter disbelief, "are fine with that?"

Dabi can feel Eraser’s eyes on him but he doesn't look away from his father to check what expression the man is making. "I don't see why I wouldn't be." He shrugs and then grins widely. "At least with him here, you won’t be able to try and strangle me again.”

He's almost sure he can hear Eraser muttering something among the lines of 'no self-preservation instinct' and 'problem child' and hey, rude. Not untrue per se but definitely rude.

It’s almost funny to watch Endeavor’s eyes widen for a short moment before his face turns red. He’s so caught off guard that he splutters a bit before finally saying, “What—What are you talking about? I would never do that. Your petty accusations are not going to help you now—”

“Spare us the bullshit. No one wants to hear that,” Dabi drawls, rolling his eyes. He can swear he can hear Eraser snort. “Yell at me if you have to and then go get me out of here. I’m hungry.”  

“Is this a joke to you?” Endeavor spits furiously, clenching his fists as he rushes to get closer, the only thing separating his wrath and Dabi being the sad little table. "Do you have any idea how stupid what you did was? What consequences it could have had? And all of that for what? Because you wanted ice cream?"

Dabi considers pointing out that, technically, he wasn't the one who wanted ice cream, but he isn't going to throw poor Shouto under the bus like that. Instead he raises his eyebrows in disbelief. "So now it's my fault there was a villain in the stupid park?"

Endeavor growls. "It wouldn't be a problem if you just stayed home like you were supposed to."

“Well, we didn’t! I know you would love to just lock us in there forever, but it doesn’t work like that!”

“It’s not about that—!” Endeavor pauses to exhale in frustration, as if to calm himself down. It doesn’t seem to be working. “Do you not understand? You could have destroyed your entire future! This could have gone on your record – it still can! You could be expelled! Or you could have been crippled and then your career would be ruined and—!"

“Of course it’s about that,” Dabi cuts him off, chuckling darkly. “How hard is it to get into your thick scull? I don't give a shit about my career, about school or records, or whatever bullshit you think is important. I never wanted to be a hero! It's you who wants that! But it's my life, and if I want to ruin it then I will, and you can't do shit about it!"

“You really don’t understand—”

“No, you don’t understand! You come here and talk to me about this nonsense when all I did was save someone’s life! I didn’t do it to piss you off. You’re not that special. I was just doing what your beloved hero course taught me and I don’t see why you’re so angry about that—”

“Because you could have died!” Endeavor roars, banging his fists against the table so hard that it rattles dangerously. He’s breathing heavily, with a million different emotions battling across his face. But in the deafening silence, over the ringing in his ears, Dabi realizes something ground-breaking.

Endeavor was worried about him.  

It probably shouldn’t come as such a shock. Most parents would be scared shirtless if their children got involved in a villain attack. There was never a doubt in Dabi’s mind that Rei would freak out when she heard about it. But his father? He assumed his father would just be annoyed that the police is bothering him during his work hours. Maybe disappointed that the villain didn’t manage to kill him and spare the man the trouble. But this? This is the last thing he’s been expecting.

"Now, Endeavor, I think you're out of line here," Eraser speaks for the first time, a frown marring his usually stoic face. Dabi notices that the man instinctively positions himself between him and Endeavor, as though to protect him with his own body should the need arise. 

Endeavor spares him only a fleeting glance. "Stay out of it, Eraser."

He does cool down a bit though, which was probably Eraser’s main goal. Dabi thinks he should be more annoyed that the man is still trying to defend him, even after all the times he told him to quit it, but mostly, he’s weirdly warm. It’s... nicer than he would have imagined, having someone so firmly on your side.    

"You could have died," Endeavor repeats eventually, this time a lot calmer, and there’s a slight shaking to his voice even as he grits his teeth. “Your brothers could have died. You could have been seriously hurt. Why, you were hurt!” Here, Endeavor’s eyes land on Dabi’s torn bloody tank top. They’re filled with some sort of primal fear, an emotion that seems foreign even to Endeavor himself. Dabi has never seen his father’s eyes look like this before. “It’s not about you going out. I do not care if you go get ice cream with your brothers. You—you should have fun if you so desire.” Wow, it sounds like it physically hurt him to say this. Endeavor truly is pathetic. “But you should not have involved yourself in that fight. You should have done what you did at the beginning and run, as far as possible.”

“And leave that girl to die?”

“Sometimes, heroes have to make sacrifices.”

He says it with such ease. As if letting someone die was just an everyday occurrence, trivial enough to be ignored. Dabi is literally a murderer and he has more regard for human life than that. Sure, he did kill a lot of people, he’s not going to deny it, but they were mostly criminals. Or assholes who pissed him off too much, but whatever, you get the point. They weren’t innocent children. And besides, Dabi was a villain. He’s allowed to be a bad person. Endeavor is supposed to be a hero. Should heroes really have such a flippant attitude towards letting little girls die?

“Good thing I’m not a hero then,” he scoffs, sending his father a challenging smile. “I didn’t have to make any sacrifices and everyone’s alive. I would say I did a pretty good job.”

“You were lucky, that’s all. It easily could have gone wrong. Your control over your quirk is mediocre at best and—”

“Maybe look in the mirror before you start talking about my control.”

His father’s face spasms, the vein on his forehead twitching as he attempts not to rise to the bait. The grimace serves to stretch the scar Dabi left him, as though to prove his point. It’s hard to keep his satisfied smirk contained, so he doesn’t.

“You only managed to hit me because of a cheap trick,” Endeavor responds arrogantly, swallowing the initial anger. “Do not mistake it for anything else.”

“Here you go again, underestimating me.” Dabi shakes his head, laughing humourlessly. His eyelids are getting heavy again. There’s an uncomfortable cramping in his stomach. He just wants to go home. “I know my power. I knew I could take that villain. I wouldn’t even get that scratch if not for those useless quirk laws! You’re making a big deal out of nothing.”

“It is not nothing. Even if you were right about all of that, there is still the matter of your future. You are under an illusion that I can fix everything you mess up, but I assure you, it isn’t true. I cannot guarantee this will have no consequences. You could still be charged, you could still be expelled, you might have jeopardized everything you worked for! Does that mean nothing to you?”

“Yes!” Dabi can’t help but raise his voice. How many times does he have to repeat himself? “I told you, I don’t care about any of this! I don’t care about being a corrupted hero, who would watch a child die because he’s scared of getting some scratches. I don’t care about school either – they will probably expel me for grades anyway, so what’s the difference? And if they throw me in jail for this, so be it! Nothing you say will make me regret this, so stop wasting my time and go be useful for once.”

His father is silent for what feels like eternity, even after Dabi’s words have long stopped echoing through the tiny room. Suddenly, the space between them feels small, charged with something unnamed. Endeavor levels Dabi with a dark look, leaning over the table to be able to pin him down with his eyes. When he speaks again, his voice is calm, mocking even.

"You think you are the smartest person in the world, don't you?” Endeavor tilts his head, as if genuinely curious. “You think you know everything? That you are smarter than everyone?" He barks out an unpleasant laugh. "You aren't. There is so much you still don’t know. You are a child, Touya. You think you have it all figured out, but I assure you, you don’t. And one day, when you finally understand what you wasted, I promise you, you will regret it. You—you will wish you could change the past, fix your mistakes, do everything better. But it will already be too late."

Dabi raises an eyebrow. "Are we still talking about me here?"

He gets no answer, whether because he hit a nerve or just because, at this point, Endeavor is too fed up with him to bother. The silence weighs heavily between them, since no one quite knows what to do next. What else is there to do? Endeavor’s words mean nothing to Dabi, because he isn’t actually a child and he’s already made all those mistakes. He could argue for the argument’s sake – and god, fighting with his father always makes his blood rush in the best way possible – but he knows arguments aren’t going to get him out of here. The best course of action is to be the ‘bigger person’ and let it go.

"I see you will not take this seriously," Endeavor says eventually, his face turning to resignation, or maybe something ridiculous like disappointment. "Don’t come crying to me when your recklessness ends up biting you in the ass."

"I won't," Dabi promises with a snort.

Another few seconds of silence and then Enji exhales heavily, pinching his nose.

"I'm going to go and try to talk some sense into these people."

Dabi hums noncommittally and makes a 'go ahead' gesture, busy contemplating his nails – although again, the effect is probably ruined by the handcuffs still keeping his hands close to the table.

"Don't do anything stupid while I'm not here."

"Me? Stupid? Never."

Endeavor doesn't deem that worthy of a response. Instead, he mutters something angrily to himself, sighs again and finally, finally, leaves the room. He doesn’t spare a single glance back on his way out, but Dabi waves at him cheerily anyway, more than a little satisfied about getting the last word.

Once his father is fully gone, the atmosphere in the room instantly becomes lighter. Dabi leans back in his seat and smiles to himself, while Eraser sighs and shakes his head in exasperation. The circles under his eyes seem to have darkened somehow in the last half an hour.

"You really have a death wish, kid," he says as he finally allows himself to drop into the other chair.  

It gets an honest laugh out of Dabi. Yeah, he probably does.

"You know, you're not the first person to tell me that."

"You sure it’s a good idea to antagonize him like that?“ the man asks carefully, face twisted into a worried frown. "He might not do anything... drastic while you’re in public, but you will have to go home eventually."

"Aww, Eraser, you care," Dabi coos, batting his eyelashes.

The man rolls his eyes. "It's Aizawa."

"Huh?'

"My name. It's Aizawa Shouta," he clarifies. As Dabi continues to stare at him uncomprehendingly, the hero sighs again and explains, “I got to know yours, it's only fair you know mine too."

Slowly, Dabi nods.

"Okay, Aizawa.” The name feels weird on his tongue, but not bad. He will get used to it. It’s definitely better than Eraserhead. “Look, I told you not to worry about me, yeah? I know how to deal with Endeavor. He’s a violent piece of shit, sure, but I can handle him.”

For some reason, the words don’t have the reassuring effect Dabi was aiming for. Aizawa's frown only deepens. "You shouldn't have to."

Dabi only snorts, as if to say no shit. Eraser should know by now that the world isn't fair and people rarely get what they deserve.

"What about the rest of your family?" the man asks then and Dabi goes still. Images of burns and kettles, and boiling water flash before his eyes, freezing his insides in the familiar grip of terror. The phantom itching of scars that are no longer there but could easily be back if he isn't careful enough. All those long, lonely years spent on the streets with no way of knowing what became of his siblings, whether they’re even still alive or if they too are now nothing but a scorched memory. "Can they handle him?”  

“I don’t know,” he admits through gritted teeth, future that never was mixing in his head with the present he’s not sure he can change. “...probably not.”

Aizawa’s face softens, one of his hands reaching across the table as if to touch Dabi in some misplaced gesture of reassurance, but stopping before it can make contact. “Look, you don’t have to trust me. I know you have some problems with heroes – and I don’t blame you, after your experiences. But I want to help you. We can get you all out of there. Away from him.”

“You think I haven’t tried?” he snaps bitterly. “It's not that easy. I told them, I told my mum she needs to divorce him, but she’s too scared to leave and she keeps giving me all these excuses about how he’s too powerful and how no court would ever let her keep us. And then he comes and starts claiming he wants to change, and for some reason they all believe him, and now I’m the bad guy for pointing out it’s most likely a load of bullshit...!”

Dabi stops for a moment to take a deep breath, guilt clogging up his throat. He knows what can happen, what probably will happen and yet, it seems like he can’t do anything to fix it. He’s always thought knowing the future would a blessing. Turns out it’s really more like a curse.

“I could talk to her. Maybe if she knew there was someone who believes you, someone who could do something to help, she would change her mind.”

“No offense, but what can you do? You’re just some underground hero nobody knows. I bet you’re not that much older than me. What can you do against someone like Endeavor?”

There, unexpectedly, a sly smirk blooms on the man’s face. “You would be surprised.” Dabi raises his eyebrows in a clear prompting to continue, but instead Aizawa turns serious again. “I know that it seems impossible. My parents weren’t anywhere near as influential as your father but it was still a struggle to get away from them. I wished for someone to help me then, but no one did, not until my husband. I don’t want anyone else to have to go through that.”     

So Eraser's family wasn't rainbows and roses either, huh? Yeah, that would explain a lot – first and foremost, his penchant for adopting every sad child he lays his eyes on. Dabi isn’t sure he can accept his help though. Perhaps him talking to Rei wouldn’t be such a bad idea, but other than that... That’s a lot of trust to put into a guy whose name he’s learnt just a few minutes ago.

That’s a lot of trust to put in a hero.

(The only other hero he’s ever remotely trusted was Hawks – and Hawks turned out to be a traitor. Yes, it did end happily, for the most part, but still. You will forgive him for having trust issues.)  

"I will think about it," he eventually replies and Aizawa nods in acceptance. For some people, it might sound like a dismissal, but they both know he will actually think about the proposition.

He just hopes he won’t end up regretting it.

***

Despite his earlier threats, Endeavor manages to get him off without so much as a slap on a wrist within the next hour.

Aizawa had to leave soon after their little heart to heart, so Dabi has been sitting in his cell all alone this entire time, dying of boredom, the rhythmical tapping of his fingers against the table his only entertainment. When the door finally opens again, he’s so out of his mind with the monotony of the empty grey walls that even the sight of his father’s ugly face is a welcome respite.  

“Finally,” he drawls, making sure to look properly unimpressed. “I didn’t know the police made a habit of starving children to death.”

Along with Endeavor, there are the two officers from earlier. They both seem displeased, even as they follow his father inside, which immediately tells Dabi that he’s going home. He doesn’t try to cover his smug smile. In fact, he makes sure the woman can see it clearly as she reluctantly unlocks his cuffs.

“About time,” he says, standing up and stretching his stiff muscles. “Do you know how fucking uncomfortable that is?”

“Touya,” Endeavor says warningly, at the same time as the male officer declares:

“You are being let out, under the condition that you keep what happened today a secret and promise not to ever use your quirk like that again without a legal certification. That means not speaking about today’s events to the press, your classmates or any other friends. Your school will not be notified about this incident and it will not figure in any of your records. Unless you break the law again – then, this charge will be added to whatever other charge there might be. Do you understand?”

“Sure,” Dabi replies instantly, having stopped listening after the ‘you are being let out’ part. It’s the only part he gives a shit about anyway.

The man squints at him. “So you promise not to use your quirk offensively again, at least until you get your license?”

“Oh, yeah, absolutely.”

“And you promise to leave dealing with villains to the heroes in the future?”

“’Course. I learned my lesson. Next time I see a child getting murdered, I will remember to let that happen. It’s not like anyone appreciates my efforts anyway.”

“Alright, I think that is enough,” Endeavor rushes to intervene before the cops get so annoyed they change their mind. “Touya promises not to do it again and that is that. Let us return home. I am sure this has been very stressful for him and he needs his rest before school tomorrow.”

“He doesn’t look very stressed to me,” the woman mutters under her breath, but Endeavor pretends not to hear her.

“Come on, Touya. Your mother and your brothers are waiting.”

Dabi stills at the mention of his mother, but only a little. He wasn’t expecting to see Rei until they get back home, which is not unreasonable, mind you, considering she was hardly ever allowed to leave the house before. He really tries not to show his sudden apprehension, but his father seems to notice nevertheless, if his expression is anything to go by. His smile is tight, but his eyes shine with badly hidden satisfaction. It’s like he’s simultaneously glad that Dabi fears the reaction of at least one of his parents and annoyed that it isn’t him.

It’s not like he thinks Rei will hurt him or anything like that. It’s the other way around – he doesn’t want her to be scared of him, now that she knows what he’s capable of. He still thinks his reaction to being attacked by a crazy villain was perfectly justified, don’t get him wrong, but he’s not sure Rei is going to see this the same way. She wasn’t there. She would hear he burned someone almost to death and be left with that. What if it makes her decide he’s too much like his father to be worth an effort?

He follows Endeavor out of the room, pretending he doesn’t feel the gulp in his throat. It’s fine, he tells himself. He’s already lost her once. If she ends up thinking he’s a monster, well, she won’t exactly be wrong, will she? He will gladly let her hate him if that’s what she needs. As long as she remains sane and safe. As long as it’s not Shouto.

People shoot them some curious looks as they walk through the precinct, but thankfully, most of the attention seems to be on Endeavor. He still has his flames burning all over his costume, the drama queen. Endeavor pays the nosy observers no mind though, focused solely on getting out of there as soon as possible, and so Dabi doesn’t either. The sinking feeling in his stomach keeps him from enjoying the attention anyway.

At last, they arrive in the atrium, filled with busy cops and papers flying around. Next to the door, sitting impatiently on the small couch, is Rei. Natsuo and Shouto are similarly jumpy, hoovering over her even as she attempts to get them to sit down, and seemingly arguing about something. Dabi can’t help the small smile fighting its way onto his lips. It’s good to see for himself that they are fine. How is he supposed to feel bad for doing what he’s done when not doing it could have cost him this?

“We are done,” Endeavor announces suddenly, drawing their attention to himself in an instant. Rei jumps to her feet, her eyes wildly searching for something and only settling once they fall on Dabi. “It is all taken care of. We can go home.”

His mother doesn’t say anything at first, as if she didn’t hear a word out of Endeavor’s mouth. Her attention is solely on Dabi. His muscles tense without his permission as he waits for the inevitable rejection. Rei is clearly shaken – her hands are trembling slightly, her complexion is ghostly white and her chest is raising and falling a little faster than would be considered normal. She opens her mouth and Dabi braces himself.

“Oh, Touya, sweetie, are you alright? Do you have any idea how worried I was?”

He blinks. What?

Before he can properly process what’s happening, his mother is in front of him, cupping his face and frantically checking him over for injuries. He can do nothing but stand there dumbly as she fusses over him, inspecting his arms for signs of burns and stopping just short of touching the wound on his chest. Her hands are still shaking and it’s with a ridiculous amount of relief that he realizes it’s not from fear of him, but for him.

“Oh, honey, you’re hurt! Did that villain do this? Does it hurt much?” she exclaims, worry quickly transforming into outrage. “I can’t believe they kept you here for so long with a wound like this! And they didn’t even give you anything to change into?! I think I want to have a word with those officers, this is no way to—”

“Mum, it’s okay—” he says at the same time as Endeavor states:

“That will not be necessary.”

“Won’t be necessary?! You must be joking!” Rei snaps, not even realizing who she’s talking to in her rage. Endeavor seems too caught off guard to react with anything but dumb shock. “He has blood all over him! I can see now why they wouldn’t let me see him! We have to report this somewhere, I—”

“Mum,” Dabi interrupts, badly attempting not to smile. He grabs her shoulders to keep her in place and, hopefully, calm her down. “I’m fine. I promise. It’s just a scratch, nothing I can’t deal with.”

“Liar!” Natsuo cuts in suddenly, staring at him accusingly. Next to him, Shouto is nodding, his face solemn. “We saw the villain hit you! It was not ‘just a scratch’!”

And just like that, with the terror and worry mostly gone, Dabi is finally flooded with anger. He narrows his eyes at the two boys, hoping his disapproval is as vicious as he wants it to be. “You two have no room to talk. I told you to stay in place while I took care of that villain and what did you do? The exact opposite! You could have died! Do you understand that? Do you understand how stupid what you did was? I—” he stops abruptly, noticing with rising horror the tears pooling in Natsuo’s eyes.

“Touya—” his mother starts gently, but hesitates for too long.

Natsuo lets out a shaky breath. “I—I’m sorry. I know what we did was stupid but you were hurt and we thought—We just wanted to—” he cuts himself off, or rather he’s cut off by a sniff that instantly melts all the ice around Dabi’s heart.

With a sigh, he deflates, scolding himself inwardly for being so harsh. He didn’t mean to make his brother cry. He was just so worried about them and they weren’t thinking, and they could have died, and it would have been his fault because he left them alone, and... Well, you get the point. He doesn’t want to be cruel though. Sometimes, it’s hard to remember his brothers are just kids. Of course they wouldn’t know better. Of course they’re going to make mistakes. All that matters is that Dabi saved them and that they are fine now. There’s no point in screaming at them for wanting to help him.

“No, I’m sorry,” he says, rubbing at his eyes. The exhaustion is now just an annoying buzzing in the back on his mind. He’s past the point where he actually feels it. Doesn’t mean he wouldn’t kill someone for a nice, comfy bed. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you. I’m not really mad, I was just worried. You really scared me there.”

Next thing he knows, he has his arms full of his brother, wrapping his arms around him tightly enough to make it hard to breathe. He lets out a quiet ‘oof’ and tries not to flinch at the flash of pain that goes through his entire body at the wound being aggravated. Instead, he embraces Natsuo back, enjoying the quick satisfied thought that the boy is still a little shorter than him. He knows it won’t be the case for much longer. He almost lets out a laugh at the uncomfortable expression on Endeavor’s face. The man probably doesn’t even know what a hug is.

“You scared me too,” Natsuo mumbles into his torn shirt. Dabi squeezes him tighter.

Suddenly, there’s another warm body pressed against him. Dabi glances down to see Shouto silently wrapping his arms around his middle. The boy doesn’t say anything but the hug has a clear ‘I’m sorry’ vibe to it. Dabi decides to mercifully forgive them.

“Are you done making a scene?” Endeavor grumbles after a moment, earning himself a sharp look from Rei. “I do not have time for this. I should be getting back to work.”

“You’re just jealous no one wants to hug you,” Dabi mutters, but detangles himself from his brothers’ clutches anyway. He can swear he can hear Rei snort quietly at that.

As if to spite her husband, she pulls Dabi into a quick hug herself. He’s happy to let her, both because he can feel she needs it and maybe a little because he needs it too. Endeavor sighs impatiently, but allows them a few seconds of peace before he’s back to his usual assholery.  

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” Rei whispers, softly running her fingers through his hair. “When I got that call...”

“I’m sorry we went out without permission,” he feels the need to say. Endeavor huffs somewhere in the background, but Dabi pretends he’s not there. “We should have just stayed at home.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter now,” she says, letting him go and giving him a weak smile. “All that matters is that you’re okay.”

“Yeah,” he replies with a smile of his own. “It could have been a lot worse, I guess. I could have been stabbed or something.”

Rei’s face darkens. “Don’t even joke like that.”

And yeah, maybe it wasn’t the smartest thing to say. Not everyone shares his weird sense of humour.

“Sorry,” he says sheepishly.

At the same time, Endeavor’s phone pings and the man spends a long moment trying to get it out of the pocket of his tight pants. He frowns as he looks down at the message, but writes something very short back and pockets the phone again. Dabi can’t quite hide his surprise. He wasn’t aware Endeavor knew how to text.

“There is an emergency requiring my attention,” he tells them in that annoyingly stuck-up way he always uses when talking about his work. “I am afraid I need to leave.”

“What emergency? Your side-kicks ran out of donuts?”

Endeavor does not grace that with an answer. “The car is waiting outside. I will meet you at home in the evening.”

Rei nods, not looking very excited about the prospect. His brothers, on the other hand, perk up immediately at the mention of going home. They must be about as bored here as Dabi has been.

“Alright, boys, let’s go then,” Rei says, grabbing Shouto’s hand and walking towards the exit.

Dabi follows her, more than ready to lock himself in his bedroom and sleep for five days, but he can’t stop himself from flashing the pigs one last middle finger just as the door starts closing behind them.    

Chapter Text

Some people would probably argue that going out to illegally hunt criminals the same day you’ve been arrested for doing just is not a very bright idea – and Aizawa would absolutely be one of those people – but when has Dabi ever cared about other people’s opinions? His fists are itching for a fight, his eyes refuse to close after he’s slept through the afternoon, and if he has to look at another equation tonight he swears he’s going to set something on fire.

Most likely Endeavor. 

And Dabi doesn't think Aizawa would appreciate that, either. Not that he cares what the man thinks, of course.

Still, after all the fussing from his mother, the shitty treatment from the police and having to deal with his father’s bullshit, Dabi desperately needs to let out some steam. What’s a better way to do that than go beat up some assholes?

(Dabi doesn’t have a therapist, but if he did, he’s sure they would tell him that violence isn't a healthy coping mechanism. To which his response would probably be that sex and drugs aren’t an available option right now, so he takes what he can get.

Maybe that’s why he doesn’t have a therapist.)

And, well, Aizawa still needs to give him back his phone. It only makes sense to go, he reasons.

Sneaking out is as easy as always, which comes as a bit of a surprise. He sort of expected Endeavor to be on some higher alert after that disaster, but it doesn't seem to be the case, if the loud snoring coming from the man’s bedroom is anything to go by. It’s strange, but Dabi isn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. It’s very likely that Endeavor is just too much of an idiot to think any of his children would dare to do something like that.

He isn't even out of his neighbourhood when he catches his first criminal of the night. An older man, ridiculously richly dressed, being threatened by some muscly guy with a fake gun and a creepy smile. Dabi rolls his eyes, briefly considers letting the criminal do his part because honestly, fuck capitalism and fuck rich people, but eventually takes him out anyway, just because he looks so sketchy, and leaves before the victim can even think about thanking him.

He probably shouldn’t have done that, he realises almost immediately. He most likely wouldn’t, if it was any other day. Not only because of his personal feelings towards rich assholes, but also because his neighbourhood is not exactly a great place for vigilanting. Too big of a chance of some wealthy bastard snitching on him to the authorities. After all, people here have heroes – they don’t need vigilantes. But tonight he just really wanted to punch someone. Which, again, he really shouldn't have done. Especially now that he would most likely be kept under some surveillance from the police. He doesn't want to end up back at the precinct, thank you very much.

He manages to stifle any further violent urges until he gets to his usual area of ‘work’. But the moment he steps into the darkness, the moment the familiar grim alleys start singing to him with their melody of crime, he’s gone. In the next two hours, he stops another mugging, two rape attempts, one burglary and one unimaginative bullying session, and he has a hell of a time doing it. The wound on his chest stings something awful with every sharp move, but somehow, the pain only makes it better. Makes him feel more alive.

Such a large number of crimes is nothing out of the ordinary – in big cities like this, there is always something shady happening, some assholes whose faces need rearranging. What is very much out of the ordinary though is that he's been out here for so long and yet Aizawa has not shown up. Usually, it only takes about two arrests for the man to find him (and pretend to scold him while doing nothing to actually stop him), so his current absence doesn’t bode well. Is it possible that the man took a day off? Dabi finds it hard to believe. Aizawa doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who takes days off. Maybe he’s busy with something big? But Dabi is pretty sure he would know if there was anything big going on, so it can’t be it. Maybe he didn't think Dabi would be stupid enough to go out after what happened earlier and just decided not to bother with searching for him?

Whatever the reason, Dabi is getting annoyed with all this waiting. It's just his luck that the one time he actually wants the hero to come harass him Aizawa is nowhere to be found.

He lets himself fall backwards with a sigh, legs dangling over the edge of the roof he’s sitting on. His back touches the ground with a quiet thud and the cool of it is a welcome reprieve from the still absurdly hot weather. For a moment, he simply stares at the stars, trying to recall any of the constellations Toga forced him to learn during her short witchy phase. It’s a futile effort, both because his memory is pretty shit and because the stars are barely there, just a few weak flickers among the deep darkness. He knows their true beauty is obstructed by all the light the city generates. He knows they would be way more impressive viewed from the countryside or a remote beach, like the one where Hawks took him on their anniversary date and they spent the entire night competing over who can come up with the stupidest new zodiac sign. Still, they're nice to look at. Calming.

Instinctively, he reaches for his phone to play some mindless game but then he remembers he doesn't have it. Fucking Aizawa has it and his other phone is back in his room, plugged to the charger. He did consider taking it with him, just in case, but in the end he decided the risk wasn't worth it. That phone had enough personal information on it to instantly blow his cover if someone managed to get their hands on it. And it was also Touya’s phone, one given to him by Endeavor, so it might just as well have some tracking shit installed on it or whatever. Probably not – he thinks he would be able to notice – but it’s better safe than sorry. Besides, what does he really need a phone for anyway? It’s not like he ever actually calls the police.

Disappointed that his Candy Crush craving will have to go unsatisfied, he grabs a pack of cigarettes instead. He's been itching for a smoke ever since he left the house. His hand hesitates though, just before lighting it. Because he's also been trying not to completely ruin Touya's young lungs. Therefore, he imposed a limit – three cigs a day tops. And he's already had that much today. But, well, sometimes a guy needs to indulge a bit, you know? And hey, maybe the familiar rush of nicotine will make him less irritated. Less likely to accidentally murder someone.

He lights the cigarette.

Not even a minute later, someone starts yelling somewhere close by. Someone else shrieks in response. Sighing again (and cursing himself for growing so soft), Dabi scrambles to stand up and immediately hisses in pain as the movement pulls on his wound. The screams from below steadily increase in volume. He flexes his muscles one last time and rushes to see what's going on down there, cigarette still between his lips.

And, well, the nicotine is so much better accompanied by the metallic taste of blood.

***

Later, much later, Dabi finds himself walking lazily down a familiar street – much too crowded for this hour of the night, he notices with some distaste – wondering if it’s time to head home. It’s pretty late already, so he should hurry if he wants to make it home before anyone notices his absence. Not to mention how his eyelids seem to be dropping without his permission and his muscles keep yelling at him to let them rest. His throat is raw from all the energy drinks he consumed and he thinks his poor heart is attempting to perform Vivaldi’s Summer with the way it’s racing like crazy. 

(He might have overdone it a bit tonight. Rarely, if ever, does his body count for the night exceed seven, maybe eight assholes. He’s already at twelve right now.)

Besides, there’s no reason for him to stay any longer. Eraser clearly isn't coming.

Mind made up, he speeds up his steps, aiming towards the train station. Despite the late hour, the news are playing on multiple large screens on the buildings around him and for a short second, his eyes fixate on one that seems to be describing the villain attack from earlier. Just like the officers promised, there's nothing about him in there – no mention of Endeavor, burns or wayward teenagers. Only a bare acknowledgement of the incident, without getting into many details.

At least he gets an official confirmation that the girl is fine. If the reporter is to be believed, there were no fatalities from the attack. Take that, useless pigs. 

Dabi is so busy staring at the screen and cursing the authorities that he doesn't notice a small child running right at him until it's too late. He glances down exactly in time to see a small body crush into him with a strangled cry and then his balance is gone and his butt painfully hits the ground.

"Watch it!" he hisses out of habit, ready to glare at whatever careless brat decided to make his day even worse.

But then his eyes meet an awfully familiar pair of blond buns, accompanied by a mouth full of sharp fangs and a face too young and way too gaunt. It doesn’t feel real – she doesn’t feel real – but he would know her anywhere. Whatever harsh words he was about to spew die on his tongue. He can do nothing but stare.

"I’m sorry!" cries the little girl who is undeniably Toga Himiko, her eyes wide and devoid of the usual craziness Dabi associates with her. Instead, they are glassy and filled with fear.

Her knees are both bleeding, Dabi notes absentmindedly, an unfortunate result of her skirt not being long enough to protect them from the fall. But that fact doesn't stop her from immediately jumping to her feet and running off into the crowd before he can fully process what's just happened.

"Wait!" he shouts after her, clumsily attempting to stand up, still half in shock. Unfortunately, when he manages to get up without being trampled to death by annoyed pedestrians and turns around, she's no longer there.

Some people are shooting him suspicious glances but he doesn't pay them any mind, too stunned by the unexpected encounter. He can’t believe he’s just met Toga. His heart is beating so fast it threatens to jump out of his chest and chase after her, and this time it has nothing to do with the amount of caffeine he consumed. He almost lets his legs do just that, before he realizes that him following her like that would probably only terrify her more.

"Shit," he curses under his breath, angry that he didn't react faster.

He's always known, theoretically, that League members also existed in this world, even if they weren't all criminals yet. Hell, he’s met Twice! Although, with Twice it was different – he was still more or less the same guy, albeit a little less scraggly looking and a lot less crazy. But Toga? The Toga here is just a child, a literal baby, terrified and unwanted, and still so innocent. He doesn’t know what he wants to do more – hug her until she never has to look so scared ever again or cry because she’s nothing like the girl who used to be like a sister to him. So he does neither. Instead, he’s stuck wondering.

Ten years is a lot of time. Toga hasn’t had her breakdown yet and won’t for some more years. Twice – Jin – is still sane and, as far as Dabi knows, has no plans of excessively cloning himself. Spinner would be what, in middle school right now? Mr. Compress’s family might still be alive. Magne might have not started murdering people yet. There’s still a chance for all of them, a chance to have a normal life. If only someone had the knowledge and the means to help them...   

(As for Shigaraki and Kurogiri... well, Dabi knows where they are. Shiggy would be incredibly young too now, around Natsu’s age, but still not young enough to be anywhere else than in All For One's clutches. There’s nothing to be done for them, he tells himself. It doesn’t help with the guilt.)

Before he has a chance to think deeper about what seeing Toga and having these revelations might mean to him, his attention is caught by a muffled screaming coming from somewhere to his right. So much for grand epiphanies. Cursing the terrible timing of whatever mediocre villain's ass he's about to kick – honestly, do criminals not sleep? – he pulls on his hood and runs towards the commotion as quietly as he can, one hand already on the handle of his knife.

It turns out to be a dark alley a few buildings over – when isn’t it a dark alley? criminals here are also not very original, it seems – one with an exit on both sides, but long enough that it doesn’t really matter. Sneaking closer to glimpse at whatever’s happening without being noticed, he forces his breathing to slow down as to not give himself away. His heart continues to hammer in his chest at an unreasonable speed, but there’s nothing to be done about that. It will either slow down on its own until tomorrow or he’s gonna die of a heart attack. A small inconvenience like that isn’t going to stop him from having his fun, he decides as he climbs to the roof of one of the buildings and peeks over the edge.

There's more people in the alley than he's expecting.

Four imposing figures, covered from head to toe in black, are standing in a half circle around two other people, a girl and a boy. The latter is leaning heavily against the wall, clutching his stomach tightly, and there’s a large red stain at the front of his shirt. There’s no weapon visible, but he’s clearly been stabbed. His skin is pale and clammy, and even from the distance Dabi can see the frantic rising and falling of his chest. His face is twisted in pain and, occasionally, he will let out a small whimper. Dabi realizes it must have been him he heard scream.

The girl is standing in front of the boy, fists raised and body tense, glaring at their assailants with vivid hatred. She’s young, maybe not as young as Dabi has been when he was first thrown into the streets, but certainly not of age. There are some light scars on her arms and more severe ones peeking from underneath her tank top. She seems tough, much tougher than anyone her age should be, and something in Dabi aches for her. For them both really, as the boy behind her is even younger and yet, although badly hurt and painfully outnumbered, he still has that look in his eyes that every survivor has. A will to live, a will to fight. They're both innocent children thrown into a cruel world way too early and, for some reason even he can’t fully explain, Dabi finds himself needing to save them.

Before that though, he has to get some insight on what's going on. They're clearly being attacked by some group, maybe just some regular thugs or maybe someone worse. The person who appears to be in charge of the attackers is snarling something about debts and favours and ‘The Boss’ as they advance – so, probably a gang. The girl appears to be shooting them down quite adamantly, which only serves to make the dark figures angrier, and it seems like the only reason they don’t attack her yet is her quirk – a red scorpion tail almost as tall as the rest of her – that looms behind her threateningly and helps keep them at an arm's length. But even so, despite her apparent confidence, she's visibly nervous. She may be a skilled fighter – and she looks like one – but probably not enough to easily take out all four of them on her own. And certainly not fast enough for her wounded companion, who's definitely losing a lot of blood and doesn’t have much time left.

If the boy is to live, Dabi will have to finish this quickly. But without his quirk – and he can't use his quirk, because while earlier it might have been overlooked, now there's a police record on him and they know, not only about his flames but also about his vigilantist tendencies – and without his infamous reputation as the League of Villains’ commander Dabi that used to cause most minor criminals to flee at the first sight of his scars, taking on four unknown enemies might prove to be difficult. Especially if he doesn't want to kill anyone. And especially, especially because that one annoying vigilante Dabi usually just makes the brainless thugs want to challenge him more.

The truth is, he probably needs backup.

Once again, Dabi curses Eraserhead for making him weak. Or logical, whatever. He would have never considered asking a hero for help before that man inserted himself into his life and dared to be nice. Why can’t he go back to mindlessly setting people on fire? If he could use his quirk, getting rid of the thugs wouldn’t take longer than a few seconds. There would be no need for any backup, especially not the hero type. Alas, it is what it is.

It's just too bad that this particular hero he would like to ask for help hasn’t had a chance to give him his phone back yet.

Well, shit.

From where he's perched on the roof over the alley, Dabi can see the entire confrontation quite clearly. Whoever these ninja guys are, they seem cautious about the girl's quirk, not coming closer than absolutely necessary even while threatening and stating their demands. None of them have any unusual features and none of them are using anything else to fight with other than their bodies, so Dabi thinks it's safe to assume they're quirkless or have quirks that are non-combatant. That makes it somehow more manageable. And they don't seem that tough anyway – guys with muscles as inflated as theirs tend to be all bark and no bite.

“I don’t want to hear it!” the leader, an imposing woman, hisses, taking a menacing step closer to the girl. She has her hands propped on her hips and her eyes are narrowed into slits. Her head is shaved and she has a dragon tattoo covering the back of her neck and most of her skull. Combined with the impressive size of her biceps, she makes quite an intimidating picture. “Your boss promised my boys they would get their rewards in exchange for our aim. We did our part of the deal. Where’s yours?”

“I told you, I don’t know!” the girl protests, clearly getting frustrated. Her eyes dart around frantically, as though in search of an opening or maybe someone who would help her. For a moment, her gaze seems to land on him and her eyes widen just a bit, but she looks away too quickly for Dabi to be sure if it was real or just a trick of the light. “He always repays depts. Always. He wouldn’t lie to you! If he hasn’t given you what you want yet, he will soon!”

“It’s been weeks!” one of the men growls, clenching his fists.

“Well, maybe the work you did for him wasn’t satisfactory!”

“You little bitch—!”

The leader grabs her companion’s hand before it can try to hit the girl. She herself looks like she would like nothing more than to do just that, but she seems to be holding her temper in check for now. Whatever it is they want so badly must be really important. It just makes Dabi want to stop them more.

“Calm down, Yuji,” the woman commands gently, a perfect picture of politeness. “We’re just talking for now. There’s no need to be rash. I’m sure our friend here is smart enough to realize what situation she’s in without unnecessary violence.”

“’Without unnecessary violence?!’” the bleeding boy exclaims indignantly between the grunts of pain. “You stabbed me! You—” he doesn’t get to finish whatever he means to say, cut off by a sudden coughing fit. Somehow, his face turns even paler just from uttering those two sentences. Dabi expects blood to start gushing out of his mouth at any moment.

“Oh, but that was very necessary,” the leader continues, her smile not wavering even a little. “It gives you an incentive to give us what we want quicker.”

“I can’t give you anything,” the girl insists, an edge of desperation seeping into her voice. Her gaze subtly turns up to where Dabi is sitting, proving that she did in fact notice him before, and there’s an urging in it, bordering on pleading. “I don’t control what he does! There’s nothing I can do to help you! Please, you have to believe me!”

Unfazed, the leader tilts her head and says, her voice smooth, “Maybe you can’t help. But you can bring us to him, can you not?”

“What? No, I—I don’t—” the girl stutters, and even from the distance Dabi can see her hands begin to shake. Behind her, the boy lets out a choked, gurgling sound, but she doesn’t react, frightened eyes focused solely on the enemy in front of her. “I don’t know where he is, I swear. He doesn’t tell me this stuff. He doesn’t! You have to believe me! Even if I wanted to tell you, I can’t!”

The two women’s stubborn gazes lock in a heated battle, each eager to get her way, none willing to give up without a fight. The silence encompassing the alley is tense enough to cut. Dabi wonders if he should leave. This is clearly something much more complicated than he initially assumed and he has no intention of involving himself in any gangster drama. But something keeps him in place. Part of a gang or not, these are still children. He’s familiar with the life on the streets – he doubts it was their choice to join whatever shady boss they seem to be serving.    

“I think you’re lying,” the leader says finally, her voice low. “I think you know exactly where he is. You’re his biggest little worshiper, after all.”

Well, maybe it was her choice after all, Dabi feels the need to rectify. Even so, he doesn’t think he has a right to judge her. Someone like her – young and lost, lonely and hopeless – would make a perfect target for a skilled manipulator. A kind word here, a friendly smile there and voila, you have earned yourself their undying loyalty. It’s a common pattern with abuse victims – just look at dear Shiggy and his sickly obsession with his ‘Master’.  

The girl does not react to the taunt. The nervousness she’s been expressing so far vanishes in a blink of an eye, discarded the moment it proved futile. Now, her expression is blank, maybe even a bit condescending. “Think whatever you want, I don’t care. You can plead, you can threaten me, you can even try to kill me if you want, but I’m telling you that I don’t know where he is and that’s all you’re going to get from me.”

The leader shares a look with one of her companions and nods lightly. The grin on the man’s face is obvious, despite being covered by black cloth. He ostentatiously flexes his muscles, then cracks his joints and forms his hands into fists. The two other guys remain still, but have similarly eager auras of bloodlust around them.   

“I suppose we have to do this the ugly way, then,” she says sweetly, baring her teeth in a parody of a pleasant smile. “Your turn, Yuji.”

The big man doesn’t need to be told twice. He jumps at the chance to leap forwards and aim a punch at the girl’s head, probably strong enough to crack her skull if it hit. Taking a hasty step back, she stops the attack with her tail before it lands, but the impact forces a grunt out of her anyway and there’s barely any space left behind her now, especially with the wounded boy still leaning against the wall. She glares at her attacker with the sort of hatred that could never exist outside of the darkness. It only seems to make the man’s next attacks that much more passionate.

The girl manages to hold her own for a while, much longer than Dabi would have expected. The three dark figures observe the fight in silence, but the longer it goes on the stormier the leader’s expression becomes. It’s obvious she’s getting impatient. Her eyes dart back and forth between the two entrances to the alley, as if to check for any wayward onlookers. She must be aware they won’t go unnoticed forever.

It’s unfortunate for her that she doesn’t think to look up.

She inclines her head the slightest bit, which must be some sort of signal, because the two remaining men stretch their muscles and lazily move to join the fight. One of them reaches into his pocket to retrieve something and it flashes with the reflected dull light of a single streetlamp. At first, Dabi assumes it’s a knife, but he quickly realizes his mistake. The shiny thing with which the man throws himself at the scorpion girl is a bloody butcher’s hook.

Suddenly, Dabi feels a renewed wave of sympathy for that poor boy. Having your guts rearranged with something like that couldn’t have been pleasant.

The girl manages to dodge the hook attack (seriously, what the fuck? is that guy, some Captain Hook wannabe?), but it forces her to close the distance between her and the first guy, who immediately attempts to grab her by her throat. She smacks her tail into him, putting him back on the defensive, but it leaves her vulnerable to the third man’s attack and the kick sends her flying, her back hitting the wall with a thud.

The leader’s sharp gaze turns to the left entrance and so does Dabi’s. It doesn’t seem like any of the passers-by are brave or sober enough to interrupt, but they doubtlessly can hear something is going on. It’s just a matter of time before someone calls the cops, bad district or not. He’s either going to have to get down there soon or run off before anyone undesired spots him and finally puts him in jail.    

The choice is basically made for him. The girl pulls herself up, but she's breathing hard and her moves are starting to get frantic as she’s immediately forced to parr another two hits. There’s a trickle of blood running down her face from a small wound on her head and she seems a little dizzy. As though sensing the weakness in her victim, the leader gives another signal – a small whistle.  

Instantly, one of the masked figures lunges at the girl, breaking the pattern of long range attacks and she raises her hands to defend herself. At the same time, the other two take advantage of her preoccupation and strike as well. She might have even been able to deflect them all, somehow, if not for the leader, who chooses this moment to put her foot in the bleeding boy’s stomach, causing him to shriek in agony. The girl turns towards him on instinct and the few seconds of her startled distraction are enough for one of the attackers to grab onto her tail and force it down, making her unable to use it.

She yelps and trashes around as the two dark figures restrain her limbs and the last one kicks her roughly in the stomach to keep her down. The boy screams her name through his cries, Annika or something like that, but he’s too hurt himself to attempt any help, so he’s left to gasp and watch her desperately struggle against impossible odds. The hook-wielding man sends the girl a wide grin as he raises the weapon, readying for the final swing.    

And just like that, Dabi moves. It's risky, too risky probably, but his limbs work without his permission. Something, some voice in his mind, urges him to help, even if it's dangerous, and right then, watching the girl’s eyes widen in horror at the approaching weapon, he can’t find it in himself to defy it.

Hero course would teach you that your own safety is more important than saving every single person. That you shouldn't rush in recklessly when you know you're outnumbered, even at the cost of someone's life, because your life is always more important. Dabi thinks it’s bullshit – didn’t people use to be called heroes precisely because they put the lives of others above their own?

Not here, apparently. Here, they would tell you to alert other heroes and wait for reinforcements. It’s not even that he thinks it’s stupid, it just obviously isn't an option for him. As if to spite him, Eraser is nowhere to be found, despite the fact that he managed to corner Dabi during his nightly escapades every single time before. There's only one choice here – let it happen, let two innocent children die, or get involved but risk getting hurt.

Getting hurt has never really been a concern for Dabi, so he jumps off the roof without further hesitation, using the weakest possible force of his flames to soften the fall.

"It's not nice to gang up on someone like that," he drawls, as the man’s hand stills and all of their heads turn to him in surprise. Especially the leader seems unhappy about the interruption. Good, he thinks and grins at them sharply, twirling the handle of his knife between his fingers. "No one’s ever taught you any manners?"

"Get lost, brat," one of them spits, his large hand still gripping the struggling girl's arm. "It's none of your business."

"Oh, I don’t know," Dabi hums, taking a few casual steps forward. The masked people tense a little but not enough to indicate they really see him as a threat. More like an annoyance. The wounded boy coughs up some blood and moans again, reminding Dabi that there's no time for dramatics here. "I would say dealing with assholes like you is exactly my business.”

He doesn't wait for them to react. He lunges at the closest one, aiming straight for the head. The handle of his knife is just heavy enough to work as a substitute for a blunt weapon and he's about to use that fact. It would have been so much easier if he could just slit their throats and call it a day, but that's 'morally wrong' or whatever, so simply knocking them out before they can kill him will have to do.

He's lucky he's fast. The person he's aiming for dodges his attack and immediately retaliates, about to grab Dabi's arm and probably break it, if the furious scowl on his face is anything to go by. He manages to jump back in time though and, knowing it would only egg the guy on, sends him a smug smirk.

It vanishes the moment he can feel another presence right at his back. Oh yeah, there are other people to take care of. At least the girl took advantage of their distraction, managing to break free, and is now fighting the other two.

Dabi ducks his head just as the person behind him tries to punch him and quickly aims a kick to the attackers knees. At the same time he blocks another hit from the other guy, barely saving himself from getting bonked in the ribs.

"You playing a hero, kid?" taunts the one who attacked him from behind, the woman. The deranged smile on her face mirrors his own. "There ain't no heroes here. You're just gonna die for nothing."

Even before she finishes talking, she’s already in his face. She’s fast, faster than her companions, but, fortunately, not as fast as Dabi. Caught off guard, he does the only thing he can think off – shoves his knife in front of himself just in time to slash her palm with the sharp end. She hisses in pain or maybe just in surprise, but doesn’t pause for long, only getting more determined to land a hit. The other guy is also trying to punch him from behind, but his moves are laughably slow. Still, he’s an inconvenience and an unwelcome distraction.

As if hearing his thoughts, the woman uses the moment he turns around to block another hit from the guy and kicks him in the back. He manages to spin the momentum enough to still avoid the second attack, but his spine hurts as hell and so do the palms of his hands as his body collides with the harsh concrete. The sting from the chest wound he’s already had combined with everything else turns out to be too much for him and his mouth lets out a pained cry without his permission.

“What? Baby’s hurt?” the woman coos, derision dripping from every word. “You should go home, boy, while you can still walk.”

Fuck. He really wishes he could use his quirk right now. He’s sure they wouldn’t sound so fucking cocky if their bodies were, you know, being set on fire.

Beggars can't be choosers though so he stands up quickly and only doubles his efforts. He won’t let some mediocre goons get the best of him, a child’s body or not. As he’s exchanging punches with the big guy, he notices out of the corner of his eye that the girl must have managed to take out one of her opponents, because there's an unmoving body lying at her feet, with the hook still gripped in its hand. The woman must notice it too, because she curses and ceases her attacks on him, leaving him to fight the guy alone while she goes to aid her other companion in subduing the scorpion girl. Now that it’s just the two of them, Dabi can properly direct his attention to the man in front of him and the real fight begins.

They exchange some more blows, but Dabi is able to avoid most of them. This criminal obviously has no idea of any martial arts, or even the basic fighting moves – it’s likely his size is usually more than enough to compensate for that, so he never bothered to learn. Which is good for Dabi, who has fighting against much bigger opponents pretty much mastered at this point. It’s laughably easy to use their strength against them if you know what you’re doing. And so, after receiving way more new bruises than he's comfortable with, he finally manages to land a hit to the guy’s head. A hard one.

He crumples to the ground with a thud, unconscious, and Dabi lets out a sigh of relief.

Good. Two down, two to go.

Momentarily out of opponents, Dabi risks a glance towards the wounded guy and immediately curses. The boy’s clothes are soaked with blood and his face is dangerously pale. With the state he’s in, t's a miracle he's still conscious – but judging by how his head is beginning to go limp, it’s just a matter of time before the blood loss gets one over him.

Someone should probably do something about it.

"You!" he shouts at the girl as he barges into the man behind her, hoping to take him out with one well aimed blow like he did with the one before. It doesn’t quite work, but it certainly earns Dabi the guy’s attention. Since he’s busy not getting smashed by the furious giant, he has no way of checking if she's listening, so he just continues, hoping that she does, "Take your friend and run! I will finish it here!"

"No way!” she yells back and then yelps as the woman aims a kick to her side. Panting, she adds through gritted teeth, “You won't be able to take them both!"

He curses again, irritation boiling the blood in his veins. He could incinerate all of them with a flick of his fingers if he wanted to – he's not weak. He simply chooses to keep them alive – although he might change his mind if that guy tries to grab his hair one more fucking time.

"He won't make it if you don't get him to the hospital soon!" he snaps, and if the next time he slashes the guy's skin with his knife it's a little deeper than he would normally allow, well, no one can blame him.

She says something back but it's drowned by the sudden battle cry Dabi's opponent lets out. Dabi head snaps towards him but it's too late to react. The much larger body slams into him at full force and they both fall to the ground, Dabi's fragile bones taking the brunt of it.

The air is squeezed out of him and he gasps, pain pulsing through his whole back. The guy's body is crushing him, not only making it hard to breathe but also aggravating the wound he got from the villain earlier. Dabi struggles despite knowing he has little chance to overpower the muscly monster. He pushes at him, kicks his legs, even attempts to bite the asshole, all to no avail.

(Look, it might be futile effort but he absolutely refuses to go down just because some idiot decided to throw himself at him instead of fighting like a normal person. Like, who does that?!)  

The guy grunts and raises himself on his arms while the rest of his body is still keeping Dabi in place. He’s completely unmoved by Dabi’s attempts at getting free, if maybe a bit annoyed, like one would be at an irritating fly. The man then grabs Dabi’s wrists to further restrain him and it takes everything in him not to scream in frustration. The suffocating feeling of the guy’s heavy body squashing him reminds him of things he doesn’t want to remember – of being helpless, weak, at a monster’s mercy.

He can’t overpower this man. The girl is still fighting with that woman and it doesn’t seem like she will be done anytime soon, so he can't hope for her help either. No one else is coming to his aid – he knows better than most that there are no heroes here. Not even Eraser, the one time that he’s needed. Dabi’s on his own, like always.

His opponent lets go of one of his hands to raise a fist, no doubt about to punch the ever-loving fuck out of Dabi. His smile, smile that is only a faint imprint against the fabric of his black ski mask yet obvious in the glint of his crazed eyes, promises pain.

And that just can't be. Dabi’s face is too pretty to get ruined like that.

Before he can question that decision, Dabi readies his muscles to run the moment he’s able to and then opens his mouth.  A wave of fire springs from between his lips, aimed right at the guy's head.

Letting out a blood-chilling scream, the guy stumbles back, clutching at his burning face, and in turn, letting Dabi jump to his feet. The man is wailing and Dabi is coughing, the taste of smoke heavy on his tongue, his throat burning unpleasantly. This isn't something he uses often, this ability, because of how hard to control and unpleasant it is, but hard times call for hard responses. At least it won't be possible for the guy to recall what colour the fire was, he thinks to himself wryly.

He watches in something akin to fascination as the man desperately grasps at his cheeks, trying to do something about the mask that's been melted into his skin. With the blood and the blisters quickly appearing wherever the fabric is completely gone and the black parts of it that fused grotesquely with the flesh, the sight is quite gruesome. But really, it's the guy’s own fault for wearing something so ridiculous. 

He walks over to the crying mess of a man and knocks him out while he's still being a baby about some small burns. Only then he lets himself relax slightly. One more left. He can easily take one, hopefully without using any more fire. The girl should be fine to take her friend and run now.

He will worry about explaining the burns on the man later. There are more important things to take care of first. Like the boy bleeding out on the ground.   

He turns to see how the other fight is going and immediately winces. By now, the scorpion girl is bruised and bloodied, and breathing heavily, her moves visibly getting more and more uncoordinated. Her opponent – the leader – is way faster, stronger and unrelenting, and clearly about to win very soon. Even without a quirk, she's just a better fighter.  

Realizing he needs to do something, Dabi attempts to sneakily hit her on the head while she's busy avoiding getting stabbed by the other girl's tail, but the woman notices him in time and dodges. He doesn't let that discourage him, continuing with an onslaught forcefully enough that she has to focus her attention on him instead of the girl.

But instead of running, like he fucking told her to, the girl keeps trying to get a hit in. She doesn’t spare a glance at her dying friend. She just stabs and stabs and stabs the air with her tail, each time a bit more frantically. The woman growls but avoids every single attack, even while simultaneously exchanging blows with Dabi. There is significantly less blood on her than on anyone else.

She's good, Dabi thinks bitterly, parring another of her blows. She's probably the best out of all of them.

Out loud, he says, "Run, for fuck's sake! I will be fine! Go get him some help!"

Again, she doesn't react. For some reason, she seems to care more about finishing this fight than she cares about saving her companion. Her companion, who is no longer leaning against the wall but instead sitting in a pool of his own blood, his face ghostly pale and his eyes closed. Dabi would've thought him already dead if not for the shallow rising and falling of his chest.

The scorpion girl doesn't look at the boy once. She only has eyes for her opponent. Her expression is dark, infuriatingly stubborn, her lips twisted into a hateful grimace as she continues throwing around her tails and, when it doesn’t work, suddenly changes tactics and sends a kick to the woman's back. The woman staggers, almost falling into Dabi's raised fist, but then stops herself, somehow, and turns her body around, aiming her leg at Dabi's face with lighting speed.

It smashes into him with its entire force and he's violently thrown back. He lands heavily on the ground, scrapping his palms even more and definitely adding to his already excessive bruising. He groans, feeling blood drip from his mouth – he must have bitten his tongue. His face is throbbing, which probably means he’s going to have to find a way to explain a black eye tomorrow. Great.

He forces his limbs to cooperate despite their protests and manages to pull himself up to his knees. There’s no time for self-pity right now, he berates himself. Blinking, he turns his head towards the fight to see what’s going on. It takes him way too long to get the dark spots out of his vision and by then, the woman is already on the girl, her hips straddling her, one of her hands keeping the girl’s tail pinned to the ground and the other closing around her throat.

Dabi curses, catching the girl's eyes, desperate and wild. He attempts to stand up, to help her, but immediately gets dizzy and falls on his butt ungracefully. Frustration boils in his gut and he’s ready to throw caution to the wind and use his quirk, when he notices the girls hands are free.

"Catch!"

He slides his knife over to her, hoping she will know what he means, and the girl doesn't waste any time. As the leader’s head snaps to him to see what’s happening, the girl grabs the knife and thrusts it into the woman’s throat.

Well, he thinks blankly as he watches the woman’s eyes widen in shock as she starts choking on the blood spurting from the gash on her neck. This isn’t exactly what he had in mind, but at least the girl has an excuse of self-defence. Even if he would prefer there to be no deaths, this is certainly better than losing.

Soon, the woman stops convulsing and her body goes completely still. At this point, there’s blood everywhere, but especially all over the girl. She doesn’t seem particularly bothered though. She grimaces slightly, wipes the blood off her face and throws the corpse to the side so she can stand up. She coughs a little, massaging her throat. It's going to bruise, Dabi can tell her that. He also takes a shot at standing, again, although everything is still spinning a little, and this time he succeeds. That woman must have really hit his head good. He just hopes it’s not a concussion. Those are a nightmare to deal with.

"Nice job," he comments, brushing dirt from his pants. It's useless - they're covered in blood and ripped in multiple places. He won't be using them again. But the gesture is almost instinctual.

Slowly, still unsure of his steps, he walks over to the girl to make sure she’s fine. She’s standing over the body awkwardly, glancing down at it as if unsure what to think. The blood is soaking her white shoes. She’s probably in shock.

"Thanks," she says, still breathing shakily. Her face is wet, from blood and sweat, but it doesn’t seem like she’s about to pass out or start crying, or anything dramatic like that, so Dabi sighs a sigh of relief. He wouldn’t know what to do if she did.

"Who were those people?"

"Who knows." She shrugs, seemingly unbothered. Dabi raises an eyebrow. From what he heard, they clearly knew each other. Whatever this was, was personal. But then again, why would she admit that to some random stranger, especially if she’s involved in something less than legal. It’s probably smarter to play dumb. “Some gang, maybe. There’s a lot of them these days.”

Still, even if the lying makes sense, she’s just... a little too chill about all of this. Something’s not right about it. That's not how he would expect an innocent victim to react after killing someone, even in self-defence. But then again, if she's been living on these streets as long as she thinks she’s been then she hasn't been innocent for a very long time. It’s not unusual for the mind to repress trauma at first. She’s probably just in shock.

He glances back to the wounded guy. His state didn't change much – by which he means it’s just as disastrous as a moment ago – although it's no longer clear whether he's breathing or not.

"You really should get him to the hospital," he feels the need to repeat.

"Nah.” She waves a dismissive hand. “He won't make it anyway."

Dabi blinks. What?

"Really, thanks for the help though," she continues, taking a step closer to him. Her smile seems weird all of the sudden. Like those vacant smiles painted on creepy dolls. Empty. "I wouldn't expect a skinny kid like you to fight so well. I would be dead if not for you."

"Well,” he says, warily, "that's what I do."

She nods, but she doesn't seem to be listening. Maybe she really is in shock. Or maybe she’s more injured than she appears. Her head must have taken some blows too, after all. She might have a concussion. He should call an ambulance for both of them. Although, she’s probably right it’s too late for the boy at this point. And he doesn’t have a phone anyway.

"You sure you're alright?" he finds himself asking when she doesn't say anything for a while.

"Oh," she startles, chuckling nervously as she looks around at all the fallen people around them and then down at her torn and bloodied clothes. "Yeah, sorry. I'm good."

"Okay. Good.” He nods, then turns, about to make his way towards the boy. She might have given up on him already, but he can still try to save him. "What's his name?"

"I really don't think—Agh!" a yelp leaves her mouth suddenly, interrupting whatever she’s about to say, and Dabi spins around on instinct, rushing to catch her before she can fall.

Her body is warm in his arms, he thinks absentmindedly, as he helps to stabilize her. It’s probably the blood. If he wasn’t looking like a murder victim already, he surely does now. It’s making his skin all sticky. The metallic smell is both pleasantly familiar and repulsing.

The girl gets her bearings quickly and sends him a bashful smile, one hand clutching his arm as she steadies her footing.

"Ah, sorry," she mumbles, rubbing at the back of her neck. "I'm still a little dizzy."

"It's fine," he says, although the warning bells in his brain won’t stop ringing.  

There isn't anything to trip over where they're standing.

She nods again, as if to herself, and seems to be about to step back when suddenly her head jumps up and her unusually yellow eyes catch his. A sugary sweet smile grows on her lips but by then it's too late to react, because her hand is already moving.

At first, he doesn't feel anything. It's like the world stops, absurdly and abruptly. He can only blink at her, his mind blank, as she simply continues to smile at him, as if nothing was wrong.

Then, piercing pain erupts in his abdomen, making him gasp. Only then does she push him away and suddenly, his legs aren't strong enough to hold him up. His knees hit the ground ungracefully, no doubt adding to his collection of scratches, but he barely feels it. Something warm and sticky is running down his stomach and soaking through his t-shirt, dyeing it red. With his trembling hands – when did they start trembling? – he reaches down to where the pain erupts from. There's a knife in his abdomen, he finds out. He almost chuckles. There's a knife in his abdomen.

His bloodstained fingers curl around the handle as if that could somehow make it disappear. The pain is there, but it’s muffled by the white noise in his ears. For a moment he simply stares down at the wound, uncomprehending. How is there a knife in his abdomen? Surely he wasn't stupid enough to let some teenage girl stab him? 

Said girl takes a few steps back, as if to admire her work, and gives him another small smile. Somehow, she seems even younger now, even more innocent, even with all the blood covering her. The red matches the colour of her tail, his brain notices dumbly. It suits her.

"I'm really sorry about that," she says, with no trace of guilt in her tone. "You seem like a nice kid, but I really can't have you babbling about me. I'm sure you understand."

"You—"

"Ah, ah, ah. Don't strain yourself," she interrupts, nonchalantly walking over to one of the unconscious men. As she crouches and starts searching through his pockets, she sends Dabi a cheeky wink. "Just let it happen."

"Fuck you," he spits, already cursing himself for being so careless, for involving himself in something he didn't fully understand. He should have just let them kill her. That’s what he gets for trying to play hero.

Having found what she was looking for – another knife, who would have thought – she does a quick job of slitting the guy’s throat, no sign of hesitation or remorse. Then she stands up and goes to the other unconscious man, the bloody blade in her hand glinting in the moonlight. Even if he wanted to stop her, Dabi’s body refuses to cooperate, his useless hands gripping the handle of the knife stuck in his stomach desperately as if that would somehow keep him from falling apart. And he doesn’t want to anyway. Risking his own life, life that’s already slipping through his fingers, for a bunch of worthless criminals is the last thing he’s interested in doing right now.

Blinking back the annoying black dots from his sight, Dabi watches silently as the girl swiftly kills the rest of her attackers, each with one sharp cut. That doll-like smile never quite leaves her face. She’s calm and precise, and on the outside it might seem like the murders mean nothing to her. But her twinkling eyes betray just how much she’s enjoying it.

Once she’s done with the thugs, she turns to her fallen companion and her expression shifts slightly. Becomes something more conflicted. For a moment, it seems like she’s going to say something, but in the end, her face turns cold again and all she does is slit his throat as well.      

What has probably been only a few minutes feels like hours, and with every passing moment Dabi is sure she’s going to try to do the same to him. Try being the key word. He might be a bit weakened physically right now – okay, a bit more than a bit – but his fire will burn as hot as ever. And, fuck, will he enjoy hearing her screams.

Before he can actually go ahead and let his fire roar, a police siren starts blaring somewhere close by. Both he and the girl freeze. Him because at this point he’s either going to die from the bleeding before anyone finds him or he’s going to have to deal with the police. With five dead bodies around him, one with his face burned off, after just getting arrested the same day. 

The girl puts the knife into her pocket and purses her lips, as if annoyed their fun is being cut short. She shoots a glance at the entrance to the alley, then sends him one last smile. Even covered in blood and dirt, she still looks more like a lost child than a heartless murderer.

"Thanks again for helping me,” she says as she starts to walk away. “I'm sorry I'm not a victim you've been expecting."

In no time, she’s gone, leaving behind nothing but an echo of her laugh. He doesn't try to shout after her – with his luck, it would just make the pigs find him faster.

Chapter Text

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

Fuck.

How could this happen? How could he be so stupid? Why didn’t he listen to all the warnings his mind kept screaming at him? To let some girl, a child, stab him! How much lower can a person fall?

This is what he gets for trying to play hero.

Generally, he enjoys having something long and hard inside of him, but this time, it’s anything but pleasant. His fingers are still clutched around the handle, as if that would somehow prevent him from falling apart, the pavement is harsh against his scrapped knees and the metallic smell of blood assaulting his nostrils is making him dizzy. It’s getting hard to breathe through the pain. The sounds that keep coming out of his mouth are raspy and ragged, and maybe a little wet too. He doesn’t try to cough.    

Fuck. He can't die here. He can’t. Can you imagine? By some miracle, he gets a chance to fix his life, something straight out of fanfiction, all to pathetically die in some back-alley brawl? That would be a new low, even for him. But, well, if anyone is unlucky enough for that fate, he supposes it would be him.

(It stings even more, to realize that this whole situation is basically proving his father right; to admit that there might have been some truth in his words Dabi so easily dismissed earlier. That, maybe, he really did grow overconfident. And that, in the end, his recklessness did end up biting him in the ass.)

Fuck. Is this really how he’s going to die? With his limited medical knowledge, he can’t quite tell how serious the injury is. There doesn’t seem to be as much blood as he would expect from an abdomen stab wound. Sure, his clothes are soaked and so are his hands, and the ground under him is speckled with red splashes, but it’s nothing like the dramatic pool of blood that dead boy's corpse is lying in. So, that’s good, right? Or maybe so little blood is actually a bad sign? Dabi has never been stabbed like this before, he wouldn't know.

He grits his teeth as he attempts to force his panicked thoughts to slow down. So what if there’s some blood? So what if there’s a dreadful cold penetrating and chilling all of his insides? It’s not the end of the world. He's been through worse. He’s already survived the impossible. He will not let some minor stabbing be the end of him.

The police sirens get louder and louder, too close for comfort. Someone must have finally called them. They're late, as always. There are no heroes, as always. It’s just the kind of place this is. Even now, he knows those officers aren’t coming here with an intention to stop the fight. They’re coming to clean up what’s left of it.

Fuck. He needs to run. They can't catch him here. He refuses to go down in such a stupid way, not after everything he’s been through. He did not get this far just to end up in jail for murders he didn't even commit.

With the way his legs are shaking – when did they start shaking? – standing up, let alone running anywhere, feels downright impossible. He’s not actually sure his limbs will listen to him even if he commands them to move. His sight is getting more and more blurry, which might be from blood loss, but might also be from that one kick his face took earlier. It’s a miracle he hasn’t passed out yet, with how erratically his heart is beating.

None of that is going to stop him though.

Hastily, he puts one of his bloody, trembling hands on the ground and, after taking a few seconds to brace himself, activates his quirk. The flames spread like, well, wildfire, and soon are covering the ground all around him, sizzling and devouring everything in their way. The heat causes him to sweat even more and soon, blue is the only thing he can see, and it’s a déjà vu he’s really not in the mood for right now.

Dizziness overtaking his mind, his control of the fire slips pretty much instantly. His nostrils are hit with the sickening, but oh so familiar smell of burning flesh even before his brain registers the new pain. Compared to the general agony of having a piece of metal stuck in your guts, causing you to slowly bleed out, a few burns on his hand are barely more than an afterthought. The fire might burn him a little, but it also turns the few splashes of his blood left on the ground into a (hopefully) untraceable dark mass, and that’s all he cares about.

When he’s certain no DNA could have possibly survived the heat, he forces the fire to flicker out. He’s a bit out of breath, just from that, and he has to blink back the few tears that appeared in his eyes uninvited, but he knows he can’t afford to rest. Every second he’s not moving is one second closer to being caught. Besides, this was the easy part. The worst is still ahead of him.

Bracing himself for the inevitable agony, Dabi wobblingly puts one of his feet on the ground, with one hand steadying him and helping him keep his balance, while pushing at the wound with the other. Everything hurts, and the touch to the wound only makes it worse, but that’s what you’re supposed to do, right, when you’re bleeding a lot? Apply pressure?

He has to bite his lip to stop himself from screaming as he clumsily manoeuvres the second leg in an attempt to stand up. As he straightens, a ripple of scalding pain cuts through his insides – the kind of pain that leaves him lightheaded and panting, and almost brings him back to his knees. Somehow though – most likely due to dumb luck – he manages to stay upright. Still, he takes a few seconds to let the worst pain pass before he goes on.

Once he’s reasonably sure he won't fall over the moment he moves, he quickly scans the surroundings for any escape routes. It’s painfully clear he doesn't have much time. Not only are the police sirens coming from much closer now, echoing dully in his ears like some twisted countdown, but his eyelids are also getting dangerously heavy. If he doesn't hurry, he will either drop dead or get caught. The jury is still out on which one he would prefer.

Unfortunately for him – because the world is always against him, always – there seem to be no escape routes. If he tried the same way the girl used, the opening leading to the main street, he would risk being spotted. Even if he somehow avoided the police, regular people would still be a problem. Shady district or not, a teenager with a knife sticking out of him would no doubt cause some alarm – which is the last thing he needs.

So, that leaves the other way. The alley is not a dead-end, but the path to the other exit is largely blocked by a variety of waste containers, old furniture, plastic bags full of unknown contents, and all the other garbage people decided to dump here. It would be a nightmare to shuffle through this mess, not to mention disgusting as hell. But what choice does he have? He could, theoretically, try the roof – there is a rusty ladder sitting conveniently over one of the larger bins and he knows people rarely think to look up – but even he’s not stupid enough to believe he would be able to climb it in his current state.

Through the trash it is, then. Great. It will be a miracle if he doesn't end up with some infection, especially with this whole open would business. He might have been a bit more concerned about that if he wasn't still at least half convinced he's going to die here anyway.

With the sirens almost deafening now, the itch to run grows unbearable. However, lightheaded from panic and blood loss or not, there’s enough sense in him left to realize that simply burning the blood from the ground isn’t enough to cover his tracks. And that, with his wound continuing to bleed, he would be leaving a trail behind. Which is unacceptable. Even one drop of blood could be enough to identify him, and then he would be even more fucked than he already is. He lets out a shuddering breath.

He knows what he has to do.  

He braces himself again, biting his lip pre-emptively to contain the inevitable screaming. Then, he puts both his hands under his hoodie and places them gently around the handle. It’s necessary, he reminds himself, while closing his eyes. If he doesn’t do it, he will be leading them straight to him.

Fire against his skin is the most familiar feeling in the world. There’s a metallic taste in his mouth from where he bites on his lip a little too hard, but that’s familiar too, almost pleasant. The sickening odour of burning flesh is back, significantly more intense, and it’s causing his stomach to stir, while at the same time, paradoxically, helping to clear his head. It hurts, of course it does, but at this point it’s hard to distinguish which pain is which, so he doesn’t bother, and instead lets his mind numb it all into one incoherent throbbing. The pain doesn’t matter. The important thing is that he cauterized the wound. And now, he needs to go.  

Dragging his feet with nothing but spite, Dabi begins his second most painful escape attempt in his life. Every wobbly step he makes is another nightmare. You never realize how much energy you truly need to walk until it just isn’t there anymore. He’s barely managing to keep himself up, grinding his teeth together as three words echo through his brain repeatedly, like a mantra: just one more, just one more, just one more. His heart is beating faster and faster with every second, so much so that, for a moment, he fears it might actually jump out of his chest.   

Somewhere in the back of his head, he wonders if he should try to force it to slow down. Quicker heartbeat means more blood being pumped through his veins, which in turns means more bleeding from the wound. Which is bad. Or something.

He almost trips over one of the black bags, but manages to steady himself over the garbage bin next to him at the last moment. After that, he makes sure to pay more attention to where he’s putting his feet – how embarrassing would that be, to get caught because he stumbled over someone’s piss-stained pants? Honestly, he would rather bleed out.

By the time he gets far enough into the mini-junkyard that he's moderately sure he isn't noticeable anymore, he's outright panting, his face soaked with sweat (and maybe, just maybe, a few stray tears). However, now that he has this tiny shred of safety, he finally allows himself to pause and rest for a moment. And, most importantly, to think.

What now? The cops might not immediately find him now, but he’s still very much dying and probably in dire need of medical attention. Only, he has no idea where to get that attention. He could, technically, just go to the hospital, since he isn't a villain anymore and getting stabbed isn't exactly illegal, but he's sure it wouldn't take the police long to connect him to this mess. A bunch of shady thugs, one of which, coincidentally, happens to have his face pretty severely burned turn up dead the same night a teenager with a powerful fire quirk and known vigilante tendencies lands in a hospital with a knife in his guts? Not suspicious at all, no sir. They would be onto him instantly. Not to mention Endeavor would surely find out and then, inevitably, his mother, and, really, she has enough worries as it is. So, hospital is a no.

But what else is left? The only underground doctor he knows is a disgusting old creep working for a literal psychopath, so that’s a no too. Normally, he would call Hawks when something like this happened, but, well, he can’t do it anymore, can he? Keigo wouldn’t be of much help anyway.

Perhaps Jin could help him...? But as much as the man seems to have taken a liking to him, Dabi doesn't think they are at the arriving-at-your-doorstep-with-a-stab-wound stage of their relationship just yet. Not to mention he has no idea when the man lives and no way to contact him since he doesn’t have his fucking phone.

Oh, how he wishes Eraser had just given him that damned thing back. Or at least deigned to show up. Ah, how the tables turn. Who would have thought there would ever come a day when he actually wanted the hero to come bother him? But, alas, heroes live to disappoint.

He doesn't know what to do. The alley's other end is close enough that he would be able to reach it if he forced it, but what then? There’s nowhere to go. His fingers are starting to get numb and he doesn't think it's a good sign. There's still not that much blood, small miracles, but both his shirt and his pants are soaked and his fingers are sticky. He knows he won’t last much longer.

It occurs to him then, with chilling quality, that he might actually be forced to reveal himself and let them catch him if he wants to survive. He’s not ready to entertain that possibility just yet.

The police must have arrived at the scene already because he starts hearing voices and he’s almost sure he’s not that crazy. He goes still, aware that if they notice even the slightest move in that dump, they won't hesitate to search it. If they actually cared about the people here, they would probably do it anyway, but Dabi’s hoping their laziness will come to his aid. All he needs to do is sit here, be quiet and wait.

Slowly, carefully, so as not to trip or make any suspicious noises, he grabs a disgusting old blanket that smells of alcohol and cat piss, and lowers himself to the ground with the wall as a support. A hiss escapes his mouth without his permission when the movement causes the knife to twist slightly, and he tenses, holding his breath, as he waits to see if anybody noticed.

Seconds pass and it doesn't seem like anyone did. He allows himself a moment to feel relieved, before continuing his attempt at sitting down, this time even more carefully. Once his ass meets the ground – or maybe it's another suspicious bag, he really doesn't give a shit anymore – he tilts his head back until it touches the wall and closes his eyes, trying to calm down as much as possible. One of the biggest waste containers covers him from his right, from where otherwise the police would be able see him, and he puts the disgusting blanket over himself to hide the rest. If he can't see them, they can't see him, or something like that.

Anyway. He's done it. He's mostly safe.

But what now?

His trembling fingers close around the handle of the knife before he can consciously think about it. Sure, it will hurt like hell and maybe it's not wise to risk anymore screaming with the pigs so close by, but with the weapon gone, he will be able to cauterize the wound fully and, hopefully, stop the bleeding completely, and maybe he won't die then. He's about to pull it out, already gritting his teeth and bracing for the inevitable agony, when something occurs to him. He... probably shouldn't do that, actually? If the knife pierced something vital, like an organ or an artery or... or something, pulling it out might make him bleed out faster. Or cause an internal bleeding? One of the two. That's what that one guy in that one movie said, anyway. Or maybe it was the other way around?

Fuck. His brain is getting all messed-up – more than normally, that is. He can’t really focus anymore and his thoughts, they’re... they’re... Something is wrong. Is he really going to die here? Shivers are wrecking his body, with ice still keeping a grip on his insides, and it clashes horribly with the general feeling of burning he gets from everywhere else. His face and neck and back and hell, everything, is disgustingly sweaty. It's still awfully warm outside, even at night.

He would kill for some good ice cream right now.

A frown twists his face. If he dies here, he won't get to eat anything ever again. He won't get to see the delight on his brothers' faces over something as trivial as a walk outside. He won't get to tease Fuyumi for having a crush, and to hold her when she inevitably gets her heart broken for the first time. He won't get to help his mother get better or bring his father to justice. He would be leaving Hawks without an explanation, again.

He wonders if Aizawa will feel guilty, once he realizes that the damned phone he took from him could have saved Dabi’s life. Honestly, some part of him wants him to. The hero shouldn't have given him hope and then just left him to die. He was so adamant about ‘saving’ Dabi every time they met, yet the one time Dabi truly needs his help, the man isn’t there.

(Logically, he knows it isn't really Aizawa's fault. If he was smarter, if he had thought things through more, if he had listened to the shit they were teaching him at that stupid school, this would have never happened.

If he wasn’t a sentimental fool, if he hadn’t decided to play the hero, he wouldn’t be dying now.

Everyone kept warning him that he was getting overconfident and took too many risks, and he’s been so sure all those risks were calculated.

Turns out he's just bad at math.)

Fuck. What is he even doing? He can't die. Not like this. Why is he wallowing in self-pity instead of acting?

Since when is he letting something as trivial as death stop him?

He puts his fingers inside the hole the knife made in his t-shirt and pulls at the ends to make it bigger. The fabric doesn’t put up much of a fight, even faced with the pathetic levels of strength he can muster right now, and lets him tear it almost completely, revealing his bruised stomach and, of course, the stab wound. Even though he does it with an intention to see it, he still winces at the sight. It's a bloody mess. The knife didn't go in with its entire length, thank fuck, but it's still buried deep.

Once again, he briefly considers ripping it out and sealing the rest of the wound with his fire. It's been almost what, five minutes, since the bleeding started? If he can't stop it soon, the blood loss will inevitably make him even more useless than he already is. It could potentially help keep him alive a little bit longer. Or, the negative part of him adds, if the movies are right, it could actually speed up the process. From his limited biology knowledge, he would assume the knife didn't puncture anything vital, but the truth is, he wouldn't trust his knowledge on any school subject on a good day, let alone with his mind all cotton-like and foggy as it is now. He sure as hell isn't about to bet his life on it.

Deciding he’s not yet desperate enough to risk it, he instead takes a moment to examine the wound. It’s ugly, obviously, but not as bad as he would expect. Granted, he can't see much else other than blood, some black burnt skin, and some muscle tissue, so he’s not about to make any judgements. It’s probably not critical? As long as it’s treated, that is, which, you know, kinda sucks. Because he has no way to get it treated. So, death in a dumpster it is.

He pokes at it a little more, trying to guess if it might have gotten infected, but it’s impossible to tell. It doesn’t look like it is, which he takes as a good sign, but just to be safe, he makes sure to keep it as far away from the disgusting blanket as humanly possible. His medical knowledge might be non-existent, but even he knows that open wounds and smelly trash don’t mix well.  

He continues applying pressure to the wound from both sides of the knife, hoping to slow down the bleeding, and just... waits. It hurts like a bitch, naturally, but at least he's sure that's what he's supposed to be doing. The partial cauterizing he did earlier is helping too. Although, now that he thinks about it, it’s probably going to make removing it later so much more painful. The scar will be ugly too.

Well. ‘Fuck’ sounds like a pretty good summary of what he's feeling right now. He can't reasonably wait here until the pigs are gone – it's a murder crime scene. Lazy or not, uncaring or not, the police have procedures they need to follow, so they're likely going to be here for hours. And Dabi doesn't have hours. He probably has like, twenty minutes at best, before he passes out and dies.  

Alright. Plan. He needs a plan. Too bad he doesn't even know where to begin. The only other time his nightly activities got him something more severe than bruises – while dealing with some pathetic gang of wannabe human traffickers – the situation was quite different. Sure, he got shot, but it wasn't really that serious, you know? The bullet went right through and it wasn't a very vital place anyway. Nothing his fire, a bottle of vodka and some bandages couldn’t deal with. And he’s already ruled out that particular strategy.   

Maybe he could borrow someone’s phone? But he doesn’t know any numbers by heart and it would still involve moving, which he isn’t inclined to do right now, so really, all that he has left is...

"And you have no idea who could have done it?"

A very familiar drawl suddenly cuts through the haze in his mind, stopping him mid-thought and making his heart race with renewed hope. The voice is not loud, barely audible from where he’s hiding, and very obviously tired, but to Dabi, the man might as well be screaming.  

It seems like, although awfully late, Aizawa has finally arrived.

It seems like, Dabi might not be dying after all.

(Hopefully. It could be a hallucination of Dabi’s poor, blood-deprived brain. But he doesn't think it is.)

(He would like to think his last thought before dying would be of something more pleasant. Hawks’ arms around him. The League’s cheering after another drunken gaming tournament. His siblings’ laughter. Endeavor’s dead body. You know, something nice. Not Aizawa’s bitching.)

The hard part now is attracting the hero’s attention without attracting anyone else's. He can’t just scream for help – even Aizawa’s presence wouldn’t prevent him from getting arrested for this if the police found him. Which means he needs to do something that would only alert Eraser and no one else.

The question is how the fuck is he supposed to do that?

He could... he could pretend to be a cat? That would definitely catch Aizawa's attention, if what he heard about the man is true. He does have a pretty believable meow too, if he says so himself. It could work.

Wait, no. What is he thinking? Of course it’s not going to work. It’s completely ridiculous. Is his brain really so fried already or has he always been such an idiot? Why would he even consider something like that? There must be something else he can do. Some other, less dumb, way to get the man’s attention. For example, he could...

Well, he could try...

Maybe he could...

Fuck.

Is he really doing this? It's stupid, so, so stupid, but it’s not like he has any better ideas. By now, he needs to cover his mouth with his hand because his breathing is so frantic – and yet it feels as though no oxygen is actually getting in – so he shouldn't be expecting his brain to work very well. It doesn't work that well even without the blood loss.

Trying to slow down the annoying panting, Dabi readies himself for running if this whole thing goes south. Not that he's expecting to get very far – he would probably trip on something the second he got up (if he even managed to get up) – but he won't be going down without a fight. Even a pitifully short one.

Alright. Time to see if the last braincell in his head was pranking him or not. Really, what does he have to lose?

"Meow," he croaks, cringing internally at his own idiocy. It ends up sounding more like a moan of pain than an actual cat noise, but he will take what he can get. Just to make sure, he adds another one, "Meow!"

Oh god. This is so dumb. Why is he so dumb? It's never going to work.

"Hey, Takashi, did you hear that?" someone who Dabi assumes is a police officer says sharply, and he tenses, straining his ears to hear the entire conversation.

"What?"

“I heard something.”

“What? I didn’t hear anything. You sure?”

"Yeah, I definitely heard something. It was coming from that garbage pile."

"Ugh, that?” the other man pauses, probably grimacing in disgust. “Well, we should probably check it out, I guess. It might be our criminal."

Shit, shit, shit. Of course it wasn’t going to work. What was he thinking?!

"No, I—I think it was a cat."

And then, miraculously.

"A cat?" Aizawa cuts in, sounding way more interested than when he was talking about the murder.

"Yeah, it came right from there."

Not having anything to lose, Dabi shrugs mentally and repeats his awesome 'meow'.

"See?"

"I don't know," the second officer hesitates. "Are you sure it's not a criminal? We should still check it."

The first one huffs. "Why would a hiding criminal meow at us?"

"Well, I don't know! But I also don't know why they would kill someone! It’s not like they’re normal people!"

A moment of silence.

"I guess that's a fair point. Maybe we should check it."

"You're right, of course," Aizawa interrupts them again, unusually eager. "We should definitely check it. Let me do it. If it's really a criminal, I will have an easier time dealing with them. And if it's really a cat, then, well..."

And wow, Aizawa really sounds like he hopes it’s a cat. It almost saddens Dabi that he will have to disappoint him.

On the other hand, it looks like his stupid plan actually worked. If he's being honest, he totally wasn't expecting that. He doesn't really know how to feel. Still like an idiot, definitely, but a little less, now that he knows there are people even dumber than him. He makes sure to thank his beloved braincell – he couldn't have done it without her.

The distinctive sounds of boots stepping on trash alert him that Aizawa is getting closer. There are muffled grumblings coming from the man that Dabi only barely hears, accompanied by some impressive cat-attracting noises, which only add to Dabi’s weird guilt about deceiving the poor hero. Just as he thinks the man is about to reach him, the sounds cut off abruptly as Aizawa bumps into something and swears loudly.

"Everything alright in there?!" the first officer shouts.

"Fine!" Aizawa replies curtly.

A moment later there's another crashing sound and another curse, this time a quieter one. And then another one. And another one.

Who would have thought Eraser could be so clumsy? Dabi didn't bump into so many things on his way here and he had a knife in his stomach.

Finally, after this strange kind of fond amusement almost entirely replaces the pain in Dabi's mind, Aizawa appears before his eyes. The man doesn’t notice him at first – Dabi's still covered by the dirty blanket and Aizawa instantly gets busy rummaging through a cardboard box under the wall on the other side of the alley. Dabi’s just about to throw the blanket off to announce his presence when he realizes he can't quite move his hands anymore. He blinks, dumbfounded, and it turns out his eyelids are not very willing to cooperate either. There's a weird ringing in his ears but, surprisingly, no more sounds of crushed garbage – actually, if he thinks about it, he can't really hear much of anything.

Wouldn’t it be so nice to just let himself rest a little? Let his eyes close for a moment? Maybe he doesn't have to fight it so much. Maybe he doesn’t have to fight anything anymore. It seems like, his entire life, fighting is all he ever does. Doesn’t he deserve a break? Just a short nap, no more than five minutes. Surely it can’t hurt?

He's so fucking tired.  

Fuck. Wait. No. He can’t go to sleep. Not yet. He promised himself he wasn’t going to die so easily, didn’t he? And Aizawa is almost heading back! He needs to do something. He needs to make a sound, he needs to catch his attention, just one more stupid meow would be enough – but his mouth isn't cooperating.

(He did spend his entire life fighting, that much is true.

And he sure as hell isn't going to stop now.)

Only half-consciously, Dabi's beloved braincell gives him one last bright idea. It notices that his hands are still pressing on the wound. It conjures a cursed image of what he could do with them. It assures him there’s no way he won’t make at least a bit of a sound if he tries that. Dabi has no choice but to believe it.

And so, with herculean effort, he forces two of his fingers to move just a bit and thrusts them inside the wound. 

And fuck, does it hurt.

"Holy shit!" he hisses, only by some miracle remembering not to scream out loud. But his mind is much clearer now, pain slashing through the fog, clear enough to curse at him for almost giving up. Was his stupid, weak body really going to lay down and die? Not on his watch.

Aizawa’s head instantly snaps back, quirk activated and scarf in hands, ready to strike. With his black hair hovering around his head like some sort of fucked-up tentacles, eyes glowing this cold, inhuman red, and his silhouette wrapped in shadows, he looks more like a villain than a hero. Combined with the sharp expression on his face, he's perfectly terrifying.

"Wh... s... ere?"

Dabi narrows his eyes, trying to decipher what exactly the man is saying to him, annoyed that the sound of blood rushing through his head is still drowning out everything else. He forces his numb hands to move one last time, even if it feels like they’re made out of stone, and slowly, aware that Aizawa won’t hesitate to attack at the slightest provocation, curls his fingers around the edge of the filthy blanket and pulls it to the side.

"Eraser. So nice to see you," is what he attempts to say, but the gibberish that comes out of his mouth sounds more like babbling of a child.

Aizawa's eyes widen comically once they land on him and he immediately drops his weapon. There’s a frown on his face as he takes a few seconds to assess the situation, and once his glance focuses for a particularly long moment on the knife sticking out of Dabi’s stomach, a curse escapes his mouth again. If he wasn’t currently busy dying, Dabi would be proud of the man’s naughty vocabulary.

Kicking away some more garbage to clear his way, Aizawa approaches him quickly and kneels in front of him, his calm facade doing nothing to hide the sudden panic in his eyes.

"Shit," the hero says, his eyebrows creased, as his gloved hands gently examine the wound. "How... ong... it’s happened?"  

"Like... ten... minutes?"

Cursing again, Aizawa doesn’t waste any time before putting his hands around the knife and pushing, much harder than Dabi was able to on his own. Which hurts. A lot.

"Fuck, stop that!" he still doesn't scream but it's a close thing. Every breath he forces out brings him even more pain and, fuck, his eyes are getting watery again. Which, he would rather die than cry in front of a hero, weirdly nice one or not.

Eraser ignores his weak protests and doesn't stop pressing. Dabi doesn't have enough strength to push him away.

"I need to apply pressure," the man explains patiently, even as his frown deepens. "You lost a lot of blood. We need to—"

Before Aizawa can tell him what exactly they need to do, someone's concerned voice interrupts him, "Hey, Eraserhead, are you alright?"

"Fine!" Aizawa immediately shouts back, in a tone much calmer than Dabi would have expected. "It's just a cat."

"Well, then come back here!"

Gritting his teeth in frustration, Aizawa hesitates for a moment before replying, "It's hurt. I think its leg is broken. It won’t survive if I leave it here. I'm gonna get it some help. You two finish here on your own.”

There’s a moment of tense silence, probably the two officers consulting each other, then, "Fine! But be careful!"

And with that, both Dabi and Aizawa exhale in relief. The last thing they need right now is nosy policemen getting in their way.

Aizawa's attention is instantly back on the wound, but Dabi can’t help but grin to himself at the ridiculousness of this whole situation. Seem like he’s officially became a cat, huh? It’s such a dumb excuse. He can’t believe they fell for it. His meowing abilities must be even better than he thought, he thinks to himself proudly. It’s such a hilarious realization that, without really understanding what he's doing, Dabi turns his brain off and does what is probably the most embarrassing thing in his entire life.

He meows again.

Predictably, Eraser's head jumps up in surprise and although his expression is blank, the look of pure judgement in his eyes is almost more painful than the stab wound.

God, this is going to haunt him for eternity. Meow? Seriously? What is wrong with him? Is this what he’s become? Big bad villain Dabi, first gets stabbed by a teenager and then meows at his rescuer. Pathetic.

(You know, when he thinks about it like that, maybe dying here wouldn't be such a bad thing. At least then he would never have to look Eraser in the eyes again.)

"I know you're probably dizzy and tired but I need you to focus," the hero orders, mercifully choosing to ignore the whole meowing situation. "We need to get you to the hospital and–"

"No," Dabi cuts the man off sharply, grabbing his wrist as a warning. "No... hospitals."

"Kid, you're bleeding out," Aizawa replies flatly, visibly running out of patience. "You have a knife in your stomach. You need to go to the hospital."

Dabi tightens his grip on the man's wrist and tries for an intimidating face. "No. Hospitals."

Their eyes meet in what would normally be a heater staring battle, but is now nothing more than a pitiful attempt at gaining some control on Dabi’s part. He knows he’s in no position to stop Aizawa if he insists on taking him to the hospital, no matter how much he protests – and it’s pretty obvious Aizawa is the type of person to risk losing someone’s trust if it means saving them. Which means arguing is not going to convince him.   

"Please," he chooses to beg instead, because Aizawa is a bleeding heart and can (probably) be reasoned with. "Come on, you see—," a sudden cough cuts him off and he heaves for a moment before continuing, "You see what it looks like. They will think I killed them."

Aizawa is silent for a while. There’s a storm wreaking havoc behind his dark eyes, something harsh and dangerous, and conflicted. His face goes through numerous different expressions before finally settling on one that looks a bit pained but mostly just constipated.

His voice is just as weird when he finally asks, "Did you?"

"No," Dabi huffs, rolling his eyes – or attempting to, because it turns out to be a very bad idea and now the world is spinning, and he's feeling almost like he's about to faint. "No hospitals," he repeats groggily, before his body finally gives out and blissful darkness overtakes him.

***

You know how in the movies people pass out from their injuries and then wake up completely bandaged and mostly fine, greeted by their loved ones standing dutifully by their side, ready to comfort them?

Well, Dabi's life is clearly not a movie, because when he wakes up, the only thing that greets him is more pain.

"Fuck," softly escapes from his mouth as he closes his eyes to try and escape reality for a little bit longer.

At least he's not dead. Which, right now, he’s not sure he’s that happy about it.

“Oh, you’re alive,” a dry voice comments from somewhere above him, as if reading his mind, and that’s when Dabi realizes he’s being bridal-carried in Aizawa’s arms. If he wasn’t currently fighting the urge to puke from all the pain, he would probably be embarrassed about it.  

Suddenly, there’s a bump in a road and Aizawa’s grip on him tightens as he steadies them, but it does little to prevent his wound from yelling in agony. Dabi hisses at the shot of even more painful pain (is that even a thing? he wonders somewhere in his half-conscious brain can pain be less or more painful?) than before and attempts to send Aizawa a glare. His saviour mutters a silent apology, but doesn’t seem all that guilty.

“Where are you taking me?” he manages to slur eventually, squinting his eyes in an effort to see anything beyond the annoying blur that’s settled over them.

“My house,” the hero replies, just as his steps begin to slow down. Despite him clearly trying to hide it, Dabi can hear the fatigue in the man’s voice as well as feel the strain in his muscles. He’s starting to worry – he really doesn’t want to be dropped, especially not in the state he’s in – when suddenly Aizawa halts, letting out a relieved sigh. “We’re here.”

After a lot of careful manoeuvring, Eraser manages to free one of his hands for long enough to ring the bell. It must have taken a lot more effort than the man anticipated because he stumbles a little – which may or may not almost give Dabi a small heart attack – before promptly regaining his balance and straightening himself back up.

“Sorry,” the man mumbles again and this time he’s noticeably out of breath. If Dabi could see anything beyond the stupid black dots, he bets he would notice streaks of sweat running down the hero’s face. “Just to warn you, my partner might not—”

“Shouta!” a very loud voice interrupts him as the door slams open and while at first it sounds joyful, it quickly turns frantic as the owner of it properly takes in what’s in front of him. “Shouta, what the hell?!”

The screaming man is waving his hands around, a thousand questions leaving his mouth at rapid speed, and while he doesn’t look very familiar – right now, he just kind of looks like a blob of yellow – Dabi has enough brains left to figure out it must be Aizawa’s husband, Present Mic. He winces from the sudden assault on his ears, but no one seems to be paying him any mind.

“It’s a long story,” Aizawa states instead of answering any of his partner’s questions and takes a few unstable steps forward. “There’s no time, he’s losing a lot of blood. I will explain later.”

“Fine, fine, come on,” the presumed-Present-Mic agrees, hurriedly ushering them inside and closing the door behind them with a loud thud. He hovers over Aizawa protectively the entire way to the living room, ready to catch them if Aizawa’s arms do end up giving up on him. This is what true love looks like, Dabi thinks to himself dryly.

They travel through a dark corridor for a while and suddenly, a blinding light is assaulting Dabi’s poor eyes, forcing him to shut them immediately. On instinct, he attempts to cover them with his arm, but the movement jolts his wound badly enough to make him gasp and, just like that, he remembers why that was not a good idea.

“Don’t move, idiot,” Aizawa scolds him through gritted teeth, his breath getting more and more winded with every step. Dabi’s trying really hard not to be offended. Surely he isn’t that fat?

“Put him on the couch,” orders the husband, making a quick job of pushing off the few spare cushions, a blanket and a bowl of popcorn.

Damn, they must have ruined that guy’s movie night, huh? Admittedly, it’s a bit late to be up at this hour, but it’s not like Dabi has any room to judge. If he survives the night, he might even apologize to the guy. He certainly wouldn’t want any dying kids to interrupt his Drag Race marathons.

“It’s gonna get all bloody,” Eraser protests, which is a weird thing to be concerned about when a teenager is dying in your arms, but okay.

“I will buy you a new couch,” Dabi offers blearily, but the words don’t really come out like they’re supposed to.

Still, Aizawa does put him down on the couch, so maybe he did understand him. Or maybe it was that or dropping him on the floor.

Being laid down is both great and awful. Great, because the couch is surprisingly comfortable, soft and squishy, and stable, with nothing jolting him every second. Awful, because even though Eraser is trying to be gentle, it still ends up hurting like shit.

“Oh, fuck,” he moans, clutching at the wound desperately as if that would somehow lessen his suffering. Predictably, it only makes it worse.

“You have a really foul mouth for a kid, you know?” Aizawa comments dryly, still a bit out of breath. He wipes the sweat from his forehead and starts taking his scarf off.  

Dabi snorts (ignoring the fact that it immediately turns into a groan of pain). “Try getting stabbed, we will see how nice your vocabulary’s gonna be.”

“You shouldn’t talk right now,” Present Mic says as he walks back into the room – when did he leave...? – carrying with him a large towel and a bottle of water. He kneels down by the couch, gently puts Dabi’s hands away from the wound and starts examining it, humming something to himself. He pours some of the water on the wound, presumably to clean it, and then presses the towel to it, much firmer than Dabi’s useless noodle-arms ever could. “Oh dear, that’s not looking good. Seriously, what happened? Why isn’t he in the hospital?”

Aizawa crosses his arms. “Ask him.”

Dabi’s weak attempt at a glare gets ignored by the hero, who by now has his phone out and is tapping something on it hurriedly. This whole attitude is really starting to piss Dabi off. It’s not like Aizawa doesn’t know why he can’t  go to the hospital with this. So why is he acting like this is some stupid, childish whim?

“I don’t— fuck, shit!— I don’t want to go to jail,” he pants, clenching his fists as he tries to breathe through the pain. Despite his protests, Present Mic doesn’t stop pressing, focused on slowing down the bleeding. Dabi’s pretty sure it’s not as bad as before, since he doesn’t think he will pass out anytime soon, but the towel is still getting red concerningly fast. “Good enough... reason... for you?”

The look Present Mic throws Eraser is both exasperated and judgmental. Which is probably a good thing. Aizawa definitely needs someone to keep him in check, what with his ‘saving every child in need no matter the risk’ tendencies. Not that Dabi isn’t grateful or anything, he’s definitely glad to have been saved, but still. It can’t be healthy.

“I’m going to guess that this is the vigilante kid you’ve been taking about, isn’t it?”

Aizawa talks about him? To his husband? To his husband, who also happens to be another hero? About his little vigilante acquaintance – an acquaintance that, for some reason, he never bothered to arrest? About what, about how Dabi constantly threatens to set him on fire? Or maybe about that one time he almost did set him on fire? And the guy is still helping him? What the hell?

“Unfortunately,” Aizawa replies, still engrossed in his phone, with his finger hovering over something uncertainly.

“Figures,” Present Mic mumbles under his breath, but it’s more fond than annoyed. Then, he grabs the bottle with his free hand and holds it against Dabi’s lips. “Here, drink this.”

Only now realizing how dry his throat has become, he obediently opens his mouth and allows Present Mic to pour sweet, wonderful, amazing water into it. Drinking hurts, but he barely notices, so overwhelmed by the relief he didn’t even know he needed. He consumes as much of it as physically possible, spilling some all over himself in the process, and soon, the bottle is empty.

Satisfied, Present Mic nods and puts the bottle away, then turns to Aizawa with a frown. “This isn’t a wound we can treat at home, Shouta. Hell, there’s still a knife inside of him! What’s the plan here?”

Aizawa is silent, long enough for the alarm bells in Dabi’s head to go off. “I’m going to call Recovery Girl.”

Yeah, no way, Dabi thinks to himself, attempting to sit up – and ignoring the pain the movement causes – as he shoots both of the men his most vicious glare.

“Wait, wait, wait, just wait a hot minute there. That’s the UA’s nurse, isn’t it?” He’s heard about her and about the power she holds. He’s not stupid, he knows she’s probably his best chance at surviving, but, honestly, he would rather die than allow anyone from that damned school to put a single finger on him. “I refuse. You can’t bring her here.”

“Your opinion has been duly noted,” Aizawa informs him in that annoying deadpan tone of his and then he finally dials the number, leaving the room as he does so, all too aware that Dabi can’t do anything to stop him.

In an effort to show his displeasure, Dabi groans loudly (and this time it’s only half from the pain) and then allows himself to fall back on the couch. Why? Why must the universe hate him so much? First, he’s getting fucking stabbed and now he’s gonna have to deal with some creepy old lady? What’s next? His math teacher coming in to tell him he failed another test?

“Recovery Girl won’t report you or anything, don’t worry,” Present Mic attempts to reassure him, offering him a friendly smile and a little pat on his shoulder. Dabi realizes he must have overestimated him. It seems like, after all, he’s just as much of a saving people maniac as his husband.

“I don’t care. She’s still from UA. I hate UA.”

The man’s face does something weird. “You... are aware that both Shouta and I teach at UA, right?”

Dabi doesn’t answer.

***

Somewhere between whining about his life being unfair and bleeding, Dabi must have fallen asleep again – ‘passed out’ is really such an ugly word – because the next time he opens his eyes, there’s a short, wrinkly person right in front of him.

He tries not to yelp in horror at the unexpected sight, but his control of his body is kind of messed-up right now, so he ends up flinching and causing himself even more pain anyway. He swears he can see that woman smile at his misfortune.

“Ah, hello there, dear,” she says cheerfully, her tiny hands busy cutting through the rest of his t-shirt, presumably to be able to better see the wound. Well, he hopes that’s the reason she’s undressing him in his sleep. Because otherwise he will have to murder her and he’s sure Aizawa wouldn’t appreciate him burning down his living room. “I must say, I hoped you weren’t going to wake up just yet. This is going to hurt quite a lot, I’m afraid.”

“What...?” he starts mumbling but then he’s rudely interrupted.

By his own scream.

Because suddenly there is no longer a knife in his stomach. There is a knife in that woman’s hand though. Because she’s just ripped it out of him. With no warning.

“What the fuck,” he moans, noticing with disdain that there are tears rolling down his face. That damn sadist. He knew he was right not to trust anyone from UA. They were all heartless psychopaths.

He really thought his suffering couldn’t get any worse today. He was wrong. At least now he knows the answer to that question he had earlier – there is definitely something like more painful pain. And, unfortunately, he’s in the middle of experiencing it.

“Language,” Aizawa, who appears out of nowhere, scolds him, although there’s a concerned crease to his eyebrows when he looks down at the bloody mess that used to be Dabi’s stomach.

“Fuck you.”

“Teenagers these days, I swear.” Recovery Girl shakes her head mournfully, acting like she can’t see Dabi literally dying from pain right in front of her. “You were the same when you were his age, Aizawa.”

Eraser starts to protest – or at least Dabi thinks he does, because suddenly there’s cotton in his ears again and he can’t quite hear much of anything. He blinks and is annoyed to find that the black dots in his sight are back, tempting him to close his eyes and succumb to the darkness. He blinks again to fight them, but then his body is wrecked by a violent shiver. Everything in him is freezing again – everything except for the wound, which is burning with an intensity rivalling his flames.   

“It’s alright, dear,” the woman’s voice reaches him, but it’s muffled and like it’s coming from far, far away. “I know it hurts. Just relax. It will be over soon.”

And when he blinks again, he finally manages to get some clarity back. He regrets it immediately though, once he notices the big, disgusting lips getting closer and closer to his face.

He doesn’t even get an opportunity to scream before Recovery Girl places a wet kiss on his forehead – something that is sure to haunt him in his nightmares, no doubt – and immediately, his body turns heavy, exhausted beyond measure.

The last thing he sees before surrendering to the darkness is a fluffy black cat, staring at him judgmentally from the other end of the couch.       

***

It’s hard to say how much time passes before he opens his eyes again. The room is still dark, so it couldn’t have been that long, but to him, it feels like he must have slept for ages. He doesn’t remember the last time he’s felt this warm and comfortable. He’s so used to constant aching and stress that it almost creeps him out a little.

He blinks a few times to chase away the black spots from his vision and this time, they actually go away. The sight that meets him is not much better though. He takes a few seconds to criticize the boring ceiling before he takes a peek downwards and immediately decides he was probably better off not seeing. There’s a fluffy blanket covering his naked chest – and that in itself would be totally fine – but this particular blanket has hundreds of cartoonish cat faces printed on it. Must be Eraser’s idea of a joke. Or, maybe, the man is actually obsessed enough that he doesn’t own any normal blankets. The second theory seems much more likely, especially once he notices the black cat he’s seen earlier is currently sleeping peacefully by his feet.  

He smiles a little at the adorable creature, then carefully, as to not startle his furry companion and, you know, not cause himself any pain, puts his hand where the wound is supposed to be. He’s quite surprised to be met with no discomfort at all. Curiously, he traces the skin on his stomach with his fingers and is quick to find out that what used to be an open gash intent on taking his life is now nothing more than a thin scar.

Hm. That woman’s quirk is definitely something else. He might even forgive her for that awful kiss, if that’s what he gets in return. It’s actually insane, how good he feels for someone who’s been impaled by a knife only a few hours ago. If they had someone like this in the League... Well, anything would be better than that creepy old doctor.  

He sighs, closing his eyes for a moment. The thought of some more peaceful sleep is tempting him, but he knows he needs to leave. The blood loss has made him careless, but now that his mind is a little clearer, it strikes him how vulnerable he’s allowed himself to get. Sleeping in a hero’s house, with two more heroes aware of his presence, basically on their mercy? Sure, to them, he’s just some rebellious teenager, not a high-rank villain, but he’s still breaking the law, so they would have every reason to turn him in. Friendly or not, trusting heroes is never a good idea. He really should have learnt it by now.

There doesn’t seem to be anyone else in the room right now, he concludes. They’re probably still sleeping off the events of the night. He should be able to sneak out before anyone notices. He knows they’re going to ask him questions if he stays, and he’s not in the mood to answer them. Besides, it must be pretty late. He really should be heading home if he doesn’t want his family to notice his mysterious disappearance. That would be a hell to explain, and despite how much he’s slept already, he’s still so fucking tired. Definitely too tired to deal with anymore bullshit today. 

Just as he’s about to quietly escape from the warmth of that cat blanket and aim for the front door, a pair of voices accompanied by light footsteps make him freeze in place.

“I’m really not questioning your abilities, madame—”

“It seems to me that’s exactly what you’re doing, dear,” Recovery Girl, because of course she’s still here, answers Aizawa, with much more cheek than Dabi would expect of a goody two shoes like her.

None of them sound like they have been asleep recently, which comes as a surprise, because hasn’t Eraser been exhausted after dragging Dabi all the way here? Besides, it must be either the middle of the night or very early in the morning. And yet, these two seem perfectly well-rested. What are they, fucking robots? And Dabi could have sworn it was evil that’s supposed to never sleep.

“He’s been out for hours now. It has never taken this long before.”

“Stop worrying so much, the boy is fine,” Recovery Girl assures him, fondly exasperated. Dabi can almost hear her rolling her eyes and has to muffle a snort. “He’s lost a lot of blood, so he needs to rest a little longer to get it all back. He will wake up before you know it.”

The two fall into a momentary silence that Dabi likes to imagine means they are having a heated battle of stares. Surprisingly, he finds himself rooting for the old lady. After all, she seems to be the reasonable one out of the two of them. Who would have thought Eraser was such a worrywart?

A few tense seconds pass, then Aizawa clears his throat, and when he finally speaks, his voice is subdued, “What if he won’t?”     

"He will," Recovery Girl insists, gently but firmly. Again, there’s this fond exasperation in her voice, as though she’s well used to the man’s excessive fretting. Considering Aizawa is teaching in a hero course, she probably deals with him a lot. Dabi feels for her. “The boy is stronger than you think. He will be fine.”   

Dabi has never thought he would be grateful to some creepy old lady for keeping Eraser in check, but here he is, rolling his eyes so hard he’s afraid they might get stuck like this. Why the hell does the hero care so much anyway? It’s not like they’re friends or anything. Dabi isn’t his responsibility. He shouldn’t– 

"You don't know that," Aizawa says, sounding like a pouting toddler, and fuck this, really.

"I know that," Dabi informs them, done with playing dead, because if he has to listen to Aizawa crying over him or whatever, he would have to bleach his brain and nobody wants that. "Some little knife isn't going to kill me so easily."

For some reason, the woman sends him an unimpressed look. "It was four inches."

He waves his hand dismissively. "Details." Still mindful of the cat, he slowly sits up and sends them a cheeky grin. “I’m alive, aren’t I? So it’s fine.”

“It is certainly not fine,” Aizawa growls, coming closer to the couch and levelling him with an impressive glare. “You almost died. There’s nothing—"

But Dabi isn’t listening, because that’s when he realizes the darkness in the room did not stem from the outside still being dark, like he initially assumed, but from the closed curtains. And he can clearly see the sun trying to break in from behind those curtains.  

“Fuck, I need to go,” he mutters under his nose, interrupting whatever speech Aizawa is giving him, as he hurriedly tries to unwrap himself from that damned blanket.

God, he’s a dead man. Forget the stabbing, his death will be much, much worse. And it will happen soon. Very soon. As soon as he comes back home and needs to explain to his mother why he wasn’t at home tonight.

“You’re not going anywhere before you explain what happened.”

Aizawa places a hand on his shoulder in an attempt to get him to lie down again, eyebrows furrowed in displeasure, but Dabi smacks his hand away and goes to stand up anyway. His fight with the blanket serves to wake up the cat and it meows in protest, but Dabi can’t even feel guilty about it. He has to get home, now. Maybe they haven’t noticed his absence yet. Maybe he can still save himself.

The hero sighs, his face full of resignation. “Are you even listening to me? You’re in no state to walk.”

“I will be fine,” Dabi dismisses him, attempts to take a few steps and promptly falls on his face.

He’s lucky there’s a soft carpet on the floor, because otherwise this would have been much more unpleasant. As it is, only his palms and need throb a little, and his face ends up smashed against the beige fluffiness.  

“Yes, I can see that,” comes Aizawa’s sarcastic reply. Dabi can hear the smug smirk in his voice.

“Shut up.”

Can the ground just swallow him whole, please? How is he ever going to look Eraser in the eye again after all of the humiliation from today? Why is this happening to him? Getting stabbed wasn’t enough? Does the world really hate him this much?

“Get up, you’re going to dirty my floor.”

When Aizawa’s heartless words are followed by nothing but a groan from Dabi, the man sighs and grabs him by his shoulders, attempting to haul him up.

Key word: attempting.

“Leave me alone,” Dabi whines, fighting against the hero’s efforts, intent on remain on the floor forever. “I’m trying to die.”

Aizawa’s voice is utterly unimpressed. “Haven’t you been doing that for the whole night already?”

The hero’s attitude right now might be cold and indifferent, but he’s not fooling Dabi. Not when his obsessive worrying is still fresh in Dabi’s mind. Try as he might to hide it, it’s obvious that, for some unfathomable reason, the man cares – in his own weird way. Which makes his whole callous act now all the more embarrassing.

(Then again, Dabi’s face is currently buried in the man’s carpet. He’s has no room to talk about being embarrassing.)

“What on earth is happening here?” Present Mic exclaims groggily, rubbing at his eyes as though unsure whether they’re deceiving him or not. His hair are in a messy bun and he’s wearing Eraser-themed pyjamas. They must be custom made, because as far as Dabi is aware, Aizawa doesn’t have official merch. His words are followed by a large yawn.

It seems their antics must have woken him up. Poor guy. It must be hard having Eraser as a husband – apparently, it means getting dragged into a lot of drama he probably has no interest in. Dabi would have pitied him more if it wasn’t obvious the guy chose it for himself.

“Our dear guest seems to be in a hurry to leave,” Recover Girl explains helpfully, not even trying to hide her smile. “Despite the fact that he can’t even walk properly.”

“Don’t worry, we’re not going to call the police on you,” Present Mic says, heading to the open kitchen on the left and, from the sounds of it, starting a coffee machine. “Shouta says you’re a good kid. A little misguided, but you know. We all have our flaws.”

“It’s not about that.” Sighing, Dabi uses whatever strength he has left in his macaroni arms to push himself up. He very ostensibly ignores the hand Aizawa extends him in a silent offer of help. “I need to go home. My parents are already going to kill me and, besides, I have school today. Keigo’s going to freak out if I miss it.”

All Aizawa does in response to his very rational reasoning is raise an eyebrow. “I really don’t think you will be going anywhere in that state.” 

Yeah, Dabi has his doubts too. The wound might be nothing but a faint scar now – it seems that scars are a constant in his life, no matter what version of it – but his limbs still refuse to work properly and he’s having trouble keeping his eyes open. From what he knows, it’s an effect of Recovery Girl’s quirk – it will heal most wounds, but in exchange, it will leave the person absolutely exhausted.

“Give me back my phone,” he orders Aizawa as he suddenly remembers what this entire excursion was initially for. The man appears confused by this abrupt change of topic, but doesn’t argue and goes to some other room, hopefully to retrieve it. “Oh, and get me a coffee.”

“This isn’t a restaurant, you know?” Present Mic mumbles to himself, but he obediently takes another cup out of the cupboard. The sound of coffee beans being grinded drowns out whatever else the man might be saying.  

Still, Dabi is offended. He purses his lips as he gets into a more comfortable position on his carpet and crosses his arms. “I just got stabbed, remember? I almost died. Shouldn’t you be nicer to me? I thought you were supposed to be a hero.”

“Don’t listen to him!” Aizawa shouts to Present Mic over the coffee machine as he walks back into the room, a familiar phone in his hand. Waving a stern finger at Dabi and tutting like a disappointed parent, the man adds, “No emotional manipulation in my house.”

This is bullying, Dabi decides, huffing to himself in outrage. Both men ignore him, of course. Instead of giving him the phone back straight away, Aizawa turns his steps to the kitchen where he places a quick kiss on his husband’s cheek. Present Mic responds with a smitten little smile and passes Aizawa one of the cups, which the other man takes gratefully.  They speak quietly among themselves for a moment, no doubt scheming against Dabi, and then, once they finally deign to pay attention to him again, Present Mic walks over to the couch and hands him a cup of coffee too.   

What’s wrong with coffee, Dabi? you may ask. Didn’t you ask for it? To which he would answer that yes, he did, but he thought it was obvious that by ‘coffee’ he meant a coffee-flavoured milk drink with at least five spoons of sugar. Not... whatever this is.

“Why is this black?” He looks down at the cup in disgust, keeping it as far away from himself as humanly possible.

“It’s coffee.” Aizawa sighs heavily, falling back on the couch in a rather ungraceful manner. Immediately, the cat jumps onto his lap and the man wastes no time before he starts petting it. Recover Girl chuckles at the hero’s misfortune, sipping on her own drink and watching them with amusement. “Coffee’s black.”

Dabi scrunches his nose. “Since when?”

“Drink it or not, I don’t care. And then better start explaining what happened yesterday.”

Taking a tentative sip of the black monstrosity, Dabi wonders what the fuck is he supposed to tell them. He makes sure to grimace at the bitter taste, going so far as to pretend to gag, but he seems to be the only one finding it funny. Pouting, he replays the events of the last night in his mind. It’s not like he did anything wrong. Well, besides vigilanting being kind of illegal on its own. And, yeah, maybe burning that one guy’s face might be considered a bit excessive, but that was very much in self-defence. Sure, he probably shouldn’t have involved himself in that mess in the first place, but it’s not like he could have known the girl was a psycho. He just wanted to help. At least he didn’t kill anyone? That has to count for something, right?

Deciding to buy himself a little more time before the inevitable interrogation, he extends his hand and sends a pointed look at the phone still in Aizawa’s grip. “Before I tell you anything, I need to make a call.”

Sighing again, the man throws the device at him and it’s only by some miracle that Dabi manages to catch it before it crashes on the floor. He shoots the man a murderous glare, but all he gets in response is an innocent smile. Bastard.

“My knife too,” he adds, still glaring, hand still outstretched.

“Excuse me?”

“The knife. It’s mine. I want it back.”

“You got stabbed with your own knife?!” Present Mic asks, incredulous.

Dabi does not appreciate his tone. “Does it matter? Just give it back. It’s my favourite.”

“I left it on the counter,” Recovery Girl informs him, apparently the only helpful one around here. “I cleaned the blood off, so you can just take it whenever you choose to leave.”    

Satisfied with that, Dabi sends her a nod and focuses on unlocking his phone. There aren’t any unanswered calls or messages waiting for him, but since it’s his ‘work’ phone, it doesn’t mean anything. He’s still dreading whatever might be waiting for him back home.

While Dabi is busy searching for the right number and battling his anxiety, Aizawa hums curiously. “Is your father going to be angry that you didn’t go back for the night?”

“My father?” Dabi blinks in confusion, then lets out a snort. “I doubt he even knows which room I live in. No, it’s my mother that I’m worried about.”

Having finally located Fuyumi’s number, he dials it, puts the phone to his ear and holds his breath as he waits for his sister to answer. He glimpsed at the hour right after getting the phone and, luckily, it wasn’t as late as he’s been fearing. Fuyumi should be getting ready for school right about now, if he’s not mistaken, or possibly be on her way there. This might still be salvageable, if he plays his cards right.

“Who is this?” his sister asks sharply after only two signals and that’s when it occurs to him that she wouldn’t recognize this number of his.

“Why, it’s your favourite brother.”   

“You’re a dumbass,” she immediately says and her tone is flat, but there’s clearly a hint of relief in it.

He can’t help but smile. “Good morning to you too, dear sister of mine.”

“Shut up. Where the hell are you?”

Ah, seems like she’s not in the mood for jokes. Pity.

“I’m at...” His gaze wanders to Aizawa and he has to force out his next words, especially when the corner of the man’s mouth twitches. “...a friend’s.”

“You spent the night with Keigo?!” her screech is so loud even Present Mic turns his head all the way from the kitchen.

“I wish,” he sighs, once again mourning his sex life. “But no, it’s a different friend.”

“You have other friends?” Eh, rude? Dabi could have other friends if he wanted to. He just doesn’t want to, because most people are too annoying to deal with. Obviously. “You’re not cheating on Keigo, are you?”

Dabi is too exhausted for this conversation.

“No, of course not. Why would you even...?” He sighs again, rubbing at his eyes to chase the sleepiness away. “Look, I will explain later, okay? It’s not as exciting as you think.”

Aizawa’s eyebrow shoots up at that, which. Shut up, Aizawa.

“If you say so...”

“I’m just calling to ask, in how much trouble am I going to be once I come back?”

She huffs, a sound of car doors opening and closing echoing in the background. “You’re lucky I’m not an asshole like you. I told them you had to leave very early to do some very important thing for school and that they just missed you leaving. I’m expecting compensation for it, of course. And don’t even try to argue - you would have been so dead if it wasn’t for me.”

Has he ever told Fuyumi how much he loves her? Annoying little sister or not, she’s literally a lifesaver. He’s never going to say a bad word about her ever again. He doesn’t even care about what she might ask of him in return – as long as his mother never finds out that he gets stabbed for fun sometimes, he can do her homework for an entire year.

(Not that she would want him to. He would probably just make her fail.)

“Thank you, Fuyumi, you’re the best.”

“Yes, yes, just get your ass back home today or I swear to god I’m going to hunt you down.”

A short laugh escapes his mouth. “Aye, aye, captain.”

In the background, there’s a feminine voice shouting Fuyumi’s name. She hangs up on him without saying goodbye.

Well, that’s at least one problem taken care of. He has no idea how he would have explained his absence to Rei without incriminating himself if Fuyumi hadn’t covered for him. Having a parent that cares about him is nice and all, but fuck if it isn’t a little annoying to have to worry about silly things like this. In the League, he could have disappeared for a few days without a word of explanation and no one would bat an eye. All he would have to deal with would be their complaints about having no one around to cook for them. 

That just leaves the issue of school. For all his whining about it, he’s never skipped any classes before, so he has no idea what the consequences would be for that. Would anyone care? Would they call his parents to ask about it and blow his cover? Probably not, right? It’s just one day. It shouldn’t be a problem. He hopes.

“So, now that you don’t have to worry about getting back,” Aizawa interrupts his inner musings, levelling him with an unimpressed look, “would you mind telling me how exactly you managed to get stabbed?”

“I pissed off someone with a knife,” Dabi replies, offering a cheerful grin. “That’s usually how stabbing goes.”

“Dabi.”

“Fine, fine, if you really want to know.” He leans back on his hands, tilting his head to the side as if deep in thought. “I’ve had enough of Endeavor lecturing me, so I decided to go out, thought maybe I would meet you and get my phone back. Ran into some fight, miscalculated, ended up being stabbed by some crazy chic. She killed those guys, then ran away and I hid, cause I didn’t want to be accused of her murders. And also because I was stabbed. Then you appeared and the rest is history.”

(He isn’t going to mention the meowing incident. Not even under torture.)

Aizawa creases his forehead. “That hardly explains anything.”

“What else do you want me to say?” He rolls his eyes, exasperated. “That I was reckless? That I shouldn’t have jumped into something I didn’t understand? Well, I did. There’s nothing to do about it now.”

“At least you recognize that,” Aizawa mutters quietly, rubbing his temples. After watching him more closely, Dabi realizes the man isn’t actually as well-rested as he initially assumed – he’s just very good at hiding his exhaustion when it’s convenient for him. “Do you have any idea who those people were? The girl who stabbed you, the people who she fought with?”

Dabi shakes his head. “Nope, never seen them before. At first, I thought her and that other boy were just two innocent victims caught up in some nasty business, so I wanted to help. They were talking about some debts they wanted her boss to repay. I assumed she was some homeless orphan, doing shady things to survive. But the way she killed without hesitation tells a different story.” He pauses, grimacing at the memory of her slitting the boy’s throat without a sign of remorse. “She didn’t even care that her friend got killed.”

Aizawa nods, his expression contemplative. “Well, the police will collect fingerprints and DNA samples from the bodies, so they should be able to identify her soon. Although, even if they do, I doubt it will be easy to catch her. Especially if the only witness who’s still alive is unable to testify.” Here, Aizawa’s pointed gaze lands at him. “Not to mention, they’re most likely going to find someone else’s DNA there. A fire quirk user’s, one with recent history of illegal villain fighting. While, coincidentally, one of the victims’ face is covered in burns.”

Everything in the man screams judgement. He supposed he shouldn’t be surprised. From the outside, it really looks rather bad for Dabi, doesn’t it? If they actually manage to prove he was involved in that fight, putting the blame on him would be extremely easy. No one would have to bother with searching for some sketchy girl. A guy has a burned face, Dabi has a fire quirk. The guy is dead – Dabi is the murderer.

Fortunately, he’s not a total idiot. He’s been aware of the risks that come with his activities from the start and so, he’s made proper preparations.

“They won’t find anything on me.”

Aizawa raises an unimpressed eyebrow. “And how can you know that?”

Instinctually looking down at his palms, Dabi finds himself smirking wryly.

“I predicted something like this might happen.” He shrugs, as though it’s not a big deal. “I burned off my fingertips the moment I started vigilanting. There are no fingerprints to be found.”

All three blink at him, looking as horrified as he was expecting them to. Seems like him trying to play it cool only made it worse. He knew they wouldn’t understand. Ho could they? They haven’t spent half of their lives on the run from the authorities. Some minor pain is nothing if it helps him stay safe a little bit longer.

Surprisingly, it’s Present Mic who ends up exploding first. “Excuse me, you did what?”

“Burned my fingertips off. Perks of a fire quirk.”

“You poor boy,” Recovery Girl says, looking at him with pity.

Aizawa lets out a long-suffering sighs, hiding his face in his palms. “Why am I not even surprised? You really are a mess.”

Pretending to not understand what the fuss is about, Dabi tilts his head and, to the further horror of Present Mic, shows off his blank fingers.

“It didn’t even hurt that much,” he says, keeping his expression as innocent as possible. “It’s a bit hard to hold things without them, sure, but we all have to make some sacrifices.”

No one seems to have a response to that. Recovery Girl has this overly sympathetic expression on her face that he does not appreciate, thank you very much, and Present Mic looks like he’s trying to find a delicate way to suggest him a therapist. Aizawa retains his exhausted attitude and, instead of offering his own pity, chooses to ignore the subject altogether.   

“You are aware that there are other things the police can get your identity from, right? Hair, skin under your opponents’ fingertips. The blood from your wound.”

“I thought about it too.”

“Oh?”

“I burned the blood from the ground, they shouldn’t be able to get anything from it.” He shrugs again. “I had a hood on, so there shouldn’t be any hair and I don’t think any of them managed to scratch me. And even if they find anything, what can they do?”

Aizawa’s patience seems to be getting thinner and thinner. “What do you mean?”

“There’s no proof I did anything other than defend myself,” he points out. “They were a shady group of criminals. I’m just a one, weak boy. They attacked me, so I used my quirk to burn one of them and when they were distracted, I escaped. There’s no murder weapon, they won’t find my fingerprints anywhere and there would be none of my DNA on the people only she fought with. Not to mention, if I were the one to kill them, why would I use a knife and not my quirk? Even if they don’t believe that, they don’t have enough evidence to pin it on me.”

And, if they do, he can count on Endeavor’s influence to get him out again, is what he doesn’t say. He’s not overly worried though. The police in that area aren’t known for doing their jobs properly. They will probably put it down to gang conflicts and leave it at that. From what he overheard, they won’t even be wrong.

For some reason though, none of the people in the room seem convinced by his reasoning.

“Even if you’re right – and that’s a very big if – they could still figure out Dabi’s identity. You will get in trouble anyway. Especially with your recent violent history.”

“But most of my vigilanting isn’t illegal,” Dabi reminds him. “I don’t use my quirk, therefore I’m not breaking the law. They can’t punish me for a crime that I technically didn’t commit.”

“They can punish you for many other things than being a vigilante though. We talked about this.” Aizawa pinches his nose tiredly. “It really isn’t as simple as you make it sound. This was an incredibly reckless thing to do. You managed to survive the wound, but you might still get expelled from school or even convicted.”   

“I know, I know.” Dabi rolls his eyes, repressing a groan. “It was stupid, it was irresponsible, I shouldn’t have done that, blah blah blah. I know. But what’s done is done. I’m just going to hope they don’t find anything and only start worrying if they do.”

Aizawa sighs again – the man could really use some sleep, the dark circles under his eyes are beginning to get their own dark circles – but offers no further comments. Whether he’s accepted Dabi’s reasoning or has simply given up is unclear. Dabi doesn’t really care either way as long as it means the interrogation is over. He does not enjoy being scolded about responsibility by a guy who will one day allow a freaky monster to almost murder him to protect a bunch of hero brats.

“I’m just going to pretend I didn’t hear any of that,” Recovery Girl eventually says, standing up from the chair she’s been occupying and walking over to Dabi. Even when he’s sitting on the floor, he’s still a bit taller than her, which is both hilarious and weirdly uncomfortable. “Let’s go back to more important matters. Tell me, does anything still hurt? Do you feel any discomfort, other than being tired?”

Dabi moves his body around experimentally, stretching and twisting to see if he can feel anything concerning. There’s some slight pulling, but he knows it’s normal with fresh scars. Other than that, no pain. It’s as if he wasn’t injured at all, let alone on the verge of death not even a few hours ago. To make absolutely sure, he touches the wound some more, feeling the jagged texture under his fingers. Still nothing alarming, if one doesn’t count the fact that moving his arm feels like dragging around a bag of rocks. 

“Nope, everything’s fine,” he assures her. “I definitely don’t feel like I’m dying anymore.”

“This really isn’t funny,” Aizawa admonishes him, visibly praying for patience.

“Maybe you just have a shitty sense of humour.”

Aizawa raises an eyebrow. “Or, maybe, you’re using bad humour as a coping mechanism for your trauma.”

Shut up, Aizawa.  

Amateur psychodiagnosis aside, Dabi wonders what he should do now. A sane person would probably go home, sleep some more, maybe contemplate the fragility of human existence. But this isn’t Dabi’s first near death experience – far from it – and so, he’s confident he can skip the boring parts.

Still, he should probably stop invading on Aizawa’s life. Only, if he went home now, he would have to hide from his parents until it would be reasonable for him to come back from school.

He glances down at the clock on his lock screen and suddenly, he gets a better idea. He could actually go to school. He would still make it, if he hurried. Especially since, with his luck, his absence the day after the murders would surely be noted by whoever’s going to be investigating that case and only further incriminate him. An entire day of dragging his exhausted body from class to class sounds awful, but still better than prison.

“So, can I go now?” he asks, mind made up. He’s still half-convinced he’s going to fall back down the moment he manages to stand up, but it’s something for future him to worry about. “I answered your questions, I’m no longer injured, there’s no reason for me to intrude any longer.”

Notably, neither Aizawa nor his husband hurry to assure him that he’s not intruding at all. True, he most likely is intruding – although didn’t Aizawa take him here by his own choice? – but no good host would ever let their guest think that. Where are their manners?

“Where are you going to go?” Aizawa asks, eyebrows raised. “You said your parents think you’re at school.”

“I still have about half an hour before classes start. I should be able to make it.”

“You can’t seriously be considering going to school today,” Present Mic cuts in as he finally joins them in the living room, a plate with two sandwiches in his hands. He props himself on the armrest of the couch right next to Aizawa, offering the man one of the sandwiches.  

And also staring at Dabi like he’s the dumbest person he’s ever met.

“I wouldn’t put it past him,” Aizawa is the one who replies. “This kid has no concern for his well-being at all.”

Dabi glares at him. “Look, it’s not like I want to go. But if I don’t, people might get suspicious. And what if my teachers calls my parents to ask why I was absent? I can’t have that. Believe me, if I could, I would gladly spend the next few hours taking a nice bath and watching Tik Tok, but we can’t always have what we want.”

There’s a short silence where all of the adults exchange glances. They are all obviously against his plan, but it’s not like they can force him to do anything. They’re basically strangers. And they must realize that too – or maybe they’re just tired of arguing – because in the end, nobody protests. Not too much anyway.

Eventually, Aizawa lets out yet another deep sigh – Dabi is actually starting to pity the man a little – rubbing at his temples as though trying to chase away a headache.

(Too bad this particular headache is currently sitting on his floor, completely unaffected.)

“I hate to admit it, but he’s not wrong. It will look suspicious if he’s not there today. If he really feels he can manage...”

“Do you feel you will manage?” Present Mic presses, crossing his arms. “Just a moment ago, you could barely stand. You’re in the hero course, aren’t you? How are you going to participate in the physical classes? Isn’t your mysterious injury going to be way more suspicious than one absence?”

Dabi waves a hand dismissively. “Oh, that’s easy, I will just say my dad did that. It won’t be the first time I come to school injured. They’re used to that.”

“Well, that’s my cue to leave,” Recovery Girl announces suddenly, grabbing the few things she must have brought with her and heading towards the door. “I think I’ve heard enough. Aizawa, please, take care of that boy. And you, young man, try to be a bit more careful in the future, would you? I would like our next meeting to happen in more pleasant circumstances.”

Slightly dazed, they all murmur their goodbyes and in no time, the woman is gone. They wait until they hear the door close behind her before sharing a confused look. Then, after a brisk silence, the atmosphere turns tense again as Present Mic remembers what they’ve been talking about before the woman interrupted. If it’s possible, he seems even more alarmed than before, his wide eyes drilling into Aizawa in a silent accusation.

“Did you know about that?”   

“Of course I did. You should have seen him the first time we met. He practically screamed ‘abuse victim’.”

Excuse him?  

“Wait, you didn’t tell him? I thought you two were talking about me.”

“I didn’t feel like it was my secret to share,” Aizawa says simply, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. After Dabi raises a pointed eyebrow at him, he concedes, “With the police, maybe, if I felt you were truly in danger. But not with anyone else.”

That’s... surprisingly considerate of him. But then again, under all of that gruff façade, Aizawa is kind of a bleeding heart, so maybe he shouldn’t be surprised. It’s not like Dabi would have minded – he doesn’t really give a shit who might know about his father’s abuse. Actually, the more people know – and believe it – the better. But he’s aware most children in his situation would not feel the same, so he appreciates the gesture nonetheless. Which is a little sad, because it’s so obvious it probably shouldn’t be something to praise someone for. It might be that Dabi’s standards for heroes are just ridiculously low. Or for adults in general.

(He’s technically an adult, sure. But he wouldn’t trust himself either.)

“Can we go back to the fact that, apparently, you’re being regularly abused by your father? Because I don’t feel like it’s something we should just brush off like that,” Present Mic interrupts their moment, because, evidently, he’s as much of a bleeding heart as his husband.

Maybe they are great for each other, after all.

Dabi sends the man a wry smile. “Funny, everyone else did just that.”

“What?!”

Before the man can start ranting in outrage – which he clearly is about to do – Dabi waves a dismissive hand and continues, “Relax, it’s mostly in the past. I’m fine. And even if I wasn’t, you couldn’t do shit about it. You really think Eraser here wouldn’t already be making a fuss if it was so easy to ‘save’ me?”

The rage is replaced by confusion as Present Mic stares at them both, thousands of questions in his eyes. “What do you mean?”

“Hm, I guess that’s another thing he forgot to mention,” Dabi hums, eyeing Aizawa consideringly, a weird warmth growing inside his chest. “I probably shouldn’t advertise that much, but since you’ve already seen me almost bleeding to death, it can’t hurt that much. My real name is Todoroki Touya. You can figure out what that means.”

It takes the man a moment, but eventually his eyes light up in realization. “You mean—you mean your father is Endeavor?!”

“Unfortunately.”

“But—but that means—” Shock is not a nice look on Present Mic’s face. Especially not combined with that awful moustache. Luckily, it quickly transforms into disgust. “I always knew there was something wrong with that guy. But abusing his family? That’s sickening.”

“Don’t look so surprised,” Aizawa’s amused voice catches Dabi’s attention and when he turns to look at him, the man is smirking at him knowingly. Unconsciously, Dabi’s hand travels to his face, as if to confirm that he’s actually making some kind of expression. “I know you had a lot of bad experiences before, but not everyone is going to immediately call you a liar, you know. Some people actually tend to believe victims.”

“I’m not a victim,” Dabi snaps before he can even think about it, the word sounding weak and pathetic, and not at all how he would describe himself. Dabi isn’t a victim. He’s a survivor.

“Of course. I apologize,” Aizawa amends, raising in hands in a peaceful gesture, as though calming down a wild animal. It only serves to piss Dabi off even more. “I just meant, there are always people who are going to believe you. I’m not going to pretend all heroes are perfect, but there’s quite a lot of us who are actually doing it to help people. We’re not all in this for fame and glory.”

“Could have fooled me,” Dabi murmurs under his breath.

Aizawa grimaces. “Your father is the exception, not the rule.”

Dabi scoffs. Right. As if he would believe that. If anything, those two are the exceptions.

He’s not going to argue with them though. He’s much too tired for that. It’s not like he could change their minds about it anyway.

“Whatever,” he says, attempting to stand up. Present Mic rushes to his side as though to catch him if he loses his balance, but, fortunately, he seems to be able to keep himself upright on his own. He stretches his muscles, resisting the urge to yawn, and addresses the loud man, “Do you have a car? I need a ride to school if I’m going to make it.”

“Are you sure you want to go? I really don’t think it’s a good idea.”

Dabi sends him an unimpressed look. “I can always take the bus.”

The man sighs.

“Let me get dressed.”

Chapter Text

When he eventually arrives at school, he only has five minutes to spare.

After throwing a quick thank you to Present Mic and three more assurances that yes, he’s sure he’s fine and no, he wouldn’t rather go home, he basically runs to their classroom, not in the mood for another lecture from his annoying homeroom teacher. He hasn’t had a chance to grab the ugly uniform, so he’s probably going to get one anyway, but, hey, a guy can hope.

He bursts in just in time and quickly takes his seat, paying no mind to the stares he gets. He must be quite a sight – especially since the only clothes his size Aizawa could lend him were a Present-Mic-themed t-shirt and a pair of black tracksuit pants. Not to mention the general paleness and exhaustion that comes with barely surviving a stab wound.

The moment Keigo sees him, his eyes widen comically and it’s almost like there’s a big, fat question mark all over his face. Dabi shoots him a dry smile and whispers, “Later.”

The classes after that are a general nightmare, nothing new. He barely manages to keep his eyes open, his mouth is constantly being stretched by uninvited yawns and, honestly, he’s glad he doesn’t have to move much, because he would most likely collapse on his face if he had to so much as walk over to another classroom. All of that earns him quite a lot of concerned glances from Keigo, which only serves to make him feel worse – he’s so not looking forward to explaining all of that mess.

Eventually, there comes the lunch break. Everyone eagerly rushes out of the room, laughing and chatting, and making Dabi’s headache ten times worse. Soon, the only ones left are him, Keigo and the weird quiet kid, who’s bobbling his head slowly to something in his headphones.

“The roof?” Keigo asks, and doesn’t even wait for the response before standing up.

Dabi considers the prospect of walking up all those stairs and shivers.

“I’m not moving.”

Keigo eyes him strangely for a moment. “Oookay,” he says, then sits back down and reaches into his backpack for his lunch.

Dabi can only stare in envy as his stomach twists into knots. He was in such a hurry to leave he didn’t even think about asking Aizawa or Present Mic for food. Sure, he could technically go to the cafeteria and buy something, but then he would have to move...

Yeah, starving it is.

“So, what’s up?” his friend asks, chewing on his sandwich. “I mean, no offence, but you look like shit.”

“Later,” Dabi repeats, then lets his head rest against his arms on the desk. The lunch break is quite long. Maybe he can catch some sleep? Damn, he would kill for an energy drink. Sure, they might be awful for your health and full of sugar, but if he managed to survive a stab would, he figures a can of good old Monster can’t do much worse.

“Come on, nobody’s here. Whatever secretive thing you got up to last night, you can tell me now.”

“Later.”

“Man, you’re no fun,” Keigo whines, still chewing on his sandwich. Did no one ever teach him any manners? “Do you want me to guess? What, were you busy robbing a bank?”

“What for? I’ve got my dad’s credit card. I bet there’s more money on it than in some lame bank.”

Keigo hums, as though actually thinking. “Okay, fair. Let me think, what other crimes are there...? Did you steal a car? And drove it into a wall?”

Dabi raises his head the slightest bit to glare at him. “Why are you so convinced I was committing a crime?”

Keigo shrugs. “Well, you don’t want to talk about it, I figured it must have been something naughty.” Then, his eyes light up and a mischievous smile blooms on his face. “Oooooh. Oh, I know – where you out... fornicating with someone?”

Dabi snorts. “Yeah, your mum.”

Keigo squeaks, a grimace of pure revulsion twisting his face. “Ugh, no, don’t even put that image into my head! Gross!”

Laughing, Dabi tries for an innocent tone as he replies, “Hey, it’s your own fault. You walked right into that one.”

His friend sighs. “Okay, okay, I will stop guessing. But you’re telling me everything after school’s over, is that clear?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Then, Dabi’s stomach rumbles again and he decides that pride is overrated. “Hey, do you have another sandwich to spare? I didn’t have time to pack anything.”

He has to suffer through yet another disapproving look for that, but it gets him a sandwich, so he chooses to take that as a win.

***

The lunch break ends too quickly for his taste and suddenly, he’s faced with the reality of the second part of their school day – physical activities.

He doesn’t even try to delude himself into thinking he would be able to participate. It’s a miracle he manages to get all the way to the gym without his legs giving up on him. The thought of anything more is genuinely terrifying enough to almost make him tear up.

Resigned to what is sure to be an unpleasant conversation, he leaves Keigo in front of the changing room and drags himself towards the teacher.

“I can’t train today,” he announces the moment he has the man’s attention. He doesn’t offer an excuse.

“What...?” the man asks, confused, as he looks up from his phone.

“I’m not able to participate today.”

The teacher eyes him with a frown, obviously not pleased. “Why?”

What does he mean why? Is that guy blind? Can’t he see Dabi is barely able to stand? Do you need to be visibly bleeding to get out of training here? Maybe he should have left the bloody clothes on.

“Because I feel like shit.”

The man grimaces at his vocabulary, but apparently decides it’s not worth it to scold him. “I’m afraid that’s not how it works, Todoroki. Unless you have a doctor’s note, you need to participate. Those are the rules.”

“Nah.”

The man blinks. “Nah?”

“Yeah. Nah,” Dabi confirms cheerfully. “I think you misunderstood me, sensei. I’m not asking you for permission. I’m informing you that I’m not able to train today.” He pauses, unsure if he should continue, but in the end he just shrugs mentally and adds, “I mean, it’s not like you can force me.”

The teacher is silent for a moment, simply watching him. It seems like he might want to argue, but then his stare flickers to Dabi’s hands and something shifts behind his eyes, a shiver spreading through his body. Most likely remembering the last time some asshole decided to ignore Dabi’s no. Dabi offers him a blank smile and, after what feels like eternity, the man lets out a resigned sigh.

“What exactly is the problem? Does your head hurt? Are you injured? Do you need me to call your parents?”

“If you called my father about it, I would only end up more injured,” he scoffs before he can stop himself. His first instinct is to berate himself for the slip-up, but then he realizes... why should he? Why the hell should he lie about Endeavor’s abusive behaviour?

Suddenly feeling daring, he decides not to take it back. Sue him, but he’s curious. Never before has he had a chance to report Endeavor’s abuse to a teacher, since he never actually went to school until now. He did report it to the police once and that went as well as you would expect, but teachers are supposed to be more sensitive in such matters, aren’t they? Even if the accused person is someone important, teachers should be inclined to believe the kids under their care. So he can’t help but wonder how this one is going to react faced with such an accusation.

The man does not disappoint – by, ironically, adding to Dabi’s endless list of disappointments.

“What do you mean?” the teacher asks with a frown, suddenly wary.

Aiming for a casual tone, Dabi explains, “Endeavor wouldn’t like it if he thought I was slacking. It’s not like he cares if I’m injured or not. In fact, he probably prefers it when I am.” He shrugs. “This way, he doesn’t have to bother punishing me himself.”

He doesn’t know what he expects. If you asked him, he would probably tell you he’s not expecting anything at all. He stopped believing in people a long time ago.

But then why does it sting anyway, to be disregarded without a second thought?

“Don’t be silly, Todoroki,” the man chastises, his eyebrows creased. There’s not even any pause to indicate he took any time to honestly consider Dabi’s words. “Of course your father cares about your well-being.”

“No offense, but I think I know my father better than you,” Dabi replies coldly, his eyes narrowing without his permission.

“Todoroki, I understand you’re going through a phase right now and it might be clouding your judgement, but despite how it must seem to you, your father isn’t your enemy. Every parent needs to discipline their child from time to time. It doesn’t mean your father doesn’t love you.”

Dabi snorts without humour. “He loves beating me up, that’s for sure.”

The moment the accusation is out in the open, not shielded with any pretty euphemisms, whatever sympathy and understanding there was on the guy’s face vanishes instantly. His face turns into a stony mask, his lips pursed in displeasure and his posture suddenly straightened as though with an intention to intimidate. Gone is the laid-back, cheerful persona of the ‘cool teacher’, wholly replaced by this new, strict version.  

“Now, those are incredibly serious accusations. It’s a very distasteful idea of a joke, even for you. Your father would be deeply hurt if he knew you were saying something like this about him. You really should think more before you speak, Todoroki. Such claims could end up ruining someone’s life. It’s not something to take lightly.”

Dabi lets out a humourless joke. Right. Of course. He should have known better.

“Do you know what ruins lives, sensei?” he says, making sure to coat the last word with as much venom as humanly possible. “I will give you a hint: abuse.”

“Your father is not abusing you, Todoroki,” the man says, with such profound certainty that it would be almost funny if it wasn’t so fucking infuriating. “Maybe he was a bit rough with you a few times, but parents slip up sometimes. They are only human, after all. To call it abuse would be disrespectful to those who have actually been abused.”

Dabi grits his teeth, the man’s careless words igniting a wave of unexpected rage in his gut. He knew what to expect, of course he did, but it doesn’t make it any less disgusting to hear. He just doesn’t get it. How can someone dismiss abuse accusation from a child without sparing it a single thought and still call themselves a hero?

“I didn’t know you lived in my house with us to pass such judgement so confidently. I guess I just imagined all the burns and the constant screaming coming from the training room and the—”   

“Todoroki, that’s enough—”

“Whatever,” he snaps, a plastic smile glued to his face, turning his back to the man so he can’t see the hatred that must be burning in his eyes. “Keep living in your perfect fantasy, see if I care. Fuck, I always knew heroes were useless, but you’re just pathetic.”

Those naïve idiots. How blind, how stupid. Oh, how he wishes he could set his quirk free and teach them a lesson. He would show them what really ruins lives – fire, and anger, and scars you couldn’t dream to cover. He would show them in excruciating detail how you turn children into horror stories. He would make them believe – or at least, he would make them scream.

But in the end, he manages to keep it all in, clenching his fists hard enough for his nails to break skin. He knows they’re not worth it. He takes a breath to calm himself, just enough to get the red hue out of his sight. And then, before the man can say anything else, he starts walking away.

But not before getting one last word in.  

“I’m not training today.”   

***

After school finally lets them out, the two of them do, in fact, end up on the roof. It seems appropriate, like it’s ‘their’ place – up until now, all of their serious conversations happened there. It seems... wrong to change it. And, it’s pretty private, which is good, because—  

"You got stabbed?!" Keigo shrieks, his eyes almost popping out of his skull as he looks Dabi up and down, as though he’s expecting him to suddenly start bleeding out and drop dead. Dabi was just about to start explaining why he isn’t bleeding out and dropping dead, but sadly, he hasn’t been given a chance.

“That’s what I said.”

“Wha—? How are you so calm about this?! What are you even doing here?! Shouldn’t you be in a hospital?!”

“Are you stupid?” Dabi snaps, shooting Keigo a condescending look. “As if they wouldn’t immediately call the cops on me.”

"Oh, no, you do not get to call me stupid for that.” Keigo grits his teeth, responding with his own impressive glare. “When people get hurt, they go to the doctor. It’s a logical assumption! Stab wounds aren’t something you can just treat at home!”

Dabi holds back a sigh. It’s not enough that he’s still buzzing with anger after his little talk with that fucking teacher, no, Keigo has to make it worse by being so darn annoying. He knew this would happen. He knew his friend would make a big deal out of this. He doesn’t want to lie to Keigo – it feels a bit too much like betraying Hawks – but if this is how the boy is going to react to everything, maybe he should start hiding more.

(It’s not like he doesn’t understand – he does. He’s way too aware the person in front of him is not the Hawks he knew. This version of Keigo doesn’t have any experience with violence. Especially violence being mentioned so casually. To him, it must truly be a pretty big deal. Obviously, he’s just worried. Dabi knows that.

It doesn’t mean his patience isn’t running dangerously thin.)

“I’m alive, aren’t I? Clearly, I managed to deal with it.”

“Stab wounds aren’t something you deal with, Dabi!”

Maybe in your world, he thinks bitterly. In the real world, most people on those streets, people like Dabi, would rather die than let authorities put their hands on them. But, of course, Keigo wouldn’t know that.  

He rolls his eyes in exasperation, then says, “I would explain, if you just stopped fucking interrupting me.”

Keigo bristles, his face getting a little red – although clearly not out of embarrassment. His mouth opens as though to continue arguing, then shuts itself up before any sound can actually leave it. He keeps glaring, letting out an annoyed huff, but obediently stays silent, the desire to know prevailing over his irritation.

Although far less enthusiastically, Dabi leans back on his arms and finishes his story. He explains how he was found by Aizawa and taken to the hero’s house, then about Recovery Girl treating him – making sure to point out that see, you can actually treat a stab wound at home – and, finally, about Present Mic driving him to school.

(He doesn’t mention the meowing incident. This is between him, Aizawa and that one rat he thinks he saw in the corner.)

Keigo’s expression isn’t any less judgemental than before, although he does blink in shock at the mention of Present Mic.

“Wait, wait, wait, your weird buddy’s husband is Present Mic? Present Mic is gay?”

It’s only then that Dabi realizes he probably should have kept that part to himself. Especially after Eraser was kind enough not to spill his secrets. He’s not even sure if their marriage is really a secret or if they’re just not advertising it much, but it still feels like an invasion of privacy to spread that around. Hopefully, the men won’t be too mad at Dabi for accidentally outing them to his fake-boyfriend.

“I don’t know how he identifies, but yeah, Aizawa and him are married. Apparently, they’re high school sweethearts,” he says, a corner of his mouth rising in amusement. It’s a bizarre thought, to be honest. The images from all the shoujo manga that he read on the topic clash horribly with the reality of who the people in question are. Dabi can’t imagine Aizawa as some besotted teenager making heart eyes at his loudmouth classmate. It was probably more like he kept insulting him until Present Mic fell in love with him. “Don’t go talking about it though. I’m not sure their relationship is public.”

“I’m not an idiot,” Keigo huffs, rolling his eyes.

“Could have fooled me.”

“Ha, ha,” the boy deadpans, then scrunches his nose as he thinks over what he’s just heard. “So, let me get this straight – first, you got arrested for nearly killing someone…”

“Yeah, a villain who tried to kill my brothers.”

“…then, the same day, you went out for your stupid vigilante thing and got stabbed…”

“Lightly stabbed.”

“…and the only reason you’re alive right now is because your hero friend accidentally happened to find you before you bled out?”

“I wouldn’t really call Aizawa my friend.”

Abruptly, Keigo shoots up to his feet, wings outstretched behind his back like some sort of sinister halo. His face is red and twisted into an ugly grimace, and his whole body is trembling slightly, as though he can barely stop himself from leaping at him and shaking some sense into Dabi.

"I told you!” he shouts, throwing his hands. “I told you it was too dangerous! I told you it would end up like this! But you didn’t listen, you never listen!”

“Oh, give it a break—”

“No! No, I will not ‘give it a break’!” Keigo is panting, angrier than Dabi’s ever seen him, except maybe for that one time when he attempted to murder him with his feather. “What were you even thinking?! What if Aizawa wasn’t there?! What if nobody found you?! What if you actually died?!”

“Well, I didn’t. So there’s no point to your what ifs.”

“No point...?!” Keigo shrieks, showing no signs of calming down. “You were lucky! That’s all! If anything had gone even slightly differently, you wouldn’t be here now! Do you not understand that?! Do you have any idea what it would have done to your mother?! To your siblings?!”

“Do not bring my family into this.”

But Keigo isn’t listening. “...And all that for what, for a moment of adrenaline?! For an easy thrill?! Is that really worth your life?!”

“I was trying to save innocent children!” Dabi growls, his eyes narrowing dangerously. “How was I supposed to know they would turn out to be some psycho maniacs?! So what if I got a little hurt?! It comes with the job! Not that you would know that, seeing as you have literally no experience in hero work at all!”

He doesn't mean to say this – or, well, he does, but he immediately regrets it when Keigo flinches away from him, as though slapped. Even so, the throbbing anger in his gut doesn’t weaken and so the guilt is short-lasting, overshadowed by grim resolve. It might be excessive, this harshness, it might be hurtful and cruel, but maybe that’s exactly what’s needed to get some sense into the teenager in front of him.

Because that’s what he is, isn’t he? Only a teenager. Not the Number Two Hero, not the Commission’s little killing machine, not the man with whom Dabi shared so much trauma they didn’t have enough alcohol to drown it in that one particular evening when they both decided to lower their walls just a bit.

It's not Keigo's fault, it’s not. The boy is still so painfully young and unexperienced. This version of him was never a child soldier, was never trained to deal with situations like this and so he isn’t used to the dangers of the real world like Dabi and Hawks were. Dabi knows this.

And yet it stings.

(The truth is, Keigo is not a lot of things. And Dabi could forgive that, could forgive almost everything. But the one thing he seems unable to forgive is that he is not Hawks.)

Keigo doesn’t respond immediately, like Dabi would have expected – instead, his expression shuts down, leaving behind a blank mask. The hurt that shined in his golden eyes at first vanishes, replaced by dull emptiness – or, rather, forced indifference. He keeps his chin up and his arms crossed, but his jaw is visibly tense and Dabi wastes a second to worry about the boy’s teeth. His wings are the only thing betraying him, fluttering uneasily against the cold wind. No matter how well the boy is able to hide it, it’s obvious he’s been hurt by Dabi’s words.

Dabi meets his gaze unflinchingly. He doesn’t say sorry, because he’s not sure he is, but he tries to make his voice less harsh, although still stern, as he continues, quietly, "I know you’re worried, I get it. But I know what I’m doing. I’m aware of the risks.” He sees Keigo opening his mouth, ready to argue, and suddenly, the anger is back. “No. You don’t get to lecture me for the choices I made when you’ve never had to make them yourself.”

The silence that settles over them seems louder than any yelling would. The wind continues to blow, causing Dabi to shiver. His borrowed t-shirt doesn’t provide much cover from the cold, but he doesn’t have anything else. He doubts Keigo would be willing to give him his jacket right now. He probably wouldn’t be willing to take it anyway.       

Keigo swallows, his fists clenching and unclenching anxiously. He turns his head away from Dabi, instead choosing to stare at the city below them. "I'm not trying to— " he cuts himself off, then huffs in frustration, a frown creeping onto his face. "I know you can make your own decisions,” he says slowly, deliberately calm. “I’m not— Look, yeah, you did the right thing, trying to save these people, obviously. I know that. I know there are risks to being a hero, I’m not that dumb.”

Dabi frowns. “Then why—?”

“Because you’re not a hero, Dabi!” Keigo throws his hands again, the calm façade crumbling as quickly as it appeared. “Heroes can fight those criminals legally! Heroes can request help when they need it! And, most importantly, heroes can actually go to the hospital when they get hurt instead of bleeding out in a sketchy alley!”

A tired sigh escapes Dabi's mouth. Really? They’re back to that? It seems like every conversation he’s had with Keigo recently is just them saying the same things over and over again, and never getting anywhere. It’s tiring. It’s nothing like the easy camaraderie he used to share with Hawks – their own kind of softness, the silent understanding through only one look, the jabs that only ever caressed but never hurt, not anymore. Sometimes, he misses it so much he can’t breathe. Especially in moments like this one, when it hits him that this – this connection, this love – is likely gone forever.

He might have been a bit too optimistic when he convinced himself he could build the same thing with this Keigo. He didn’t want to accept the reality of his situation then. He deluded himself that, since Keigo was here, happy, healthy and alive, he hadn’t actually lost anything. Which was unfair, both to Keigo and to Hawks. Because they were clearly two very different people.

And, the painful truth is, Dabi is in love with only one of them.

“Again, do you think I don’t know all that? I’m not fucking five, I know how the world works.”

“And you still don’t see how dangerous it is?!”

This time, it’s Dabi who throws his hands. His patience has officially run out. “Yes, Keigo, I know it’s fucking dangerous! And I don’t care! You need to stop acting like my fucking mother!”

In any other situation, the offense on Keigo’s face would make Dabi laugh. "That's not—"

"Look, I know you're not doing it on purpose," Dabi interrupts, desperately trying to put his frustration on a leash. He forces his voice to stay even, because yelling has never helped anyone, but, despite his efforts, it still comes out strained. "But I think we both have the same problem here. You keep thinking about me like I’m still your Touya. I keep thinking about you like you’re still my Hawks.” He takes a breath, then exhales slowly, deliberately. “But we're not."

Somehow, saying it out loud feels final. The words leave an ashy aftertaste on Dabi’s tongue, the bitter truth burning harsher than any fire. They can’t communicate, because they’re not talking to each other. They keep trying to reach ghosts that are no longer able to hear them.

“Dabi—”

"Don’t deny it,” Dabi cuts him off again, determined to get everything out before they get derailed by another pointless argument. “You don't treat me like you would treat an adult. You keep forgetting I'm not actually fifteen and that I have way more experience in life than you, and that, despite what you may think, I know what I’m doing. I don't need you scolding me for every single questionable thing I do. It’s fucking annoying.”

Which, in hindsight, might have not been the smartest thing to say, because Keigo absolutely loses it.

“Oh, I’m sorry I’ve been so annoying!” the boy snaps, voice laced with venom. His face is getting red again and his eyes gleam with something unhinged. “I didn’t think that worrying about you getting fucking killed is me treating you like a child! I’m not scolding you, I’m just trying to get it into your stubborn head that you’re putting yourself in unnecessary danger!”

Dabi winces at the volume of Keigo’s voice, but the boy doesn’t notice, too absorbed by his feverish ranting. He’s panting slightly, pacing around like a wild animal locked in a cage. His hands are clenched too – and it’s not a regular clench, but what seems like his quirk acting out. Keigo pays not mind to that or to the blood that leaks out from the cuts his talons make in his skin, consumed by his anger.

“It might be a surprise to you,” he continues, in a sickly sweet tone, "but there are people who would be pretty fucking upset if you ended up bleeding out in some ditch! Me, for example! Or your family! I doubt they would care whether you ‘knew the risks’ or not when they would have to plan your funeral!” Keigo pauses, a bit out of breath, needing a moment to compose himself. When he continues, his voice is quiet, bitter. “But you don’t care about any of this, do you? You only care about yourself.”  

Dabi’s about to answer, he is. He even opens his mouth and everything, sure that some sort of defence would find its way onto his tongue on its own. But nothing comes out. There’s a million things he could say, hundreds of excuses he could offer, but, for some reason, his mouth refuses to work. All he can do is stare at the other boy dumbly.   

Clearly not expecting any answer, Keigo doesn’t even spare him a look before going on. At some point, he stops his restless pacing and lets out a humourless laugh. “God, you think I’m annoying? I’ve been dealing with your shitty attitude for weeks now!”

“Now, what is that supposed to mean...?”

Finally, Keigo’s sharp gaze lands on him. His eyes are dark, but they shine with the satisfaction of finally getting out everything he must have been bottling up.

“Oh, let’s see.” Keigo puts up one finger. “You always have to be right, no matter what. Always have to have the last word too.” He puts up another finger. “You think you know everything better than anyone just because you’ve had a fucked up life. I don’t even know if it’s some weird sort of self-pity or if you just like flaunting it around.” He puts a hand under his chin and hums. “What else? Oh, yeah, you think you’re so cool because you talk back to teachers and—and can’t be bothered to study for a single test! You whine about everything all the time even though you literally got an impossible chance to fix your life, something other people would kill for! But you’re so set on wasting it, it’s infuriating! You’re infuriating! And I never said a word about any of this, because I know it’s been hard for you, but you know what? It’s been pretty fucking hard for me too! Not that you give a shit about that. But I put up with of all of your drama because I thought we were friends and that’s what friends do. Hell, all I’ve been doing since you got here is try to be a good friend!”

There’s a pause then, one that couldn’t be longer than a few seconds, but feels closer to a lifetime.

“But,” Keigo huffs bitterly, “I guess I’ve just been getting on your nerves.”

And with that, the boy deflates, the last fumes of rage leaving him drained and resigned. His body remains tense as he waits for a response though, as if bracing for a hit. There’s an expectation lingering in the air between them and they both know this is a defining moment for their future.

Dabi knows what Keigo expects – for Dabi to blow up on him. He also knows what Keigo hopes for – an apology. Dabi isn’t sure what he can give. There are so many awful things he could say now, things that would make Keigo cry and probably never speak to him again. Things that he wouldn’t even mean but would say anyway just to cause the most damage. He could tell the other boy to go to hell and be done with it.

For a moment, he wants to. It’s tempting, in a way jumping off seems tempting when you’re standing on a roof and staring at the ground below. For a moment, he wants to ruin it. He wants Keigo to hate him, he wants to lose yet another good thing in his life. It would be so easy. He wouldn’t have any reason to keep attending this stupid school. He would be able to give up properly and wouldn’t even suffer anything from it. After all, if nobody cares about you, there’s nobody to disappoint.

But he would be proving Keigo right if he did that. Not to mention, despite what he tells himself, Dabi is tired of losing things. Maybe it’s time to stop burning the bridges behind him just because it’s easier.

Keigo’s gaze on him is expectant and suddenly, Dabi feels an irrational urge to hide. He bites his lip, stares down at his lap and pretends Keigo isn’t there. He might have decided not to return the insults, but he can’t force himself to offer an apology either. So he stays silent.

“Suit yourself,” Keigo huffs after a long moment, then turns around and leaves without another glance back.

***

Dabi is not feeling guilty.

There’s nothing to feel guilty for. He didn’t do anything wrong. It’s not his fault Keigo is so fucking sensitive. Why get so upset about a little stabbing? He’s alive, isn’t he? It’s not like he wanted that bitch to stick a knife into him. And anyway, Keigo really shouldn’t take everything so personally.

The phone in his hand buzzes for the seventh time that evening. He looks down on it, sees Keigo’s face and immediately rejects the call.

Okay, maybe he is feeling a little guilty.

He can admit, even if only in the depths of his mind, that he might have overreacted during their fight. Slightly. He knows Keigo is just a kid and that he was just worried about his friend. He knows he’s been taking out his frustrations on him and that it’s not fair. He knows it’s not Keigo’s fault that he’s not Hawks.

But he’s just so fucking angry.

Maybe he should consider getting a therapist, Dabi muses, now that he’s no longer a wanted criminal. All that anger cannot be good for him.

Looking down at his phone with a barely restrained growl of frustration, Dabi opens the text conversation with Keigo, rereads it a few times and once again curses himself for having feelings. Life would be so much easier if he never learned to care about people.

TO: chicken nugget <3333

  hey

 can we talk?

 keigo

 keigo come on

im sorry okay

 i know you’re reading these

 we really should talk

 are you just going to ignore me forever?

 fine

whatever

Still as pathetic as the last time he checked. Which would be around three minutes ago, but who’s counting. It’s not like he cares.

When he sent these messages yesterday, only a few hours after the fight, once his emotions calmed down enough for him to feel shitty about his behaviour, he honestly expected Keigo to jump at the chance to make up, especially since it was Dabi who apologized first. But the only reply he got was an overbearing silence and then, today at school, outright ignoring. Keigo didn’t so much as look at him the entire day, not saying a word even when they got paired up in training, and then unceremoniously marched off to have lunch with Miruko and her friends, leaving him alone to the snarky comments of some of their less friendly classmates. Not that Dabi cares about their opinion, but he swears if he hears ‘trouble in paradise?’ one more fucking time, he’s going to murder a child and he will enjoy it.

The point is, for some reason, Keigo seemed pretty adamant about them not talking. He didn’t write back to Dabi’s apology, for fuck’s sake, and he definitely knows how much Dabi hates apologising. So Dabi assumed they were fighting for real, which is fine, obviously, Dabi doesn’t need him. But now Keigo’s been calling him repeatedly for the last hour and that’s just mixed signals.

Dabi can’t really explain why he doesn’t pick up. Maybe he’s being petty. Maybe he’s too tired for emotional conversations. Maybe he’s terrified Keigo is only calling to tell him their friendship is over and that they should never talk again and that he hates him and that he ruined everything like always.

One of those. 

Suddenly, his increasingly anxious thoughts are interrupted by a knock on his door. His head snaps up as a frown forms on his face. Quickly, he glances at the clock on his lock screen. It’s pretty late for any visitors. He would assume everyone is asleep already and, besides, he’s not really in the mood to see anyone.

“Come in,” he says anyway, because his family usually doesn’t bother him unless it’s important. He would have never forgiven himself if he ignored something serious just because he’s busy sulking.

The door opens quietly to reveal a hesitant Fuyumi, her elbow resting on the handle. She’s dressed in her fluffy blue pyjamas and has her hair in two braids, and in her hands, she’s holding two steaming cups of cocoa.

“You’re not busy, are you?” she asks, keeping her voice low.

Dabi spares a quick glance at his still vibrating phone, then covers it with a pillow and offers his sister a bright smile that is only a little faked.

“Nope. Not at all.”

She replies with her own smile, then closes the door behind her and walks over to Dabi’s desk to put down their drinks. Her nose scrunches as her eyes land on... well, everything in his room, but particularly on the dart board with Endeavor’s picture on it that he has hanging over the desk.

“Your room is a nightmare,” she informs him, plopping down on the (black) desk chair. “I don’t know how you can live like that.”

Dabi shrugs. He’s made his mistakes. He’s going to have to live with them.

“Not that I don’t appreciate your company,” he says, lying down on the bed and propping his head on his palm, “but is there something in particular you wanted from me?”

Fuyumi levels him with an unimpressed look. “You, mister, have some explaining to do.”

“Whatever do you mean?”

Without changing her expression, Fuyumi grabs one of the cups and takes a small sip, careful about the temperature. As soon as she does though, her face turns blissful and she exhales in pleasure. Not many people know this, but he and his sister have one particular thing in common – their ridiculous love of anything sweet.

He outstretches his hand in a silent plea and, after a moment of consideration, she hands him the other cup. It’s a little hot to the touch, but Dabi’s so used to burns at this point he barely notices. He takes a sip as well and in no time, he’s wearing a matching expression of bliss. This is a damn good cocoa.

“You’ve been acting weird,” she accuses him, after swallowing some more of her drink. Her legs are dangling absentmindedly and her elbow is propped on the backseat of the chair, but her grey eyes are drilling into him with terrifying intensity. “You violently attack a villain, then you disappear who knows where and I have to cover for you, you act... odd in general and then today you come back from school and barely even acknowledge us before locking yourself in your room. Something is clearly going on and I want to know what.”

“Nothing is going on,” he replies on instinct, which only earns him another glare.

“Oh, really? So how about you tell me where you were that night you didn’t come home?”

“I already told you.”

Fuyumi huffs. “All you told me is that you were ‘at a friend’s’. That’s not an explanation. What friend? What were you even doing out at this hour? Why did you spend an entire night with them? Do you know how many times I tried calling you when I realized you weren’t home?”

He does. It was the first thing he saw once he got back and checked his regular phone. Ten unanswered calls and twice as many messages, all increasingly concerned. He’s lucky she decided to cover for him anyway instead of calling the police and reporting him missing.

“I’m sorry I worried you,” he says reluctantly, avoiding her eyes. “I left my phone at home.”

“Yes, I noticed. I saw it on your nightstand. I stopped calling after that.”

He narrows his eyes at her. “You were going through my room?!”

“You were gone!” she snaps back, immediately defensive. “And you weren’t answering my calls! What was I meant to do? You’re lucky I didn’t tell mum!”

And, yeah, when she puts it like that... He finds his outrage subsiding almost instantly. He doesn’t like the idea of his siblings rummaging through his things, but he guesses this time it was justified. He thanks whatever higher powers there are that she didn’t find his secret weed stash – she would definitely snitch on him and that would have been a disaster. Or worse, she would have wanted him to share.

“Okay, yeah, you’re right. Again, sorry I worried you. I honestly was planning to come back before anyone noticed I’m gone.”

This time, it’s Fuyumi’s turn to narrow her eyes at him. “So why didn’t you?”

Dabi lets out a resigned sigh. He knows his sister. When she gets stuck on something, she’s not going to let go. She won’t leave until he gives her an explanation. But it’s not like he can tell her what really happened that night. She would probably freak out worse than Keigo. On the other hand, he doesn’t want to lie to her either. It just... it feels wrong. So instead, he decides to give her a... censored version of the events.

“It’s not as exciting as you think,” he says, trying not to wince. Alright, he doesn’t want to lie too much. “There’s this guy I met some time ago. You wouldn’t know him. He... borrowed something from me and I wanted it back, so we set up a meeting.”

Fuyumi remains unimpressed. “And that was urgent enough to go in the middle of the night? Couldn’t it wait until the morning?”

“You know how controlling father is,” he reminds her, his mind running to find a suitable excuse. “He would have known if I didn’t get back straight from school. And that friend, he... he works night shifts. He sleeps during the day. Meeting him at his... workplace... was the easiest solution.”

“Okay, let’s pretend it makes sense,” she says, clearly unconvinced. “So you went to meet him, got that thing you needed back and...? Why didn’t you come home?”

“I... got injured.”

“You what?!”

“It wasn’t that serious!” he rushes to assure her, you know, like a liar. “I just... I tripped. And I hit my head. And I was fine, but he was worried so he didn’t want me to go back on my own and he made me stay with him until we were sure I wasn’t, like, concussed or anything. And I wasn’t. So when I woke up in the morning, I borrowed his phone to call you and then I went to school.”

There, that sounds believable, right? And it’s not that far from the truth – well, if you have a loose definition of ‘truth’, that is.

“You tripped,” she repeats and for some reason, she sounds rather doubtful. “Right.”

“I promise I’m fine.”

“Let’s say I believe you,” she says, putting one of her feet on the chair so she can hug her leg and put her chin on her knee. Which, why did he ever think Fuyumi was straight? She clearly can’t sit in chairs properly. “What about today? You didn’t even reply when Natsu asked you to play with him. You just locked yourself here and ignored everyone for hours. What was that about?”

Damn. She really won’t let anything go, will she? Admittedly, he might have acted like a dick to his family for the last two days, but he was still so angry and annoyed, and he didn’t want to accidentally snap at them and say something he was going to regret. It seemed easier to distance himself until he calmed down. Not to mention he wasn’t exactly in the mood to socialize.

“I... might have fought with Keigo.”

That, at least, seems to genuinely surprise her. “Really? I thought you guys didn’t do fights.”

“Well, now we do, apparently,” Dabi replies, and it comes out more bitter than he would like.

“Was it about that night? Did you tell him what happened?”

“Yeah,” he admits, grimacing as the memories of their argument replay in his mind. “He was really pissed about it. Which, it wasn’t even his business! I don’t know why he got so mad, I don’t need his permission for everything, but he acts like he’s entitled to make decisions for me and—”

“Touya, he’s your boyfriend,” Fuyumi interrupts him flatly. “It’s completely normal he doesn’t want you spending nights with other people.”

“He’s not really my boyfriend,” he makes a point to remind her, even though he knows it won’t do anything. “And it’s not about that! He wasn’t jealous. He was just angry for no reason and he kept lecturing me like he was my mother or something, like I wasn’t able to make my own decisions.”

Fuyumi remains unmoved by his ranting. “Does Keigo know this person you’ve been with?”

“No, it’s... it’s a relatively new acquaintance.”

“How new?”

“I don’t know, a few weeks?”

“Is it someone from your school?”

Dabi can’t help but snort. “God, no. We met on an accident one day and he’s just been pestering me ever since. I keep telling him to fuck off but it doesn’t seem to be working.”

Increasingly concerned and already a bit disapproving, Fuyumi pushes on, “And how old is this friend of yours?”  

“...not that old,” he mumbles, only now realizing how suspicious it all sounds.

“Okay, so, ignoring how creepy this all is, Keigo got mad at you because you spent the night with your adult stalker, got hurt while at it and didn’t bother to tell anyone until the next morning?” She pauses, as though to let her words sink in. “Did you consider that he might have just been worried about you?”

Oh, not that again. “There was nothing to be worried about! I can take care of myself, I know what I’m doing, and everything turned out fine anyway! I don’t understand why he’s making such a big deal out of this.”

The look Fuyumi sends him is almost pitiful. “Touya, you can’t make people not worry about you. It doesn’t work like that. If you do something dangerous, people are going to freak out, because they care about you. It doesn’t matter whether you think it’s unwarranted, that’s just how relationships work.”

“I know that,” he mumbles, staring down at the now cold drink still gripped in his hands. “I get that he worries. But why does he have to treat me like a child? It’s like he thinks I’m stupid. He blows out at me about everything I do that is even slightly dangerous. It’s just so... frustrating. Why can’t he trust that I can take care of myself?”

“Touya, you dumbass. He’s not treating you like a child. He’s treating you like someone who loves you. Think about it - if he was in your place, wouldn’t you be worried about him too?”

But that’s different, he wants to say. Keigo is still so young, so innocent. He doesn’t have the same experience Dabi has. It’s perfectly normal Dabi would worry about him. It’s not the same, not when Dabi is an actual adult, with knowledge about the world Keigo could only dream to have. Of course Dabi would freak out if it was him was running around fighting villains and getting stabbed. Because if it was him, it would be safe to assume he absolutely had no idea what he was doing and needed to be stopped. It would be different.

Except, those are all just meaningless excuses, aren’t they? It’s not different at all. Dabi is just an asshole.

“I guess,” he mumbles, avoiding her gaze. He’s sure she’s going to be annoyingly smug about this.

(Besides, it has never truly been about Keigo at all. He’s known that from the beginning, even if he wouldn’t let himself admit it. It’s not really that he minds Keigo worrying and freaking out on him. It’s that he wants Hawks to freak out on him. Just that and only that.)

“You should apologize to him,” Fuyumi says, and, somehow, she doesn’t sound smug at all. In fact, she’s surprisingly gentle. “You wouldn’t want to lose him over something so stupid, would you?”

“I tried,” he admits, sighing as he fully falls down on the bed, careful not to spill the drink in his hand. “But he hasn’t been answering my texts. He barely said a word to me at school.”

Fuyumi raises an eyebrow. “And what’s that sound coming from under your pillow?”

“...I might have been ignoring his calls.”

And now, she’s looking and him with both disappointment and disapproval. He guesses he deserves it. She stands up from the chair, collecting her cup, and putting her chin up.

“I’m going to sleep. And you should answer your phone.”

She walks over to the bed to take his unfinished drink from his grip, frowning as she notices how much of it is left. He offers her an apologetic smile – turns out, for once, he’s not in a mood for sweets. She seems to understand that, so she doesn’t comment on it, simply accepting the cup and turning towards the door.

Before she leaves, she spares him one last glance over her shoulder and adds, softly, “Seriously, Tou, don’t let this dumb misunderstanding ruin your friendship.”

***

He doesn’t move from his pathetic face-down position for a long while after the door closes behind his sister. The constant vibrating of his phone stops at some point and doesn’t start again, which only makes him more reluctant to move. Keigo must have finally had enough after so many ignored calls. Not surprising. Dabi would have given up much sooner.

He wishes he could just force himself to get that damn phone, call his friend back and resolve everything, because Fuyumi is right. It would be silly to let one little argument ruin their relationship – especially one that was so stupid. He should stop feeling sorry for himself, get a grip and resolve this like an adult he claims to be.   

Except... it’s not just that one argument, is it? At this point, Dabi doesn’t think he can ever stop comparing Keigo to Hawks. And that’s not fair to either of them. Is it even worth it then, to try and have a relationship with a shadow of his boyfriend, with someone he can’t see as a separate being no matter how hard he tries? Won’t it only hurt them both in the long run?

Perhaps it would be better to let their friendship die now, when they could still pick up the pieces, than to prolong it unnecessarily until they both end up shattered beyond fixing. Wouldn’t it be easier this way? To let Keigo go before he inevitably corrupts him? Maybe this argument is fate giving him a chance to walk away before it’s too late, before the bond between them gets twisted into something ugly and unrecognizable, and, as a result, forever taints any remaining memory of love he shared with Hawks.   

Or maybe, he really is just trying to hurt himself again and looking for excuses.

“Oh, fuck that,” he hisses, sitting up abruptly and throwing the (black) pillow aside to reach for his phone.

Wallowing in self-pity is all fine and good, but he’s not going to build a life on it. And Keigo was right, wasn’t he? He got this one in a million chance to shape his life anew and all he’s been doing is trying to sabotage it. He’s never going to move on if he’s constantly stuck in the past – pun not intended. Keigo might not be Hawks, but he’s a good friend. And by now, Dabi’s ready to admit having friends in your life is pretty fucking nice.

He winces when his eyes are met with fifteen missed calls from chicken nugget <3333, the last one dating ten minutes ago. It’s already past eleven, so it’s reasonable to assume Keigo must have given up and gone to sleep. Dabi would rather not wake him up if he did – Keigo can be pretty bitchy about his beauty sleep being interrupted – but he fears his resolve might waver if he waits until the morning.

He’s just about to press the call button, to hell with consequences, when suddenly, there’s a heavy bang against the glass in his window. His gaze snaps up, eyes narrowing in suspicion, hands ready to blast fire at anyone stupid enough to bother him at this hour. What the hell is going on? Is thit some weird attempt at robbery? A villain attack? Would anyone really be stupid enough to attack Endeavor’s house?

For a short moment, he sits still and waits to see if maybe this was somehow his imagination. Then, slowly, he stands up from the bed and carefully inches closer to the window.

This time, he can see the stone coming very clearly.

The glass shatters with a loud crash, spraying sharp pieces all over the room. Instinctively, Dabi puts his arm up to cover his face – and if he hadn’t, he probably wouldn’t have an eye anymore. There’s a momentary ringing in his ears as his brain attempts to make sense of this bizarre situation. A large, grey stone is laying innocently on his black floor, a thin trickle of blood is running down his arm and there’s a gaping hole where his window is supposed to be.

Dabi blinks, uncertain if this is actually happening or if he somehow got high and doesn’t remember. Curious despite everything, he walks over to the window, careful not to step on the glass with his bare feet.

He’s not sure what he’s expecting to see outside, but it definitely isn’t a red-faced, sheepishly smiling Keigo.

“What the fuck.”

Maybe he’s in shock, but Dabi has trouble comprehending what exactly is happening right now. At least it doesn’t seem to be some weird revenge thing, because, judging how wide his eyes are, Keigo seems to be panicking a little, even as he chuckles awkwardly and rubs the back of his neck.

“It works in movies?” he offers weakly.

Dabi’s not sure if he wants to know what kind of movies Keigo watches. He can’t even respond properly, his mouth opening and closing uselessly, with no sound coming out of it.

“I mean, at least I got your room right? Thank god for that. It would have been really embarrassing if it was, like, your mum’s. Or Endeavor’s. Well, I wouldn’t feel bad about crushing his window or anything, your dad is, like, the worst, but then he would probably kill me, so that wouldn’t be good, you know?”

Keigo sends him another hesitant smile, his face flushed adorably, another grey stone clutched in his right hand. There’s no sight of his previous cold demeanour anywhere and also he’s definitely talking too loudly for this hour. Dabi can’t decide if he wants to hug him or throw the stone back at his stupid face.

“What the fuck are you doing here.”

Keigo has the audacity to pout.

“You weren’t answering my calls.”

Dabi cocks an eyebrow at that, even though it’s unlikely Keigo can see it in the dark. He can’t just not react to such a dumb explanation.

“So you decided to murder me for it? With a rock?”

“No,” Keigo protests, rolling his eyes, and he’s still too loud but at least he’s talking to him, so Dabi can’t force himself to tell him to shut up. “You weren’t picking up and I needed to get your attention somehow.”

“You could have texted, like a normal person. No need to destroy my window.”

Dabi’s words are meant to sting, but Keigo just shrugs, unapologetic. At least he drops the second stone.

“Like I said, it works in movies.”

The silence that falls over them next is definitely a little awkward and that alone is enough to irritate Dabi, because they don’t do awkwardness. He has no idea what Keigo wants from him in the middle of the night – well, he does have some idea, but he’s reluctant to get his hopes up before he knows for sure – but they should probably stop shouting before Endeavor wakes up and makes a scene about it.

“So why did you come here?” he asks, aiming for nonchalance. His attempt at casually leaning against the window frame ends with yet another cut on his arm, as though he wasn’t already injured enough. He’s used to enduring way worse pain though and so he manages not to make any embarrassing sounds about it.

“I wanted to talk,” Keigo admits, a bit more serious. There’s something jumpy about him though, unusually nervous, almost like he’s expecting Dabi to scoff at him and tell him to go to hell. “About what happened. You know.”

Yes, he knows. And yes, they probably should, but Dabi doesn’t really want to talk about it. He would very much prefer to simply forget about their little disagreement and move on like nothing has ever happened.

“Really?” he drawls, tapping his fingers against the window sill, because he might want to make up, but he’s never said he was going to make it easy. “Now you want to talk? Seems to me like you’ve had an entire day to do that.”

Here. Passive aggression usually works wonders on redirecting a conversation – hopefully far away from feelings. They can bicker a bit, hug it out and go back to being friends, no need for any serious talks. They both know they’re sorry, right? Do they really need to say it out loud for it to count?

Unfortunately for him, it seems that Keigo is determined to, ironically, be an adult about it and so doesn’t rise to the bait. Instead, he takes a deep breath and meets Dabi’s eyes unflinchingly.

“I’m sorry for ignoring you. That wasn’t very… mature of me,” he says, with an appropriate grimace. “I shouldn’t have done that. I also shouldn’t have ignored your messages.”

“What messages?” Dabi asks, way too quickly.

Keigo doesn’t even bother to acknowledge the interruption. “I wasn’t ready for this conversation then. I was still too angry. But I thought about what happened a lot and I really think we should talk.”

Well, fuck. He really can’t get out of this one, can he?

“Fine, fine,” Dabi sighs, pushing himself back from the window frame. “Come in then, we don’t want the entire neighbourhood to hear us.”

However, instead of being happy that Dabi is agreeing and jumping at the chance to reconcile, Keigo stays where he is, looking adorably confused.

“What?” Dabi questions, only slightly impatiently.

“…how exactly am I supposed to come in?” 

The only response this gets from Dabi is a blank stare.

So, of course, Keigo goes on, “I just mean, I wouldn’t want to wake up your parents with the door or anything. I’m around ninety percent sure your dad would actually kill me if he caught me sneaking into your room in the middle of the night.”

If Dabi was in a better mood, maybe he would have more appreciation for the way Keigo’s face turns slightly red as the implications of his own words hit him with full force. Maybe he would even dryly point out that if a broken window hadn’t alerted his parents to his presence, a door probably wouldn’t either. Alas, he simply continues to stare.

“What?” Keigo questions with a hint of frustration.

Good lord, this boy is truly hopeless. And Dabi used to think Hawks was a goodie two shoes.

“Are those wings of yours just for decoration?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. Keigo blinks, then glances behind himself, as though needing to confirm that his wings are still, in fact, very much attached to his back. He doesn’t look convinced of this plan. Dabi couldn’t care less. “I mean, you made a hole in my window, you might as well use it.”

“What if someone sees me?” Keigo protests immediately, his voice echoing against the completely silent and empty street. The only thing left to compliment the ridiculous image would be a lone tumbleweed rolling down the pavement behind his back.   

“If you’re going to keep yelling like that, someone will definitely see you,” Dabi mumbles under his breath, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “Just get up here, for fuck’s sake, no one cares.”

“I mean, you definitely don’t, but since you are, you know, a criminal, I don’t think your opinion counts here. Some people actually respect the law.”

“Oh, you would get along with Shouto.”

“What?”

“Nothing,” Dabi sighs irritably. “Just get up here.”

“I really don’t think I should be using my quirk without a license. If someone saw me, I would get in trouble…”

“Oh no,” Dabi deadpans, before lightning his palm on fire and letting it burn brightly for a long moment. Keigo’s expression turns exasperated even before Dabi continues talking. “Hey, neighbours, look, I’m illegally using my quirk. Come on, someone call the police on me, I’m breaking the law.”

“Dabi. These rules are there for a reason.”

Yeah, to piss him off, probably.

“Look, I’m not coming down there and you’re definitely not coming in through the door. You can fly up here or you can go home and we will talk tomorrow. Your choice.”

And with that, he walks away from the window, counting down from three in his head.

He tries not to grin when, just as he hits zero, he hears a familiar flutter of feathers and a thud of boots landing on the floor.

“You’re hopeless,” Keigo whines, but then he immediately steps on the glass and winces, so who’s really hopeless here?

“I used to be a villain and now I’m a vigilante. You said it yourself, I’m a fucking criminal,” Dabi says slowly, staring at the boy like he’s an idiot. “Do you honestly think I give a fuck about rules?”

“Yeah, that’s kind of the problem,” the boy grumbles in response. Then, his eyes seems to catch sight of Dabi’s very clearly bleeding arm. “Shit, you’re hurt!”

“That’s kind of what happens when your window blows up in your face,” Dabi explains helpfully. But, to be fair, he probably should do something about it. It stings like hell and even though those are rather shallow cuts, he’s kind of lost enough blood in the last few days already.

Keigo winces again, looking anywhere but at him. “Sorry about that. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“Well, it’s far better than getting stabbed, so.” He shrugs, attempting a wry smile. It only earns him a glare. “What, too soon?”

Keigo exhales tiredly, pinching his nose. “Just get us some band-aids.”

***

Later, when the glass is mostly cleaned up and Dabi’s very serious wounds are taken care of, they end up sitting side by side on the bed so they can finally talk, presumably like adults. Dabi’s eyes are locked on his hands which he keeps lightly joined on his lap. He’s trying very hard not to fidget, suddenly grateful for the cover provided by the darkness of the room.    

“So,” Keigo begins, shifting uncomfortably.   

“So,” Dabi agrees, nodding, fully aware he’s being unhelpful.

It earns him a half-hearted glare.

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop,” he promises with an eyeroll, raising his hands in defence.  

Keigo rubs his temples, already seeming exhausted with this conversation and they haven’t even started yet. For once, Dabi can relate completely.

“I’m trying to be mature here, you know, and you are not helping.”

Of course he’s not helping – he doesn’t want to be having this conversation. Yes, he’s perfectly aware that conflicts are best resolved by proper communication, he doesn’t need any therapist to tell him that, but, well, knowing that does nothing to make it any less unappealing. He dearly misses the times he and Hawks could simply resolve their issues by make-up sex.  

“Just get to the point,” he says, leaning back on his arms and tilting his head in practiced nonchalance. “You came here to talk, so say whatever you have to say and let me sleep.”

“You’re making it more difficult than it has to be,” Keigo mumbles, sending him a small glare.  He rubs his temples again, sighs, and finally turns to look at Dabi properly. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? I said a lot of mean things and I didn’t mean them.”

Dabi snorts. “Yes, you did.”

Sure, he could have worded it a little more nicely, but they both know nothing of what Keigo said to him was untrue. Dabi has truly been a shitty friend, and probably also a shitty person in general – he can acknowledge that much. He’s never been angry about that part of their argument.   

“Fine, maybe I did,” Keigo admits, letting out a small huff. “But I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that. We could have just talked about it.”

“We both know I wouldn’t have listened to you though.”  

“Well, you do have a problem with listening to others.”

“Yeah, you said that. It’s not my fault others are usually wrong.”

Keigo sends him an unimpressed look.

Dabi groans theatrically, throwing his head back to stare at the (black) ceiling. “Look, I know, okay?” His hand unconsciously travels to the scar on his abdomen, his fingers tracing it softly. “I guess I should sometimes consider what other people tell me. But it’s fucking hard when I only had myself to rely on for so long, you know?”

“I get it,” Keigo says quietly and he still doesn’t, not really, but saying that would only continue their fight and that’s not what they’re here for. “I just think that sometimes you have too little regard for your own life. I’m guessing it has to do with your life before all this and I won’t pretend to understand, but that’s exactly why I think you should try to listen to people who care about you more often. Believe it or not, we don’t like seeing you hurt.”

“Who’s ‘we’?” Dabi mutters to himself as a sort of automatic response, even as his family’s worried faces flash before his eyes, a stab of guilt piercing his stomach deeper than any knife.

Wisely, Keigo does not deem it with an answer. Instead, he takes another deep breath and goes on.

“Anyway, I’m sorry. For being a dick and for ignoring you.”

Stifling another groan, Dabi waves his hand in a dismissive gesture. “It’s fine. I guess I kind of deserved it.”

A small smile stretches on Keigo’s lips. “Yeah, you kind of did.”

“And… I’m sorry too,” he says quietly, more seriously, because Dabi might hate emotional conversations but Keigo deserves to hear it. Still, he can’t force himself to make eye contact, so he continues to stare up ahead, hoping Keigo will forgive him for being a coward. "I really am a shitty friend. I keep getting angry at you because you're not Hawks and that’s fucked up. You're not him, you’re you and that’s good, that's the only person you should ever have to be. But, fuck, I want you to be him, all the time, because I'm selfish and I miss him.” He pauses, realizing he’s getting choked up and that his voice is a moment from breaking. He lets out a humourless laugh, feeling his eyes burning. “Funny, I thought I was used to losing people by now.”

He braces himself for whatever response might come, but it proves unnecessary. When the silence stretches long enough to turn almost suffocating, Dabi finally finds the courage to steal a glance at Keigo’s face. It’s not like he’s afraid of the boy’s reaction – he’s pretty sure the Keigo already knows all of this, in one way or another – but it still hits him like a hummer not to see anger or resentment on that familiar yet foreign face, only painful understanding. The moonlight shining on them gently through the window is the only light illuminating their faces and it’s not much, but it’s enough for Dabi to see the wetness gleaming in Keigo’s eyes.

“You think it’s any different for me?” comes a quiet response, after what feels like hours. Despite waiting for it, Dabi is somehow startled anyway. “I loved Touya. I know I’m young but I think he might have been it for me. Just like your Hawks was for you. Yes, I’m not him, but you’re not Touya either. You barely resemble him at all.”

Oh.

He’s really been an asshole, hasn’t he? So fixated on his own hurt that he’s never really put any real effort to consider Keigo’s side of things. It’s never truly clicked for him that their circumstances are exactly the same. Someone they loved, gone. Replaced by a stranger who’s just similar enough to mock but too different to ever be enough.    

“Sorry,” Dabi whispers, looking down at his own familiar yet unfamiliar hands. He’s not sure what he’s apologising for, but it doesn’t really matter. There’s enough guilt in him to fuel thousands of apologies.

“Did you know,” Keigo continues, calmly, which somehow makes his words all the more heart-breaking, “that every day I wake up and for a moment, I don’t remember he’s gone?”

On reflex, Dabi’s fists clench around the bedsheets. He glances at the boy again, but Keigo isn’t looking at him. His eyes are fixed on an old diary lying on Dabi’s desk, the only piece of Touya left in this world.

“I smile, thinking of all the ways I could make him laugh. I think where I could bring him after school so he wouldn’t have to go back home. I grab my phone to read through the messages he would have left me because he was bored and his injuries wouldn’t let him sleep.”

Dabi’s still, his mouth dry, as he listens and tries to appear unaffected. Keigo doesn’t sound like he’s crying, but the tear tracks glistening on his cheeks betray him anyway.

With the next words, his voice finally breaks, turning into a rough whisper. “But they’re not there. He’s not there. And I know it’s not your fault, but sometimes, I can’t help but feel like you killed him. Because you’re here - and he isn’t.”

Dabi doesn’t flinch, but it’s a close thing. Not for the first time, he feels like an idiot. How is it that he’s never really considered how Keigo might be handling the loss of Touya? To be aware that it must have hurt is one thing, but how has he never noticed how much it’s been affecting his friend? Was Keigo such a good actor or has Dabi been simply too self-absorbed to spot the obvious signs?

The answer is probably a little bit of both. It’s in Keigo’s nature to mask his own suffering for the benefit of others. But there’s another, more shameful explanation for Dabi’s ignorance and it’s simply that he hasn’t considered Keigo and Touya’s relationship equal to Hawks and his. He’s been too blinded by his own suffering and it made him selfish.

“And all I’ve been doing is trying to erase every single thing left of him,” Dabi whispers, hit with the nauseating realization. “Keigo, I’m sorry—"

It snaps Keigo out of his depressed state, causing him to blink owlishly, as though waking up from a confusing dream. He turns his gaze back to Dabi and seems to realize what he’s said, because his eyes widen slightly and his cheeks turn pink.

“Don’t,” he says, shaking his head. “I didn’t tell you this to make you feel guilty.”

“You can’t decide how I feel,” Dabi points out numbly.

“Too bad, because I’m deciding it right now. You’re not allowed to sulk about this. You said it yourself, didn’t you? You kept expecting me to be your Hawks, but it wasn’t fair because I’m not. It’s the same here. I might feel hurt by you no longer being Touya, but it’s not actually your fault. You didn’t choose this. I’m the one responsible for dealing with my feelings.”

“I didn’t make it easy for you though.”

Keigo sighs. “Look, I know it didn’t sound like it, but I really wasn’t trying to make you feel bad. I just wanted to show you that I understand how you feel. I don’t blame you for wanting your Hawks back. I want Touya back too. But, since it’s unlikely we’re getting any of them back, you and me it’s what we have. I want us to be friends, even if that’s all we’ll ever be.”    

All we’ll ever be. The words hurt, maybe even break his heart a little, but in a good way, somehow. He’s known for a while now there would be no romantic future for them, not when they would only ever compare each other to someone long gone, but hearing it said out loud, having it be final... It hurts, but it’s also freeing. Letting them discard the remnants of the toxic hope for an impossible future and leaving only a blank canvas to paint with whatever they see fit.

“Yeah,” Dabi agrees, smiling softly, and if a few tears roll down his cheeks, well, it’s probably too dark to see them. “I would like that.”   

Keigo smiles back and offers him his hand. “To the new beginning?”

Dabi laughs. “God, you’re so corny.” But he takes the boy’s hand anyway. “To the new beginning.”

It’s supposed to be a second hello. But somehow, it feels just as much like a goodbye.     

Chapter Text

When Dabi arrives at school the next morning, everyone is acting weirdly excited. It immediately fills him with dread. Anyone who’s ever had to spend any amount of time with children knows that ‘excited’ is literally the worst thing a child can be. And, whether he liked it or not, Dabi has had a lot of experience with children.

(With Toga, for example, ‘excited’ usually meant someone was going to get stabbed. With his siblings, as proven by their latest ‘exciting’ outing, it might very likely lead to Dabi getting arrested. And with Shigaraki, who might have not officially been a child in the most common definition but was definitely still one at heart, it almost always ended with them having to buy a new pad. And sweep the floor.

So, yeah, sue him for being a bit sceptical.)

It doesn’t take him long to find out what has them all in such a frenzy. Honestly, he would have found out even if he didn’t want to know, what with how loud everyone is being. He supposes the definition of whispering must have evolved while he wasn’t looking. Or, maybe, the secrecy is only fun when everyone is in on the secret.  

Apparently, there’s a rumour going around that a ‘big’ surprise is waiting for the hero course students and that it’s going to be announced during today’s homeroom. That’s what Dabi and Keigo gather from the loud whispering anyway, but it’s confirmed when they bump into Rumi on their way to their classroom. She refuses to give them any specifics but promises it’s going to be fun, before waving them off with a wink. Keigo is thrilled. Dabi – whose definition of ‘fun’ differs considerably – not so much.

When they eventually reach their classroom, they are greeted by the sight of the blackboard covered with a white sheet. This has never happened before as far as Dabi is aware, therefore it’s safe to assume they aren’t being pranked and that the rumours must hold some truth to them. There is certainly some sort of a surprise prepared for them, no doubt about that. It’s the ‘fun’ part that Dabi is still not so sure about.

Most of their classmates have already taken their seats and are now busy whispering among themselves animatedly, proposing various theories about what might hide behind this sheet. Some of their ideas are pretty tame or at least reasonable, but some others he manages to overhear border on ridiculous. For example, someone suggests there are already too many heroes out there and so, they’re going to vote someone out of their class. Coincidentally, right at that moment, a large number of people direct their not-so-friendly glances at Dabi.   

He ignores the stupid children and lets Keigo drag him to their own desks, where he carelessly drops his backpack to the floor and then flops down on the chair, letting out an exaggerated groan.

“They will make us do things,” he whines, throwing his head back and starting to swing idly on the chair. “I can feel it. It’s going to be something productive,” he says the last word as if he was saying dog shit or Endeavor and shudders theatrically. 

Keigo rolls his eyes at him, taking his own seat in a perfectly normal way, making sure to emphasize how gently he puts his own bag down. “Oh, no. You will have to stop lazing around. However will you survive.”

Dabi shrugs, seemingly unbothered. “I can just not do it, whatever it is. It’s not like I care.”

“Sure.” Keigo smirks knowingly, eyeing the thick math textbook that is conveniently sticking out from Dabi’s backpack. “Whatever you say.”

Dabi can feel his cheeks heat up, as he fruitlessly tries to kick the backpack away so the damned book won’t be visible.

“Shut up.”

It’s nice, this familiar bickering. Dabi was worried the fight would make things awkward between them but it seems like their talk yesterday brought their relationship back on the right track. Keigo has been all smiles ever since they met up at the gates and haven’t mentioned their disagreement at all, so Dabi assumes they are pretending it never happened. It works for him – he would much rather they go back to the way they were before, with the new understanding of each other, than start treading around each other on their toes.

Keigo laughs at him for a little longer, way too amused by something as insignificant as a textbook – especially considering they’re currently at school – but eventually turns his attention to the covered blackboard and their classmates discussing their various crazy theories. He puts his arms over his chair’s backseat and raises an eyebrow.

“Anyway, isn’t it obvious what it’s all about? Rumi might have been all secretive just now, but she’s already told me how they had to do internships in their first year and we haven’t had to do that yet. I mean, it’s about time, right? We’re almost at the end of the semester. What else could it be?”

“Haven’t you heard?” Dabi tilts his head, feigning confusion. “We’re going to do the Hunger Games. The last one alive gets to graduate.”

“Is that what you would consider ‘fun’?” Keigo asks, after barking out a small laugh. 

Dabi grins. “Sure.” He stops his swinging, instead leaning over his desk so he can meet Keigo’s eyes. “Children murdering themselves for the pleasure of the masses? Count me the fuck in.”

Keigo hums, putting his cheek on his palm. His face shows mostly curiosity, mixed with a sliver of amusement. “Are you so sure you would win?”

“That, or I would die.” Dabi shrugs. “Either option sounds good to me.”

“Oh, wow, so edgy,” Keigo deadpans, unimpressed. “You can let me win then, if you like the thought of dying so much.”

“Pff, you’re not getting rid of me so easily.”

They exchange a few more silly scenarios of what that secret surprise could be – even though Dabi’s pretty sure Keigo is right about the internships, which is… not ideal – but soon their teacher is walking in, a cup of coffee in her hand, expression way more lively than normal. It appears that the students aren’t the only ones excited about the news. Dabi is not sure it’s a good thing.

“Good morning, students,” she greets them once she puts her things down and stands in front of the class. She’s not the kind of person to beat around the bush, thankfully, so instead of trying to create some suspense or further anticipation, she gets straight to the point. “As I’m sure some of you have already deduced, we will be talking about your hero internships today.”

‘Ohh’s and ‘ahh’s can be heard from all over the room, much to Astra’s pleasure, but there are also some small noises of disappointment. Most of the students seem pretty cheerful about it though, even if it’s not anything as outlandish as them deciding on the next year’s hero rankings or whatever bullshit they came up with. There’s also some apprehension on a few faces, mostly from the people Dabi recalls not being the greatest at physical exercises. He doesn’t know what his own face looks like, but he doubts there’s a lot of excitement to be found there.

“Taking part in the internship is obligatory. You won’t be able to pass the course without it, so don’t take it lightly. Internships last for a week and in that week you won’t have any of your usual classes – you will be expected to be at the Agency you choose for most of the day, learning what it’s really like to work as a hero. However, since you don’t have your provisional licences yet, you will not be allowed to use your quirks in combat unless given an official permission from your mentor – but let me warn you beforehand, most Agencies aren’t very keen on letting first year students fight. For them, until you've earned your provisional license, you’re mostly supposed to watch.”

More disappointed noises. Dabi snorts quietly while trying to imagine any of those babies in an actual battle. They’re not bad, per se, but their skill level is nowhere near that U.A. brats the League used to fight. He doubts they could hold their own for long against a real villain, one that wasn’t just a masquerading teacher or a weirdly painted dummy. At least for now. They have only been learning to be heroes for what, a few months? It’s definitely not enough for them to be allowed anywhere near genuine danger.

Which sucks for Dabi. Because, while it’s a smart idea to keep the actual children far away from the real fighting while they’re still so unexperienced, it also means he’s going to die of boredom during that awful week.

“As you surely know, our school treats its students fairly and doesn’t want to have them judged solely on the basis of one big performance like some other schools I’m not going to name.” She makes a very meaningful pause here, her face scrunching in distaste at the mention of these ‘other schools’, and then continues as if she never stopped at all, “Instead, we’ve been collecting records of your progress throughout  the last months, including recordings from your practical classes, and that information has been made available for any heroes looking for interns. You might think there wouldn’t be a lot of them interested in first year students, but, in fact, most pros like to lock down their future sidekicks as early as possible to start training them in a way that best suits their personal preferences, so usually they extend quite a lot of offers.”

It’s... surprisingly reasonable, Dabi thinks, nodding his head absent-mindedly along with everyone else. Definitely better than organising some grand event that allows literally everyone – including any villain with half a brain and a working TV – to observe the inner workings of their students’ quirks. Especially since those students are supposed to be future heroes. The League would never have considered kidnapping that one angry kid if not for his performance during the Sports Festival. Not to mention how unfair it was – for example, some students exceptionally skilled in fighting could lose right at the beginning, before they can show any of it off, just because they aren’t very good runners. Seeing a few training sessions along with certain test results seems like a much better way to decide if a particular student is worth inviting to your Agency.  

“Now,” the teacher continues, walking up to the sheet-covered blackboard and sending them a sharp smile, “the part you’re all waiting for. On the blackboard, I have written your names and the number of offers you received. It’s true that we might not get as many offers as some other, more flashy schools, but we still get a lot, so don’t be surprised if some of you have over a hundred. Shiketsu is one of the best hero schools in Japan, after all.”

Dabi is loving the unsubtle U.A. shade here, he’s not gonna lie. He allows his lips to stretch into a small smile, even as unwelcome anxiety begins to grow in his stomach. Despite Shiketsu’s more reasonable approach to doing things, this whole internship nonsense is still such a bullshit. He’s going to have to spend a week with some stranger – some hero, nonetheless – doing who knows what and he’s not even going to get paid for it. Plus, the top heroes probably don’t bother with interns, or if they do, they go for the winners of that damned Festival, which means he might get stuck with some mediocre random nobody who’s going to have him make coffee all week. What’s the point of continuing to suffer at this damned hero school if he’s not even going to get a chance to legally set people on fire?

Come to think of it, would anyone even choose him? His father’s name might sway some, but he would rather kill himself than spend a week with an Endeavor fanboy. And really, with his recent atrocious test results, poor attitude and Touya’s pitiful performance during most of the year’s practical classes, Dabi wouldn’t consider himself a desirable addition to any agency and he’s sure most pros would agree.  

“After you see the numbers, I will give each of you a list with the names of the heroes who made you an offer and you will have until our next homeroom to choose one of them,” Astra informs them as she picks up a bunch of papers and hugs them to her chest. “Fortunately, there isn’t anyone with zero offers, so there shouldn’t be any problems. Now, we will take a look at that list and see who got the most offers. I want you to think why that is and what can you do to increase your desirability.”         

Desirability? What are they, cows to be sold? He thought they were studying to be heroes, not sex workers. Besides, Dabi’s already pretty desirable, if he says so himself. Just ask Hawks.

In any case, she said there was no one with zero offers. Which means he must have gotten at least some. Weird, but okay. Still, he’s definitely not one of the ‘over a hundred’ people – and if, somehow, he is, he might just lose the last remnants of respect he has left for this society.

“Ready?” Astra asks, smiling brightly, and actually waits for an answer. After receiving a moderately animated affirmation, she makes a grand gesture of reaching for the sheet’s edge and then tears it off with one quick move. The only thing missing is her shouting ‘voila’ and doing a funky hand shake like some sort of circus performer.  

Regardless of the unnecessary theatrics, the results are unveiled and, to nobody’s surprise, the first name on that list is Takami Keigo, with over five hundred offers. With his incredible speed, his powerful quirk, great marks in every subject and remarkable fighting ability, he should be an obvious choice for any hero with a pair of working eyes. If anything, Dabi would have expected him to get more.

Just like Astra said, the overall number of offers is much higher than Dabi would expect – it’s wild to imagine there are this many heroes around – but not enough for more than four people to get over a hundred. The medium score seems to oscillate somewhere between sixty and twenty, with the few less lucky people at the bottom of the list scoring just barely over ten.

And then, of course, in the very last place with only two offers, is Todoroki Touya.

Immediately, everyone’s eyes are on him. Most of his lovely classmates appear incredibly amused, chuckling and whispering to each other gleefully. Some though, he notices, border more on pitying – which is honestly ten times worse. He’s tempted to flip them off, show them where they can shove their useless sympathy, but ultimately decides it would look too much like he cares, so he simply rolls his eyes and settles on doing it in his mind.  

Astra doesn’t comment on any of it, not on his pathetic score nor on the class’s reaction to it. Her face remains unmoved as she continues her lecture, which at least serves to take the attention off of Dabi. She tells them to think about why it’s Keigo who got the most offers, what they can do to improve their ‘desirability’ in the future and what might have turned the heroes off while considering them. She might also say something about a short essay she wants them to write on the topic, but Dabi is not the homework kind of person, so he tunes that part out.

Eventually, Astra stops talking and starts to hand out the lists with the names of heroes who extended them an offer. Some of them consist of multiple pages, which, in Dabi’s opinion, is a real waste of paper, while some don’t even fill half of one page. Still, everyone seems content enough to receive them, with some people making joyful exclamations at seeing a particular name. Astra smiles at that and announces that they will now have a short moment to properly acquaint themselves with their results before continuing towards the back seats. 

Meanwhile, Keigo takes that as a permission to turn around and face him. Where usually he would be grinning and babbling about everything and nothing, now his expression screams ‘awkward’. He’s biting his lip, for one, and generally avoiding looking anywhere near Dabi’s eyes, instead staring down at his fidgeting hands.   

“Cut it out.” Dabi rolls his eyes, not in the mood to deal with Keigo’s misplaced guilt. “It’s not like I expected anything different.”

“It’s not that bad?” Keigo tries, attempting to sound cheerful but failing miserably. “I mean, at least it’s not a zero?”

“It’s pathetic,” Dabi corrects him flatly, causing the other boy to wince. Despite his efforts to remain unmoved, he can’t help but wonder... “Was Touya really that awful?”

It’s not that he cares, he honestly doesn’t give a shit if some stuffy heroes want him in their agencies or not, but still, such a low number seems really unfair. True, he has no idea what exactly is in his file, doesn’t know shit about Touya’s performance in practical classes other than that it wasn’t very good, but surely he couldn’t have been completely useless? He got into this school somehow, didn’t he?

Keigo hesitates, as if unsure how to explain it without outright insulting his friend.

“Well… It’s kind of complicated. He wasn’t bad, per se. His fighting skills were really good, actually. The problem was always with his quirk. I mean, you’re him, you must know how hard it was for him to control it. His fire was hurting him more than it was helping most of the time, so he wasn’t really using it and that’s… not a great thing for a hero? I mean, he was very good at physical combat, it’s not like he was losing every fight, but sometimes it’s just impossible to win against a quirk without a quirk, you know?”

Dabi opens his mouth to argue that it’s perfectly possible to be a good hero without a quirk, thank you very much, but then falters. Yes, his own endeavours as a vigilante were mostly done quirkless, but his usual opponents weren’t real villains, were they? They were just some common thugs with either no quirk at all or quirks useless in battle – and even then there were times when he had to use his quirk to get out of a bad situation when his physical skills weren’t enough.

“And no matter how good he was at everything else,” Keigo continues, a little less cautious, but still clearly uncomfortable, “the heroes who draft us are mostly interested in strong quirks, not strong people. You can train someone with a powerful quirk to be a better fighter, but you can’t really do much about someone whose quirk just doesn’t seem to work.”

Before Dabi can muster any response to that that wouldn’t be him cursing out the dumb hero society for an hour, they’re interrupted by Astra, who reaches their desks at last. He notices she approaches them rather warily, with her eyes darting uncertainly between the two of them. She clears her throat.

“Takami, well done.” She smiles down at Keigo proudly as she hands him his full five-page list of neatly organized names. “It’s a really impressive result for a first year. We are all very proud of you.”

Keigo blushes a little, but nevertheless looks incredibly pleased. “Thank you, sensei.”

“As for you Todoroki…” she hesitates, her smile dimming as she turns towards Dabi. The chatting in the background immediately dies down, everyone eager to hear what she has to say about his abysmal score. She passes him his very short list and sort of grimaces apologetically, her expression full of misguided pity. “I’m sorry, I’m sure it must be pretty disappointing. I’m afraid the records weren’t really updated recently, so your latest progress wouldn’t have been there for the heroes to see.”

She seems completely unaware of the snickering and whispers that break out behind her. Dabi doesn’t really understand why she’s doing this. Is she truly that oblivious? Or does she enjoy publicly humiliating her students?

“It’s a bit of an oversight on our part, I admit. But, well, you don’t really need any other offers anyway, do you?”

She doesn’t linger after that, continuing over to the next kid eagerly waiting to learn of her fate. Her comment though, stupid as it is, prompts Dabi to actually glance down at his list. The name Endeavor screams back at him in all of its inked glory. Yeah, that would explain it. Dabi genuinely didn’t expect his father to make him an offer, but obviously, everyone else did. They probably assumed it was going to be the case from the very beginning and that’s why they didn’t bother updating his records. It might even be that some agencies considered inviting him, but decided not to based on that assumption.    

Damn, it really seems like Endeavor is ruining everything in his life simply by existing.

His father isn’t the only one on his list though and, somehow, that second person is even more surprising. Dabi reads the name at least three times to make sure his eyes are working correctly. He even briefly considers the possibility that it might be a misprint, but can’t think of a word that could be misspelled this badly.

“Eraserhead?” Keigo asks, shamelessly peeking at Dabi’s list. “Isn’t that the guy who...? Eh, you know, your hero friend?”

“Unfortunately,” Dabi grumbles, still staring intensely at the annoying piece of paper. Belatedly, he adds, “And he’s not my friend.”

In hindsight, maybe he should have seen it coming. After all, he’s Aizawa’s chosen charity case these days. Of course the man would do something like that, especially if he saw the tapes and figured nobody else would choose him. It might have even been touching if it wasn’t so annoying. Eraser already has his delusional ideas about Dabi’s potential as a hero – agreeing to do an internship with him would only serve to reinforce them.  

On the other hand, his only other choice is Endeavor…

Well. Eraserhead it is.

Keigo furrows his eyebrows. “So what, you’re going to work with your dad?”

“Oh, hell no.” Dabi shudders in disgust at the mere possibility. An entire week of having to watch his father pretend to be a good person, all while dressed in spandex, sounds like the worst nightmare ever. He would probably start puking after the first five minutes. “Eraser is a pain in the ass, but he’s million times better than the old man.”

At least he isn’t going to be yelled at the entire time. It might even be fun – like his vigilanting, but legal. He gets along with Aizawa well enough – although they definitely aren’t friends – and with him, Dabi won’t have to hide his experience or pretend to be someone he isn’t. And they fight well together too.

“You’re smiling,” Keigo says suddenly, looking suspicious.

It’s true. Dabi is smiling.

“I’ve just realized that interning with Eraser might actually be great. He knows what I’m capable of – he definitely won’t make me watch all the fighting from the side lines.” He pauses for a moment, his smile turning wry. “Although he might still make me make him coffee.”         

Keigo crosses his arms over the backseat of his chair and tilts his head, his leg dangling lazily back and forth. “Where did you even meet this guy?”

“He stalks me sometimes,” Dabi replies, shrugging. Keigo blinks at him blankly, which, to be fair, is a perfectly reasonable reaction. Dabi does not elaborate. “What about you? You’ve got a fuckton of heroes to choose from. Someone catch your eye?”

“I don’t know!” Keigo whines, glaring at his list as if it personally offended him. “Most of these people I’ve never even heard of! I mean, I knew there were a lot of heroes in Japan, it’s not like I expected to know everyone, but come on! This is just ridiculous! Magma-man? Purple Titan? BetaMind? Most of these sound like villain names!”

Dabi allows himself to laugh at his friend’s misfortune – if you can even call it that. He’s glad he doesn’t give a shit about his result, because otherwise he would probably be pretty irritated by the childish complaining. It’s like when your smart friend cries because they ‘only’ got 92% on their test, while you’re just sitting next to them with your 43%, feeling like an idiot.

“Oh shit,” Keigo whispers suddenly, his eyes widening as they fall on a particular name, and it must be something big, because Keigo doesn’t usually swear. Immediately, Dabi’s curiosity is piqued. 

“What?”

Keigo takes a moment to answer, his expression unreadable. The entire time, his gaze doesn’t stray from the list. “I got an offer from your dad.”

Dabi blinks, momentarily caught off guard, then laughs. “That son of a bitch… He’s really that desperate, huh?” Shaking his head in disbelief, Dabi leans back on his chair, more amused than irritated.

“Wait, you think he made me an offer to, what, bribe you?” Keigo’s face scrunches adorably. He looks properly insulted.

“Of course.” Dabi waves a hand dismissively, unimpressed with Enji’s cheap schemes. “He knew I would never willingly work with him, so he invited you as well to sweeten the deal.”

Honestly, it’s pretty obvious. Endeavor wants Dabi to do the internship with him, so he’s trying to tempt him with the possibility of doing it together with his ‘boyfriend’ – despite his constant yapping about ‘not condoning’ their alleged relationship. The man obviously knows he needs to offer Dabi something to convince him and, surprisingly, seems ready to put aside his homophobia if it serves to further his goals. It’s a smart plan, in theory, Dabi will give him that, but his father clearly underestimates how much Dabi resents the mere idea of spending any more time with him than strictly necessary, Keigo or no Keigo.  

What seems laughably obvious to him must not be so obvious to everyone else, if Keigo’s hurt expression is anything to go by. Dabi didn’t mean to imply he’s not good enough to be chosen for his skills – if anything, Endeavor is not good enough for Keigo – but he’s also pretty sure his father didn’t even watch any of those tapes, let alone paid enough attention to form an opinion on anyone other than Dabi.    

“Stop that,” he says irritably, rolling his eyes. “It’s not about you. Endeavor doesn’t do interns. And if he did, he would look for them in his beloved U.A. It’s only because he’s trying to be a ‘good father’ or whatever that he offered me a place and you by association. Nothing less, nothing more.”

Keigo hums thoughtfully, with his eyes glued to the list. The hurt disappears, hopefully alleviated, and is instead replaced with something much more calculating. “So, your dad doesn’t actually care if I’m good or not, he just wants to get you to accept his offer?”

“Most likely.”

“But you’re not going to accept it?”

“Nope.”

“Even if I’m there?”

“I would rather kill myself than spend an entire week dealing with both his usual bullshit and inevitable homophobia. Sorry.”

Patting his chin with his finger, Keigo is quiet for a long moment, clearly pondering on something  – which is a bad sign. Eventually, he appears to reach some satisfying conclusion, because he nods to himself and smirks devilishly – which is an even worse sign. A shiver of dread goes down Dabi’s spine even before his friend opens his mouth. There’s one thing this Keigo and his Hawks definitely have in common and it’s that Dabi hates when they have ideas.   

“Well,” Keigo says innocently, grinning like a cat that got a canary, “if your father was so nice as to extend an invitation to me, it would be incredibly rude I refused, wouldn’t it?”  

See? That’s what he’s talking about. Ideas. Bad ideas. Dabi is a firm believer that, between the two of them, he is the one who should have ideas. Keigo is just supposed to sit next to him and look pretty.

He makes sure to send the boy the most judgemental look he can possibly muster to make it clear what he thinks about this idiotic plan. He refuses to waste words to comment on something so incredibly stupid. The silence stretches between them, becoming more and more uncomfortable, until eventually Keigo starts fidgeting, losing his previous confidence.

“What?” he snaps, a little too defensively.

“I didn’t know you were a masochist,” Dabi says casually, quirking an eyebrow. “You should have told me. I’m not one to kinkshame.”

“Wha—I’m not a masochist!” Keigo splutters, his cheeks flushing just a tad bit pink.

“But you must be. Why else would you willingly condemn yourself to Endeavor’s presence?”

Keigo huffs, crossing his arms defensively. “He will be condemned to my presence. It’s payback. For treating me like some kind of bait for you.”

Okaaay. Dabi isn’t going to argue. He’s pretty sure all of that will end up hurting Keigo way more than it will hurt Endeavor, but, hey, if his friend wants to make awful life choices out of spite, let him. And if he ends up severely regretting it before the first day is even done, well, Dabi told him so, didn’t he?

“If that’s what you want, I’m not going to stop you.” He shrugs, twirling a pen between his fingers. “But don’t come crying to me when it bites you in the ass.”  

Keigo instantly turns defensive, because of course he does. Dabi isn’t expecting anything else. He’s already resigned himself to the mess this whole thing is inevitably going to cause. Especially because, knowing Keigo, he will probably take his words as a challenge, which is not really Dabi’s intention, but oh well. No one can say he didn’t try.

Fortunately for their mutual sanity, their conversation gets interrupted before Keigo can answer.    

“Alright, everyone done familiarizing yourself with your lists?”

Being the perfect student that he is, Keigo immediately turns his attention back to Astra, who is once again standing at the front of the classroom, her hands resting on her hips. Dabi sighs, puts his list on his desk upside down and leans back on his chair even more heavily. He really wishes he could just tune her out and have a little nap, especially since he’s already chosen who he’s going to intern with and doesn’t need any of her questionable advice, but alas, she would definitely make a fuss about it and he’s not in the mood to deal with it right now.

“I want you to research the Agencies you might be interested in and really think your choice through,” she continues, after getting a mildly enthusiastic murmur of affirmation as a response from the rest of the students. “You will inform me on our next meeting which hero you want to intern with, so make sure you make your decision by then. If you have any trouble deciding or would like any individual feedback, feel free to contact me. I will try to help as much as possible, but in the end, the decision must be yours. Understood?”

Another collective murmur spreads through the room, accompanied by some mechanical nods. Some very passionate soul even goes as far as to shout back a fervent ‘yes, sensei!’.

“Great.” She smiles at them again, but this time there’s an edge to it, like she’s in on a secret nobody else knows. It immediately puts Dabi on guard. “Now, we’re moving on to an even more exciting part. Ladies and gentlemen, today you will be choosing your hero names!”

Oh god.

“Choosing your hero name is one of the most important decisions you will make while you’re in this course. It will define what kind of hero you want to be, it’s going to be your trademark – your selling point, some might even say. The names you choose today are supposed to be temporary, and by this I mean that you’re allowed to change them before graduating, so don’t worry too much if you’re unsure what you want to be called. But keep in mind that most people will probably remember you by that first name, so don’t take it lightly either.”

Still talking, she walks over to her desk and grabs a thick stack of blank pieces of paper. She starts to distribute them to everyone, responding with a smile to every quiet ‘thank you’ she gets for her troubles. It’s only when she finally reaches Dabi that her face turns worried. No doubt she’s already imagining all the bullshit he could write and present as his hero name.  He takes the sheet from her without a word, grinning innocently.

“All of you will now think about the names that seem fitting. You can consult with your classmates – maybe one of their ideas will struck you as The One. Try to get creative but not too creative.” Again, her gaze flickers to Dabi. “It needs to be catchy, preferably short and it needs to show who you are. You will want to make it unique too, if you want to stand out from thousands of other heroes.”

Everyone is nodding along like a bunch of baby ducklings, some students already scribbling something down on their papers, some looking almost as distraught as Dabi feels. Keigo, naturally, is one of the former, writing furiously and almost vibrating in his seat with anticipation, no doubt eager to share with everyone his perfectly unique and marketable name. Dabi looks down on his blank piece of paper and imagines setting it on fire.   

“Sensei?” Some girl, who Dabi is, like, ninenty-six percent sure he has never seen before, raises her hand, shifting in her seat.

“Yes, Sanako?”

“What if someone really doesn’t know what name to choose? I’ve been thinking about it for years and I have some ideas, but none of them seem right and I can’t just commit to one of them. It’s too hard!”

“This is completely normal,” Astra says gently. “Settling on one name is pretty hard for some students, I’m aware. That’s why this is only a temporary name. You get to try it out, see if it fits and then you can keep it or not. I understand that you probably have thousands of ideas, but I’m afraid that you will have to settle on one today, if you want to do the internship.”

Sanako deflates, resigned and thoroughly unsatisfied with that answer, if her frown is anything to go by. Dabi isn’t sure what she expected. Those damned teachers will never give you a reply you’re looking for – all they can do is spew some meaningless bullshit that’s supposed to make you feel less shitty about your problem, but they never say anything actually helpful.

Astra is about to continue her explanation when another person raises a hand. This time, it’s a boy and this one Dabi sort of knows. It’s the quiet kid who Keigo sometimes talks to, the one that creeps Dabi out most of the time.

“Hisoki, you have a question?”

Hisoki, huh? Dabi glances at the list of offers on the blackboard. Lo and behold, there he is. Second place. Damn. Dabi is sort of impressed.

“Yes,” Hisoki says, sounding and looking incredibly bored, which, relatable. “Can we use our real names as hero names?”

The teacher winces slightly at first, but quickly schools her expression back to indifference. Even so, it’s pretty clear what her opinion is about such an idea.

“There isn’t any rule that says you can’t do it,” she explains, very obviously keeping her voice as neutral and unjudgmental as possible. “But I certainly wouldn’t advise it. Your hero name is supposed to catch people’s attention. A regular name seems too… bland. Don’t you think?”

Judging by Hisoki’s annoyed expression? No, he doesn’t. But, living up to his nickname as the Quiet Kid, he lets it go without a comment, instead going back to his sketching. Suddenly curious, Dabi takes a peek at what the boy is drawing – coincidentally, Hisoki is sitting exactly on his right – and sees something that looks suspiciously like a floor plan… of their school? Huh. Weird.

“Now, if there aren’t any more questions, I think we can begin,” Astra announces, a lot less enthusiastically than just a moment before. She probably expected their reactions to the topic to be a little more passionate. “I will give you twenty minutes to work on your names. After that you will present what you came up with to the rest of the class and I will tell you if your idea is good or if you may need to change something. Understood?”

The harmonious ‘yes’ of mediocre volume follows her question and so she smiles at them encouragingly. As everyone turns to their friends to eagerly discuss the assignment, she goes to sit behind her desk and pulls out a glossy magazine about motorcycles to occupy herself with. The moment her attention is no longer on them, at least half of the class reaches for their phones to desperately google something helpful. Dabi, on the other hand, only groans dramatically, hiding his face in his hands.

“Are you okay?” Keigo asks, although his voice has little concern to it.

“No.”

“Why?”

More groaning. “Because I’m an idiot.”    

Keigo snorts. “Tell me something I don’t already know.”

“Ha, ha, very funny,” Dabi deadpans, sending his friend a half-hearted glare. “You’re a real comedian.”

Keigo tilts his head, feigning confusion. “What, is it suddenly not funny when it’s you who’s being made fun of?”

“Sarcasm doesn’t suit you,” Dabi mumbles and it’s absolutely a lie, but Keigo doesn’t need to know that.

His friend laughs at him, again, and for a moment, Dabi considers what consequences setting those red feathers on fire would have. Not ones he wants to deal with, most likely, but it’s still tempting.  

“But seriously, what’s wrong?” Keigo drapes himself over the back of his seat again, looking at Dabi with genuine curiosity. “Don’t tell me it’s about the name? I thought we both wouldn’t have a problem with that.”

Because they wouldn’t, at least not until Dabi appeared and fucked everything up. Regardless if it was still chosen for him or he chose it himself, Keigo has made up his mind about his hero name a long time ago. He’s Hawks and that’s it. Touya’s hero name, on the other hand, was supposedly going to be Dabi. Which, there’s nothing wrong with that name – it’s a little dark for a hero, sure, but people these days like a bit of edge – in fact, Dabi would love to use it, to have people call him by his chosen name again. There’s only one slight problem he has not accounted for.

His vigilante persona is already called Dabi.

He could, technically, choose that name anyway and if someone bothered to ask, he could just say the vigilante was an inspiration for it. People are idiots, some of them would believe it. Still, it seems unnecessarily risky. How many crime-fighting teenagers with blue fire quirk could there be? And both of them decide on the same name? Even someone as dumb as Kaneko would probably be able to connect the dots.

“You won’t have a problem,” he mumbles, barely stopping himself from pouting. “But how long do you think it would take them to realise there’s another Dabi out there, one that most of them would love to see behind bars?”

Keigo’s face turns sour and he crosses his arms. “Well, you should have thought about it beforehand. I told you your carelessness would end up biting you in the ass.”

Graciously, Dabi pretends not to hear that last part. He’s not in the mood for another argument. “How was I supposed to know it would be a problem? This whole hero thing was never meant to go this far! The only reason I didn’t quit on the spot was to keep up appearances. Hero names was literally the last thing I was worried about!”

Damn school, damn heroes, and damn Keigo with his annoyingly condescending expression. This was never supposed to happen. And now he’s going to get stuck with something ridiculous as his hero name, like Dynamight or, god forbid, Deku. As if having a hero name at all wasn’t embarrassing enough.

“Look, I know it sucks, but it’s your own fault for not foreseeing this being a problem. Dabi is clearly compromised. You will just have to choose something else.”

“I don’t want anything else.”    

Call him childish, but he can’t imagine using any other name. Dabi is him, it’s his identity, the first thing he’s ever chosen for himself. Coming up with something else, some meaningless nickname for the masses to get on tacky t-shirts, feels like a betrayal. It’s enough that he’s never going to get away from being ‘Endeavor’s son’. The least he deserves is to be called by something true.

Likely picking up on Dabi’s souring mood, Keigo sighs, his features softening. His eyes shine with painful understanding, and, for a moment, Dabi’s throat tightens uncomfortably. When his friend finally speaks, he does it reluctantly, hesitantly, as though carefully picking every word, “I mean... you said you weren’t using your quirk to do your vigilante stuff, right?” Dabi nods slowly, already suspecting where Keigo is going with this. “Well, that means you don’t actually qualify as a vigilante, at least not officially. So... maybe... it wouldn’t be the end of the world if they found out?”

Maybe. Or maybe they would arrest him for that few times he did end up using his quirk. Like that time he got stabbed and, oh yeah, involved in a mass homicide. Not to mention everything else. He hasn’t forgotten Aizawa’s warnings. Assault, he called it? Yeah, that. That would probably still get him in trouble. And even if he managed to avoid jail, they could still expel him. Or worse, tell his parents.

(Not that he gives a shit what Endeavor thinks about his choice of entertainment. His father can choke for all he cares. His mother, on the other hand, is a totally different story.)

He grimaces. “I would prefer if they didn’t.”

“Come up with a different name then.” Keigo shrugs, feigning indifference. It’s still glaringly obvious how relieved he is that Dabi didn’t actually take his advice. “There’s not much else you can do.”

Unfortunately, he has to admit Keigo is right. If he’s not willing to risk exposing his secret identity, he’s gonna have to come up with something else. He still thinks it’s not fair, but, well, life rarely is. All he can really do now is create something equally cool. Which is easier said than done.   

The first brilliant idea he gets is to steal a name from someone from the future, which is lazy, sure, but at least better than googling. Would any of the League’s names work?

Could he call himself Spinner? It’s probably the most ‘nicknamey’ nickname the League has to offer. He discards it quickly though, cause it makes no sense – after all, he’s not really spinning anything. Although, come to think of it, Spinner didn’t either. Huh. Twice is equally bad. Twice what? ‘I can burn you twice, you will save money on the funeral?’ Yeah, maybe not. Shigaraki? That’s probably too dark for a hero name. And it sucks anyway.

Deciding that perhaps he shouldn’t be trying to copy names from villains for his hero name, he instead focuses on those U.A. brats they used to fight. One of them, the angry one, had an especially nice name, something like Lord Explosion Murder? Dabi could totally see himself using that, even if it’s a little cringy. His own little brother, similarly to Hisoki, that quiet kid, went the unoriginal route and put his actual name as his hero name. Dabi could do that too, he guesses, as a weird tribute to Touya, whose life he kind of stole. But the thought leaves a bad taste in his mouth. Dabi is way too cool to have his hero name be so boring.

“Dabi-man.”

“What?”

“My new name,” Dabi explains, smiling innocently. “Dabi-man. Sounds cool, right?”

Keigo stares at him blankly. “No. No, it doesn’t.”

“What? Why not?”

“It—It’s stupid! And it’s exactly the same name!”

Dabi makes an offended face. “It’s not the same.”

“It might as well be!” Exasperated, Keigo first throws his hands, then sighs, pinches his nose and closes his eyes, clearly praying for patience. “Sometimes I wonder if you’re always making fun of me or if you’re just… like that.”

Dabi smiles mysteriously. “Maybe it’s both.”

“Maybe you’re just a pain in my ass,” his friend grumbles under his breath. Then, as soon as his words truly register in his mind, his eyes widen comically and his head shoots up, one finger pointed at Dabi’s chest in a silent warning. “Don’t say a word.”

Feigning innocence, Dabi raises his hands in a defensive gesture. “I’m not saying anything.”

“Oh, how I wish it was true.”

At least three people in their vicinity follow that statement with a more or less quiet ‘same’.

In no time at all, it’s time to present what their small brains managed to come up with to the rest of the class. Unsurprisingly, Dabi has not experienced any strikes of miraculous creativity, so his sheet remains blank. Others appear to have been more successful though. Naturally, no one is suicidal enough to volunteer to go first and so Astra picks a random person from the end row, which immediately proves to be a bad idea, because the poor shaking boy trips at least three times on his way to the front and seems to be on a verge of passing out. It’s really sad what the idea of public speaking can do to a person.

The boy successfully shows them his hero name, eventually, and does not pass out, even when someone – Dabi’s money is on Kaneko – lets out a rather loud snort. The name is generic and a little cringy, and rings absolutely no bells in Dabi’s mind, so the boy either never becomes a successful hero, decides to change his name later on or dies tragically before he can be remembered.

It continues like this, with Astra picking people at random and forcing them to humiliate themselves in front of everyone. Most of the names end up being either alright or slightly embarrassing, which, nothing new here – in Dabi’s opinion, most hero names are ridiculous – although a few people get told to rethink their choice, especially the one boy who (accidentally?) put down the name of a notable gay porn star.  

When it’s finally Hisoki’s turn, it goes exactly as Dabi expects. The boy walks to the front with a bored expression, shows everyone a sheet with ‘Hisoki’ written on it for exactly five seconds, doesn’t offer any comments and gets back to his seat before Astra can say anything about his choice.

Gotta respect the absolute zero shits this guy has to give.

Keigo goes up next, all wide grins and easy confidence. He’s like a shining star compared to the rest of these boring losers. All eyes are on him, some respectful, some jealous, some hateful, but nevertheless filled with anticipation. Keigo’s wings flutter under the attention and if one of them ‘accidentally’ hits Kaneko in the face as he passes him, well, no one can prove anything.

Once he stands at the front, he’s basically vibrating with excitement. He glances at Dabi in particular, smirking smugly as he proudly shows everyone his paper with ‘Hawks’ scribbled on it in red marker. Dabi debates rolling his eyes, but somehow, only ends up smiling fondly.

“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m talking about!” Astra beams at Keigo, even going so far as to clap a little. Someone doesn’t even hide having her favourites, does she? “A very good name, Takami. Short, but to the point, catchy and something you. I’m sure it will serve you well.”

“Thanks!” Keigo shoots her what Dabi calls his hero-smile, soaking up the praise like a dry sponge. “I came up with it a long time ago and I couldn’t wait to finally use it.”

“You will have plenty of chances to use it from now on,” she assures him, patting his shoulder. Some of their classmates simply roll their eyes at the disgusting display but Dabi is different. He pretends to gag instead, to fully show just how unimpressed he is. It earns him a small glare from Keigo. Astra either doesn’t notice or is very good at pretending. “I’m sure we will be hearing all about Hawks and his achievements soon enough.”

If what happened just a moment ago is what it’s like all the time, then Dabi can now kinda see why their classmates don’t like Keigo very much. Nobody likes a teacher’s pet. Usually not even the teachers.

As if being able to tell what’s on Dabi’s mind, Keigo sends him yet another glare on his way back, before slumping into his seat without a word. Dabi chuckles at his friend’s antics, kicking the back of his chair a few times just to be annoying.

“Todoroki, if you could stop harassing your classmate and share with us your hero name, that would be wonderful,” Astra addresses him, her voice a lot less friendly than just a moment before when she was singing Keigo’s praises.

Not everyone can be a favourite, he sighs to himself mournfully.

“I can share the name, professor, but I’m not sure about that first part,” he replies with a cheeky grin playing on his lips.

Not waiting for her to respond – he doubts it would be anything substantial anyway – he thinks to himself fuck it, grabs a pen to hastily jot down his chosen name and then makes his way to the front of the class, his heart pounding in his chest, the piece of paper gripped tightly in his hand. He makes sure to smack Kaneko in the face with it as he goes and, in his case, there’s nothing accidental about it.

“Oopsy.”

“You…!” the catboy hisses after him, no doubt turning all red from all that anger, although Dabi can’t be bothered to turn around and check for sure. It’s not like Kaneko can do anything to him other than seethe with their teacher present.

Astra rubs her temple. “Todoroki, please.”

“What? It was an accident.” He shrugs, taking his place in front of everyone and levelling them with what he hopes is a deadpan look.

Astra shakes her head, but wisely lets it go and simply waves a hand at him to get on with it. So he forces himself to stop being so fucking nervous, reminds himself that he loves taking unnecessary risks and raises his paper with a sharp smile, daring them to say anything.

No one does, to his disappointment. Which is stupid, because he definitely should be glad that not many of them seem to even recognize the name, let alone connect him to the original user. He very specifically hoped for this to be the case.   

Luckily for his drama loving self, there’s one person who doesn’t disappoint. Astra’s eyebrows travel all the way to her hairline, equally surprised and disturbed. For a moment, she’s silent, biting her lip and contemplating how to proceed. Finally, she clears her throat.

“Well, I must say it’s a rather bold choice,” she says, eyeing him not with suspicion, as he might have expected, but with weary sort of exasperation. “Not a very heroic name, is it?”

Dabi shrugs again, because being heroic is literally the least of his concerns. “It’s what my quirk does.”

“And the connection to the newest vigilante is merely a coincidence?”

“I might be a fan,” he admits easily, knowing that playing stupid would only raise more red flags. However, he can’t help but add, “After all, vigilantes actually do something to help people, unlike most of the so-called heroes.”

Astra seems taken aback by the bitterness in his tone, but collects herself quickly. The look she sends him still isn’t suspicious in the slightest, only infuriatingly condescending. “Now, that’s just not true. Especially with a father like yours, Todoroki, you should know how much we do to help. Are you sure it’s not a childish obsession with a romanticised idea of vigilantism that’s clouding your judgement?”

Oh, hello homicidal urges, it’s been a while. He’s been worried he might be losing his edge. It’s such a shame that murdering his homeroom teacher would probably not look too well on his future résumé.

“My father is the shittiest hero of all,” he sneers, eliciting a wave of offended gasps.

The mindless admiration for his useless sperm donor is pathetic, and although he’s mostly used to it, it still manages to piss him off. Any enjoyment he would usually get from being a nuisance is overshadowed by the sudden bitterness that rises up his throat and threatens to choke him. He might have even stopped himself at this point – decided this bunch of nobodies isn’t worth wasting his breath and let it go – were it not for Keigo frantically shaking his head at him. The silent, desperate plea of ‘please, don’t’ is, paradoxically, what pushes him over the edge. Why is he the one in the wrong here? Why is he not allowed to state his opinions? Just because they’re controversial? Why should he care whether people like what he thinks or not? He wasn’t going to say anything. Astra started it. She brought it on herself, having the gall to question his chosen name, after she allowed some girl to call herself Pissy without a single comment.

“And I don’t think it’s my judgement that’s clouded. You’ve let the hero society twist your perception of reality. Vigilantes are what true heroes should be. They help people without expecting any reward for it. They don’t give a shit about fame, money or glory. Their aim is protecting people nobody else will protect.” He meets Astra’s gaze unflinchingly, and, for a second, wonders whether she can see the flames raging in his eyes. His next words are meant to be mocking, but, somehow, only end up being filled with ceaseless resentment, “Meanwhile, all pro heroes care about is some worthless ranking.”

“Vigilantes,” Astra responds calmly, seemingly unmoved, “are nothing more than common criminals, falsely attaching values to their crimes.” She purses her lips and gives him a look that is somehow filled with both pity and disappointment. He resist the urge to bare his teeth at her. “There’s nothing differentiating them from villains. The laws controlling quirk use are there for a reason. Anyone disregarding them endangers our society in ways you couldn’t even imagine. Whatever delusions you harbour about vigilantes, you’d better get rid of them quickly or you will never get any respect as a hero.”

“Hm, let me think about it,” he says, putting one hand under his chin, and pretends to consider her words. After less than a second, he lets his hand fall and shoots her an ugly smile. “No, thanks.”

Astra bristles. “Todoroki—”

“The only thing heroes have that vigilantes don’t is a funny piece of plastic,” he cuts her off, almost spitting the words at her. “You’ve clearly never met an actual villain if you think vigilantes are anything like that. They protect places that your beloved heroes can’t be bothered to, places too poor or not fancy enough to be worth the trouble, and yes, sometimes they use violence to do that, but so what? Heroes use violence all the time, often more than necessary, and no one bats an eye! Do you want me to tell you how many civilians ended up with burns just because my dear father wasn’t careful enough during his fights? Or how many villains have died by his hand? Does it matter to you at all or are their lives worth less because they were ‘evil’?” He lets the silence settle over the room, broken only by his quickened breathing. When Astra doesn’t immediately respond, he offers her another twisted smile. “You don’t want to admit it, but the truth is, the only reason top heroes aren’t labelled as villains is because their murders are considered legal.”

“Enough,” Astra’s sharp tone cracks like a whip across the stifling silence. He has never seen her this angry before – and he’s seen her angry a lot those last few weeks. He’s already starting to regret running his mouth, especially knowing his words most likely fell on deaf ears, but still, he’s not about to back down. He grips his paper with ‘Dabi’ hastily drawn on it tighter and holds his head up high. “You have no idea what you’re talking about and I don’t want to hear any more of that nonsense. Sit down, Todoroki.”

Deciding not to waste anymore words on her, he salutes her mockingly and walks back to his seat.

He wonders if anyone noticed the fact that she never actually responded to any of his arguments. He wonders if it would matter if anyone did. He’s not stupid enough to believe his words are going to convince any of those hero-worshipping brats to start thinking more critically about their society, but, well, if he can plant some seeds of doubt in at least one head of what is supposed to be the future of this country, isn’t it worth it?

Right after he throws himself back onto his chair and lets the damned piece of paper fall to the ground, Keigo turns to him with his usual disapproving look. Although, after closer consideration, there seems to be a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Well,” his friend says wryly, “that wasn’t suspicious at all.”

Dabi groans, wishing more than ever that he had just killed himself the moment his mother said ‘high school’.

***

The classes end without any more excitement – except maybe for that one lucky shot he manages during dodgeball that hits Kaneko straight in the face and gives him a pretty little black eye – and soon Dabi is depositing Keigo to his upperclassmen friends for their weekly girls night out.  

“We will bring him back before ten, don’t worry,” Rumi says teasingly, but her smile is sharp and her eyes are drilling holes into his face. She grabs Keigo’s arm and pulls him into a weirdly possessive half-embrace, as though daring Dabi to protest. “We’re nice like that. Unlike some people.”

Yu, who’s standing next to Rumi, is observing the confrontation with her usual silent amusement, although there is a noticeable strain to her shoulders. They’re both still cross with him for the little fight he had with Keigo, it seems. Which, considering Rumi’s impressive shovel talk, is definitely not good for him.

Keigo groans. “Rums, I told you, we talked about it—”

The girl rolls her eyes. “Yes, yes, he apologized. Whatever. He’s still an asshole.”

“Thank you,” Dabi replies with a grin, hoping to hide the sudden urge to flee. Say whatever you want, but any version of Miruko is fucking terrifying. Especially one that would love to kick your face.

“Shut up,” the girl snaps, crossing her arms. “Next time you make Keigo sad, I will snap all the bones in your body. Understood?”

“Perfectly.” He shoots her an uneasy smile, taking a cautious step back. “Well, I won’t take any more of your time then. Have fun with Bridget Jones or whatever.”

Yu is the only one to return the smile. “Actually, it’s Barbie this time.”

Right.

He waves them goodbye after that, eager to leave as quickly as possible lest Rumi changes her mind and decides to kill him there and then. He walks all the way to the front gate, from where he can already see his chauffeur waiting for him, but doesn’t immediately get in. Instead, he leans against the wall, pulls out his phone and locates the number he needs.

“What?” a gruff voice answers after almost six signals, accompanied by unmistakeable rustling of bedsheets.  

Puzzled, Dabi looks up at the sun high in the sky, then at the hour on his phone screen.

“Eraser! So nice to hear from you,” he greets the man brightly despite his confusion, enjoying the pained groan that his words elicit. “Isn’t it a little too late to still be sleeping?”

“Not when you work nights.”

Dabi clicks his tongue in disappointment. “I’m not sleeping.”   

“You’re not working.”

An offended gasp. “How can you say that?”

Aizawa sighs, most likely seconds away from hanging up. “Is there a point to this call?”

Right, there is a reason for this call. It definitely isn’t that it’s so fun to annoy Eraser or anything. Although, that’s a nice bonus.

Still, he forces himself to get to the point. “Since when do you do interns?”

There’s a moment of silence, some more sounds of sheets rustling, then another pained sigh. If Dabi was a better person, maybe he would feel a little bad for waking the man up – he obviously doesn’t get enough sleep. But alas, he is, as Rumi nicely put it, an asshole. And anyway, Aizawa brough it on himself the moment he decided to become Dabi’s stalker.

“They told you already, huh?”   

“Yup. Imagine my surprise when I saw your name on my list.”

“It was probably the only name there,” Aizawa huffs, amusement colouring his voice, and he isn’t wrong, but it doesn’t mean he has to say that. “That file of yours was pathetic.”

Ah, right, the mysterious file that Dabi knows nothing about. Earlier, Keigo made it sound like it wasn’t that bad – but then again, isn’t he kind of biased? If this Touya’s control over his quirk was anything like Dabi’s at that age, then there wouldn’t be a lot to show in that file that wouldn’t make most people wince in sympathy. Or pity.

Maybe it’s a good thing he hasn’t got a chance to see those records. If even Aizawa thinks it’s pathetic, then it would definitely be a nightmare to watch.

“Close,” he replies, keeping his voice cheerful and completely unbothered. “Endeavor was nice enough to send me an offer too.”

More silence. For a second Dabi entertains a thought that maybe Aizawa has fallen back asleep, but then the hero asks, “Are you going to accept it?” 

Dabi ignores the idiotic question. Meanwhile, a breath of wind brings an empty coca-cola can rolling down the pavement right in front of him. He spares a moment to think that it would probably still be a better mentor than his father could ever hope to be. Suddenly, the chauffeur rolls the car window down to send him a questioning look. Dabi waves him off, but still pushes himself away from the wall and makes his way towards the car.   

“How do you even know where I go to school?” he asks Aizawa as he opens the backseat door and gets inside, which, unsurprisingly, earns him a concerned glance from the chauffeur. “Is stalking teenage boys some kind of fucked up hobby for you?”

“It’s public knowledge.” Dabi can hear the eyeroll in Aizawa’s tired voice. “Also, you might not know that, but children of important heroes are a popular topic for gossip. Endeavor’s in particular, since he keeps you all as secret as possible. If your records weren’t so pitiful, you would be drowning in offers – especially from people aiming to piss your father off.”

“It’s not my fault they didn’t bother to update those stupid files,” he mumbles, resting his forehead against the cold class of the window.   

“If you ask me, you’re lucky your performance on that file is so awful. At least that way no one is going to suspect you of your... nightly activities.”

“You’re making it sound like I’m a hooker or something.”

Another concerned glance from the chauffeur. Has no one ever told him not to eavesdrop on private conversations?

Aizawa doesn’t grace that with an answer. “Are you going to accept your father’s offer or not?”

“No,” Dabi scoffs, spreading himself comfortably over the backseats, not caring for a seatbelt or any other kind of safety measure. Staring at the white ceiling of the car, he lets the hand that’s not busy holding the phone drum a rhythm with its fingers on his stomach. “It’s enough that I have to see him at home. An entire week, one on one? I would rather die.”

“So I guess that means I will be seeing you in two weeks?”

“I don’t have any other choice, do I?” Dabi asks and ignores the little voice in his head telling him he would most likely choose Eraser anyway. “At least you won’t treat me like I’m some useless child.”

“Won’t I?” The smirk in the man’s voice is really getting on Dabi’s nerves.

“Ha, ha,” he deadpans, rolling his eyes. His body decides to defy him though, since he can feel a small smile growing on his face without his permission. 

After a short pause, Aizawa speaks again, his voice groggy. “Was that everything?”

Dabi hums. “I suppose. Mostly I just wanted to know why you would make me an offer when you’re constantly complaining how much of a pain in the ass I am.”

“I’m asking myself exactly the same question,” Aizawa grumbles and then pauses to yawn. “Maybe I just thought that having authority over you would be entertaining.”

“Good luck with that,” Dabi snorts. “You should know by now that I don’t really do well with authorities.”

“Unfortunately, I have an idea.” Aizawa stops to yawn again and when he continues, his voice sounds half-asleep already, “Well, if that’s all, then I would like to go back to sleep. Don’t bother me anymore.”

“Sure, sure, goodnight or whatever.” Dabi waves his hand dismissively, even if Eraser can’t see it. “See you later?”

“Not today,” Aizawa says unexpectedly. “I’m on vacation until the end of the week. So, if you get stabbed again, call someone else.”

“You’re heartless, Eraser.”

“Goodbye.”

And then all Dabi can hear is an annoying beeping of a finished call.

Chapter Text

Dabi wakes up on the Saturday morning with a looming sense of premonition. 

He lets out a yawn as he stretches his sore muscles, then reaches for his phone to check the time. It’s a bit too early for his taste – especially considering he only got back home from his vigilanting gig around three in the morning – but the loud voices from downstairs peak his curiosity enough to chase any remaining sleepiness away. There’s a message from Keigo waiting for him, reading simply we still on for today?? to which he quickly replies yes, before dragging himself out of bed to put on some loose tank top and black shorts, lest he be called ‘indecent’ again, and then heading towards the dining room with his eyes still half-closed, following the delicious smell of breakfast.

Everyone’s already eating when he arrives – and really, why is it that they have to wait for Endeavor to start but not for him? – and although the atmosphere isn’t quite as tense as it used to be during their so-called ‘family meals’ – in fact, as he already took notice of, it’s unusually lively – it’s still apparent that every word spoken by his siblings or his mother is deliberately careful, followed by cautious looks towards their father as though waiting for him to snap at them. However, the man seems fully absorbed in his food, avoiding everyone’s eyes and, for once, keeping his mouth shut.

“Touya.” Rei perks up once she sees him, offering him a warm smile that he finds himself unconsciously returning. “Good morning.”

Fuyumi doesn’t look up from whatever has her preoccupied on her phone, but Natsuo waves at him enthusiastically and Shouto gives him a solemn nod. Endeavor glances up from his food to size him up, as though hoping to find something he can criticize and put some normalcy back to their family dynamic, but even though the man’s face twists in displeasure at the sight of him – the feeling being entirely mutual, of course –  he visibly bites his tongue before he can make any rude comments and looks away. Dabi rolls his eyes at his father’s childish behaviour, earning himself a chuckle from Natsuo.

“Hi,” he mumbles as he takes his usual seat, reaching lazily for a spoon and starting to eat his half-cold cereal. He’s pretty sure this is his mother’s revenge for his recent less than polite reactions to being woken up before ten. 

“Did you sleep well?” his mother asks, smiling innocently, as she grabs his empty cup and pours him some tea. He takes it as a peace-offering it is and doesn’t mention the soggy cereal.

“Thanks,” he says instead, smiling wryly. He can’t even be too mad, because any act of rebelliousness from her feels like a precious gift these days, even if it’s aimed at him. “I slept fine.”

“We heard,” Fuyumi comments dryly as she finally unsticks herself from her phone. “You snore like a walrus.”

Dabi’s smile immediately gets wiped off his face. He gasps, offended. “I do not.”

“You kinda do,” Natsuo says, you know, like a traitor. He’s grinning like one too. “It’s almost impressive.”

He rolls his eyes. “Fuck all of you.” He ignores their snickering and his mother’s disapproving stare, sticking another spoon of food into his mouth. Once he swallows, he decides to change the subject before they can truly gang up on him, “Anyway, how about you stop bullying me and tell me what got you all so worked up, hm?”

Immediately, Natsuo’s face brightens and he almost jumps out of his seat from barely contained excitement. Fuyumi’s enthusiasm is less obvious, but it’s definitely there – she’s smiling more freely than usual and there’s a spark in her eyes betraying her eagerness. Even Shouto, the pinnacle of stoicism, seems to be having trouble keeping still. Something big must have happened to have them all so animated. Dabi isn’t sure if he should join them in their joy or start dreading for his life.  

“We’re going to a museum!” Natsuo announces, literal stars in his eyes, grinning so widely it almost looks painful.

Dabi, whose main association with a word ‘museum’ is dusty old stuff and lots of boring old men talking, blinks in confusion. “Okay?”

“Are you coming with us?” his brother pushes, not discouraged at all by Dabi’s lukewarm response. The expression on his face is so hopeful Dabi swallows back his initial answer – a firm no way – and allows himself to actually consider the proposition.  

He doesn’t really want to go. He’s already got plans, plus, as much as he enjoys spending time with his family, doing it at a museum of all places sounds more like a chore than any real entertainment. Not to mention Endeavour is sure to tag along, which just makes the concept all the more unappealing. He would much rather spend his weekend lazing around with Keigo.

On the other hand... His siblings clearly want him to come. And he doesn’t want to disappoint them, especially when they’re so excited about it. They were never allowed to go anywhere as a family, at least before Endeavor’s magical change of heart, and the one time Dabi did try to take them out... well, he’s lucky his brothers did not end up absolutely terrified of him after that complete disaster. He’s pretty sure at least Natsuo still has nightmares about it – although it seems like he’s more scared for Dabi than of him, thank gods. Still, the point is, he would like to make it up to them somehow, this missed opportunity. The fact that their father is agreeing to this museum idea – and, well, he’s still engrossed in his food and not protesting, so Dabi assumes it means he’s agreeing – is huge and Dabi knows he would be an idiot to not take advantage of that, if not for his sake than for his siblings’. The idea of museums might be fundamentally boring, but it definitely beats never going anywhere at all.

“He won’t go,” Fuyumi scoffs when he stays silent, hesitant, a bit too long. She sends him a heated glare, but no amount of anger can hide the bitter disappointment behind it. “He doesn’t want to spend time with his family.”

Dabi purses his lips. “I like spending time with my family,” he emphasizes the last word. He points his spoon at the silent Endeavor with a grimace. “It’s him I don’t want to spend time with.”

What? He can’t simply agree. It wouldn’t suit his image.

His father’s sharp gaze lets him know that the man isn’t too keen on spending time with him either. The man’s face is twisted into a scowl and his fists are clenched around his coffee mug so tightly that Dabi is worried he might end up breaking it, but miraculously, he still doesn’t comment.

“Come on, Touya, it will be fun,” Rei tries to persuade him, her voice soothing even as her eyes dart to Endeavor nervously. The man is a ticking bomb and they all know it’s just a matter of time until something sets him off, no matter what bullshit talk about redemption he tries to feed them. “There will be an All Might exhibition. I thought you liked him?”

What? Dabi snorts into his milk, splashing it around as he chokes on his laughter. Him? An All Might fan? Shigaraki would dust him a long time ago if that was even remotely true – not that he hasn’t tried anyway, but that was just harmless fun between friends… mostly. The point is, he’s definitely not an All Might fan. Where did they even get that from?

And wait, how did they convince Endeavor to go see a fucking All Might exhibition? Seriously, what?

“Is this about the posters?” He makes a disgusted face as he wipes the milk from his face. “You have to know I only had them to piss father off. I hate All Might.”

You will have to forgive him, Stain. All Might just isn’t doing it for him. Too flashy, too smiling, too cringy. Just too much in general. Besides, it’s kind of hard to like someone who’s partly responsible for how fucked up your life turned out to be, whether they’re aware they had a part in it or not.

“I knew it,” Endeavor mutters under his breath with honestly weirdly high amount of satisfaction. Dabi pretends he doesn’t hear it.

Instead, he frowns, the looming dread from earlier returning stronger than ever. “Wait, what kind of museum are we even talking about here?”

“It’s a hero museum!” Of course it is. “It’s only just opened, like, today. There’s going to be tons of heroes there, and panels, and expositions, and everything! You need to come with us!”   

“I’m sure there will be something interesting for you there too, Touya,” Rei adds, smiling indulgingly at Natsuo’s enthusiasm. “And I think it would be nice for us to spend more time together.”

Dabi shrugs, sipping on his tea. “Sure, spending time together sounds great. As long as he’s not there.” He narrows his eyes at the man, who doesn’t even have a decency to look at him, still stubbornly staring at his food. The only sign that he’s listening is the way his shoulders sag suddenly, as though in resignation, and it’s almost pitiful.

Not that Dabi has any pity left for him.

“See? I told you,” Fuyumi sighs, and she doesn’t even sound victorious about being right, only sad. She sags in her seat, lips forming into a pout. “He clearly hates dad more than he cares about us.”

“Fuyumi, don’t say that,” Rei chastises her, but she’s visibly disappointed too. And, oh wow, Natsu is giving him the puppy eyes now, great, while Shouto is just staring at him blankly in utter disapproval. It’s like he’s a villain or something.

Which is ridiculous, if you ask him. Since when is he the bad guy here?

“Fine, I will go to your stupid museum, jeez.” He rolls his eyes and stabs a piece of cereal with his spoon. Stupid guilt tripping, stupid family, stupid not being evil anymore. He demands a refund. “Chill with the emotional manipulation, would you?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” his sister says, smiling innocently. She looks awfully satisfied with herself though, and there’s no sign of her previous sadness, which is all the proof he needs that she is in fact an evil genius. The problem is, knowing you’re being manipulated doesn’t make resisting it any easier.   

Yes, he’s weak. Yes, he loves his family too much to purposefully make them sad. And what does it get him? A trip to a freaking hero museum. With Endeavor.

Fuck, Shigaraki would probably die laughing if he could see him now. What has he become?

“Cheer up, brother! I heard they also have a Gang Orca exhibition! You like him, don’t you?” Natsuo grins at him knowingly and Dabi can’t help but bark a laugh at that.

“Alright, alright, you convinced me.” He raises his hands in defeat. Rei smiles at him so brightly it’s almost overwhelming and so he has to look away, his cheeks warming a little. “How could I say no to Gang Orca?”

“That’s what she said,” Fuyumi coughs into her fist, as though that would somehow prevent them from hearing her. Dabi’s so proud of her for even making that joke he forgets to get offended.

And well, there’s really nothing to get offended about. If he wasn’t a taken man... who knows? Gang Orca is pretty hot. In a weird, furry kind of way.

Then again, his boyfriend is a bird, so he really has no room to talk.  

“Maybe mum can ask him to marry her then,” Shouto says, with the kind of utter seriousness only someone with absolutely no concept of shame can achieve.

Dabi and Natsu burst out laughing, first because of what Shouto said and then because of the face Endeavor makes. Their father blinks, baffled, his eyes darting around to stare at every single one of them as though he expects the answer to the inside joke he’s clearly not in on to be written on one of their faces. Rei shoots her husbands an alarmed look, bracing for a possible outburst, but the man is too confused to get angry.

Fuyumi sends them all a scathing glare. “Mum isn’t marrying Gang Orca, Shou,” she says sharply.

“Not yet, she isn’t,” Dabi whispers to Natsuo conspirationally and they both start snickering again.

“I… don’t think I want to know what this is about?” Endeavor says eventually, after clearing his throat. He’s frowning now, but at least he seems to be aware they’re mostly joking. Even so, Rei shakes her head frantically, eager to change the topic before the man’s unusual leniency runs out.

Shouto pouts, clearly disappointed. He furrows his brows, staring accusingly at his older brothers. “Don’t say things if you don’t mean them.”

Dabi snorts. “It’s called a joke, Shou.”

“You’re a joke,” Shouto shoots back, crossing his little arms over his chest.

Which promptly shuts Dabi up, to an infinite delight of his grinning sister. Shouto’s expression betrays nothing, but Dabi knows the little demon is laughing at him. He vows to himself he will get revenge for this outrageous slander as soon as possible. Shouto better watch out.    

“Alright, back to the topic,” Rei states firmly, even though she’s visibly fighting a smile of her own. No matter how uncomfortable she is with the topic of their jokes, the fact that they are joking around with each other at all and not getting yelled at for it is enough to make her happy. “Since it’s the opening day, there’s going to be a lot of people there and, most importantly, lots of heroes making guest appearances. I want you to behave, okay?”

For some reason, everyone’s eyes fall on him. He wants to feel insulted by the immediate assumption that he would be the one causing trouble, but he’s self-aware enough to recognize that it’s probably not incorrect. Still, they could have been a little nicer about it.

Sighing dramatically, he nods. “Fine, fine, I promise I won’t cause trouble.”

“I will believe it when I see it,” his father comments gruffly. Dabi, who is perfectly capable of not causing trouble for one day, thank you very much, once again ignores him.  

“What about you?” he asks instead, tilting his head in what he hopes comes across as innocent curiosity. “Shouldn’t you also be making a ‘guest appearance’, since you’re such a great hero and all?” He makes sure his voice is dripping with sarcasm, cocking an eyebrow. “Or did they not build an Endeavor exhibition because they knew nobody would be interested in it anyway?”

There’s a crack as Endeavor’s grip on his chopsticks tightens, and when he opens his fist, what’s left of them is a mess of chips and splinters. Everyone holds their breath for a very long second, but all the man does is calmly get the remains off his palms and onto his empty plate. Next, with only a small twitch of the vein of his forehead indicating his rising irritation, the man reaches for his coffee to take a large sip before finally responding.

“I will have you know, my son, that they did in fact build an Endeavor exhibition. Indeed, it’s one of the biggest ones in the entire museum,” Endeavor informs him, sounding so proud someone would have thought he was talking about his dick. “As for my guest appearances, I specifically requested to have them moved to different days so we could have our trip undisturbed. Which you would know, if you had come down earlier.”

Wait, what?

Any smartass retorts die on his tongue as his poor brain attempts to make sense of what he’s hearing. It was Endeavor’s idea to take them to this museum? What? That’s... that’s ridiculous. His father would never willingly have them do something entirely for fun, change of heart or not. He’s just not capable of it, not with that huge stick he has stuck up his ass. There must be some interior motive to it. Maybe... if it’s specifically a heroics museum, then perhaps the man justified it to himself as a part of their training? But it still doesn’t make sense, Endeavor’s idea of ‘training’ specifically excludes the very concept of fun. Maybe...

Just then, his increasingly suspicious musings get interrupted by a vibration of his phone, signifying an incoming message. He glances down to see a response from Keigo to his earlier text – ok see u there followed by a salute emoji. A fond smile blooms on his face against his will, this time only slightly tainted with wistfulness.  

Alas, it is almost immediately replaced by a grimace as he realises the issue.

“Uhm, mum?” He fidgets slightly, putting his phone away. “How long do you think we’re going to be there?”

“I don’t know, love, as long as we need I guess.” She shrugs. “Why?”

“I’m supposed to meet with Kei later.”   

For once, he doesn’t say it with an intention to piss his father off – the nickname simply slips out before he can stop it. But the thing is, intent never really matters when it comes to making Endeavor angry – that’s exactly why he stopped trying to censor himself, after all. And now, his father is sneering with disgust, somehow more affected by that than any of the callous things Dabi has said before. He puts his mug down hard, a few sploshed droplets of coffee staining the table. The authoritative thud commands instant silence, turning the previously light atmosphere into something ugly.

Instinctively, Dabi braces himself for the inevitable outburst. But, again, it doesn’t come. At first, it seems like it’s going to – the man opens his mouth, the no doubt scathing words already on the tip of his tongue – but he stops himself at the last moment, closing it shut and only letting out a contemptuous tsk. It’s obvious he wants to say something, that he’s itching with it, crawling with the desire to tear into Dabi and list every single thing he thinks is wrong with him – that he’s a disgusting gay sinner, who will go to Super Hell and be replaced at his boyfriend’s side by a car, that he will never be happy if he doesn’t let go of his deviant ways, that he is broken beyond repair and nothing but a disappointment. Dabi sees all of that and more in the man’s hateful eyes – he hears the echo of the same words being thrown at him before, feels the heat of his father’s ire closing around his throat. He doesn’t need Endeavor to say anything to get the message loud and clear. But it’s still jarring that the man doesn’t. After all, him and Endeavor have one thing in common – they both love the sound of their own voice.

Don’t get him wrong – it’s not like he wants his father to be a homophobic asshole. If he thought this was real, if he was able to believe the man’s lies for even one second, he might have been able to offer him the benefit of a doubt. To assume he was biting his tongue not because he was trying to pass as a ‘good father’ in this weird mind game he’s playing with them but because he genuinely realized what he was going to say was harmful and didn’t want to hurt Dabi’s feelings. Except the thought alone is laughable. Endeavor doesn’t give a fuck about anyone’s feelings. He’s more than happy to stew in his ingrained bigoted thinking, without sparing a single thought to who it might hurt, and it’s absolutely infuriating that despite all of that he somehow still expects them to buy into his redemption act.   

Which Dabi can’t do. He would love to, honestly, if only for his family’s sake, but the whole thing is so disgustingly fake he would have to be an idiot to take it seriously. Endeavor isn’t the kind of person who could recognize their mistakes, let alone admit to them, and certainly not the kind to try and fix them.

(Perhaps knowing that this suspicious change of heart happened in his old timeline as well should make it more believable, but in reality, the fact that this asshole managed to pull the same shit twice only makes Dabi so much angrier.)

“I’m sure it won’t take us that long,” Rei assures him, her voice carefully light. She doesn’t look at Endeavor when she speaks, but the stiffness of her shoulders betrays just how painfully aware of his presence she is. “And I suppose you can always leave earlier if it comes to that.”

He nods, turning back to his half-finished cereal. He supposes he can’t ask for more. Keigo will understand anyway – hell, he will probably be happy for him. And it’s not like they don’t see each other almost every day.  

“Hey, Yumi, have you heard about the little league they want to open at that old gym?” Natsuo asks, his cheerfulness only slightly forced, probably hoping that a change of subject will help get them back to the almost nice atmosphere from before.

It does seem to work, for the most part, with their father huffing to himself and focusing on cleaning the coffee stains from the tablecloth that his little outburst caused and Dabi busy typing a short message to Keigo to let him know the possible change of plans. His siblings talk about sports for a while, which, yuck, trying to decide if they should try out for the team, despite Natsuo already being on a soccer team at his school. Dabi tries not to be offended that they don’t even bother asking him too.   

The rest of the meal passes in relative peace, what with Dabi and Endeavor staying mostly silent. They eat quickly, especially his siblings, too thrilled about the prospect of finally going somewhere fun to care much about proper nutrition. Dabi occupies his time brooding about what is no doubt going to be the most obnoxious museum experience of all time, but then he imagines all the ways he can torture dear Enji during a hero event and his mood immediately brightens.

All in all, it’s one of the most pleasant family meals they’ve had in, well, ever, even with the few bumps in the road curtesy of Endeavor’s shitty opinions. The tension is still there – he doubts it’s going away anytime soon – but it is nowhere near as bad as it used to. They’re allowed to banter and laugh, they’ve been promised an exciting (for everyone but Dabi) family outing, and, most importantly, none of their comments are met with yelling, violent threats, flying fists or all of the above. His mother is actually smiling a smile that’s not entirely fake, nothing is on fire, and even little Shouto’s expression is somewhat less dead inside that normally.

Which is exactly why he should have known it wouldn’t last.

“I have something to tell you,” Endeavor announces grandly after they’re all finished and about to get up. His face is mostly blank, with only a slight hint of displeasure, but it’s enough to put them on edge.

They pause in their movements, exchanging cautious looks. Rei frowns, meaning she doesn’t know what this is about. Shouto stops trying to fit a crayon inside his All Might plushie’s ear in order to look up curiously, while Fuyumi bites her lip. Natsuo glances at Dabi questioningly, but he doesn’t know either, so he just shrugs.

“Have you been diagnosed with some deadly illness?” Dabi guesses, not even trying to keep the hope out of his voice, and then yelps when Fuyumi smacks his arm. “What?”

“Not funny,” she mutters.

“Not joking.” He shrugs again.

“Unfortunately for you, my son, I am not dying,” Endeavor says wryly.

Dabi pouts. “Pity.”

Before anyone can reprimand Dabi again, the man continues, “The summer hero charity gala is approaching and I have, naturally, received an invitation. You, as my family, are invited as well. I know I have not taken an interest in bringing you along to these events before, but I wish to rectify that and it is an excellent opportunity.”

To nobody’s surprise, the man’s declaration is met with stunned silence. 

Because, seriously? The hero charity gala? After all these years, now they’re suddenly invited? They have never been allowed to attend any public events with their father before – officially because the Number Two ‘likes to keep his family life private’, unofficially because it wouldn’t do if someone noticed the burns on their bodies are in the wrong places to be training accidents. Does Endeavor think he can make up for being the worst asshole ever by finally bringing them with him to some stuck-up party? If so, he’s even dumber than Dabi gave him credit for.  

“No way,” he scoffs, both because he likes to deny his father things and because he genuinely hates those fancy hero parties. Mostly because he’s never been to one. See, Hawks used to go to them, like, at least once a month and usually had to bring a date for appearances sake. However, since Dabi used to be, you know, a wanted criminal, he couldn’t exactly fulfil the role, so his boyfriend had to go with someone else, which was honestly outrageous and gave him severe trauma. Sure, in most cases this someone else was Miruko, self-proclaimed raging lesbian and also his sister’s loving fiancé, but still. It wasn’t Dabi.

“A hero gala?” Rei asks, ignoring him, seemingly just as shocked – if not more – as the rest of them. “Are you sure? I thought you didn’t want the public to know about your personal life. Especially about the children.”

“I changed my mind,” says Endeavor, a man known for never changing his mind on anything ever. “I don’t wish to keep you a secret anymore. Besides, Touya is on his way to becoming a hero. It’s unavoidable that he will soon be in the public eye, whether we want that or nor. And this would be a good opportunity for him to make important connections with others in his field as well.”

Dabi glowers at his father with all the heat he can muster. “Are you deaf? I told you I’m not going.”

Endeavor frowns, but, once more defying expectations, doesn’t blow up at him. Instead, he gets an infuriatingly haughty expression on his face that Dabi would very much like to punch out of him. “Don’t be irrational, Touya. This is not the time for your petty rebelliousness. Socializing is a vital part of any hero’s career and an event like this is invaluable in this aspect. Your peers can only dream of having your advantages. You would be a fool to miss out on this opportunity just because you want to be difficult.”

Dabi raises an eyebrow, smirking mockingly. “Are you promoting nepotism now? That’s not very heroic of you.”

“Dad isn’t wrong, you know,” Fuyumi chimes in before Endeavor can respond, her eyebrows slightly creased. “This would be a great chance for you to make some important connections.”

He shoots his sister a thoroughly betrayed look. She has to know he doesn’t give a flying fuck about any connections, so what the hell is she doing? And now Endeavor is looking so pleased – or, well, he isn’t looking as displeased as a moment before, which is basically the same thing – and that’s the last thing Dabi wants.

But then he catches Fuyumi’s eyes and realizes something very obvious that he’s stupidly been missing.

His family wants to go to that party.            

“Come on, Touya, you will get free food,” Natsuo adds pleadingly, assaulting him with what he assumes are supposed to be puppy eyes.

Shouto, being a man of action, doesn’t bother trying to convince him verbally and instead grabs a fork from the table and aims it at him threateningly.

“Make it free booze and you might just convince me,” he snorts in response, leaning back lazily and tilting his head as though deep in thought.

He almost means it too. He really doesn’t want to go, but he will if it’s so important for his family. Which seems to be a theme for today, funnily enough. Still, he’s reluctant to give in so easily. He’s having fun denying his father. It makes him feel powerful – after all, Endeavor very clearly wants him to come and all Dabi has to do to ruin it for him is say no. 

“Absolutely not. No alcohol until you’re twenty,” Endeavor barks, and really, Dabi was going to concede, he really was, but how can he when the man is so maddeningly arrogant to think he can tell him what to do after everything he’s done?   

And so, despite the threat of being stabbed with a fork by a six-year-old, he sends his father his ugliest smile and tuts, “Then there’s no reason for me to go to some stuck-up party, is there?”

His siblings collectively sigh in disappointment and sag in their seats to duly watch the fight that is soon to break out. Dabi refuses to feel guilty, but guilt doesn’t bother asking for his consent before settling in his stomach. Rei opens her mouth to say something, probably try to mediate as always, but she’s cut off by her husband before any words leave her mouth.

“I already gave you a very legitimate reason.”

“And I already told you I don’t give a fuck.”

Endeavor scowls, narrowing his eyes. His face is getting redder with every second he doesn’t get his way and it would be entertaining if his hands clenched around the edge of the table weren’t slowly beginning to produce smoke. Rei especially is eyeing her husband warily, but everyone else stiffens as well. It’s barely noticeable but Shouto’s fork is now aimed just slightly  more towards Endeavor than Dabi.

And yet, somehow, the man still doesn’t explode. Miraculously, he manages to tame his rising fury, clenching his fists and shoving them under the table. He takes a deep breath, painfully loud in the frozen silence, and when he speaks again, he actually sounds calm. Suspiciously calm.

“I got you tickets to this museum, tickets that will not be available for general public for at least another week.” The man raises his chin, staring down at Dabi condescendingly. “The least you could do to thank me for it is attend this gala.”

“I didn’t ask you to get these tickets, did I?” Dabi counters, crossing his arms over his chest, and his own mind is yelling at him to stop, to shut up, to just let it go because otherwise his family might get hurt, but he doesn’t, because it’s not fair. And life isn’t fair, sure, but a child should be able to refuse their parents without fear of pain, and Dabi didn’t get rid of Touya to now let himself be pushed back into the victim mindset.

And if Endeavor actually snaps, he will take the brunt of it himself, jump in front of his family if he has to, but at least he will have proof that this change is fake and they will finally be able to leave.  

Meanwhile, Endeavor leans closer to him over the table, his face calculatingly cold, and says lowly, “Then I’m sure it will be no problem if I give them back?”

Natsu gasps, a protest already on his lips, but then he shuts up under their father’s glare. The usual blankness of Shouto’s face is gone, replaced by disappointment, and the hand in which he’s holding the fork trembles a tad before falling to his side in defeat. Fuyumi purses her lips, visibly enraged, although it’s not obvious who her anger is directed at. She doesn’t say anything, but she shoots Dabi a very pointed look – demanding for him not to screw this up for them.

His mother, on the other hand, is clearly conflicted. She’s unwilling to force him if he really doesn’t want to go, but she’s also frustrated with him for ruining the nice atmosphere and, possibly, jeopardizing the trip they’ve all been so excited for. But most of all she seems to be furious at Endeavor, for the blatant attempt at blackmail and also for being a piece of shit in general.

Dabi, on the other hand, isn’t conflicted any more. He’s just mad. So mad he can feel the taste of ash in his throat.

“Is that your idea of being a better person then?” he taunts, sneering and glaring at his father with renewed hatred. “Blackmailing me to attend your stupid party?”

In some twisted way, this is exactly what he needed – the reminder that, no matter how nice  Endeavor might be acting at times, he’s still a filthy monster inside. He hopes his family isn’t too blinded by their disappointment and resentment towards him to miss it. He hopes they see that any promises Endeavor might make are as empty as his rotten heart.

“I thought about what you told me last week after that incident,” Endeavor says, about nothing. Both Rei and Natsu wince slightly at the mention of what was dubbed the incident. “You said you wouldn’t have to sneak out on your own and put yourself in danger if we were leaving the house together more often. I realized that you were right. That is why I got the tickets for us to go out as a family.” The man’s face hardens. “But I will not tolerate ungratefulness. You asked something of me and I delivered. Yet when I ask something of you, something as simple as attending a party, you refuse without a moment of thought. I am not blackmailing you, Touya. I am simply deciding that your immature behaviour means you do not deserve this trip.”

How dare he. How. Dare. He. Dabi isn’t sure if he wants to laugh or to grab his own fork and plunge it into his father’s eye.

Probably both.

“Let’s pretend for a moment what you said wasn’t a bunch of self-righteous bullshit,” Dabi starts, clenching his fists under the table to stop them from shaking – or accidentally setting the tablecloth on fire. “If it’s not blackmail, then why are you punishing all of us and not just me? Could it be that it’s because you know I don’t care about this trip of yours and so the only way to force me to do what you want is to threaten to hurt the rest of our family?”

“It is a valuable life lesson,” Endeavor dismisses him easily. “It is time you learn that the consequences of your actions can often harm others as well.”

The sheer audacity of those words is almost enough to render Dabi speechless. He can see his mother shaking her head at him slightly, as though to say ‘it’s not worth it, just let it go’, but Dabi can’t let it go, because he’s so fucking done with being treated like shit by this asshole, he’s not going to just lie down and take it, his blood is boiling like a fucking kettle but this time it’s finally aimed at the right person. He’s—

“Of course,” Endeavor says smugly, cutting into his internal screaming session, “I am not unreasonable. If you apologise now and agree to come to the gala, we can still have an entertaining family day out at the museum. The choice is yours.”

The decision is obvious – he should spit in his useless sperm donor’s face, storm out of the house and spend the day with Keigo like he was planning from the beginning, museum be damned. The very idea of how self-satisfied his father is going to be if he backs down now is making his skin crawl. He would rather die than accept such humiliation.

But, unfortunately, nothing is as easy as it used to be anymore. Gone are the days he could deal with his issues by setting them on fire – mostly. Because he looks at his siblings, at his mother, and he knows they really want to go on this trip. And he can’t force himself to take it away from them, especially when they all look so scared.       

“Fine,” he spits, his face twisting into a grimace. “Fine. I will go to your damn party. Because, unlike you, I actually care about my family and won’t be the reason for them getting hurt.” He was going to stop at this point, he really was. He was going to let it go. But then Endeavor’s expression shifts and a smug smirk blooms on his face, and the sight is so infuriating Dabi sees red. So, foolishly, he adds, “But since it’s a fancy party, you will buy me whatever I want to wear – and I mean whatever, including a dress. Also, Kei goes as my plus one. I’m not going through this hell on my own.”

There’s a smell of burning wood and, for a moment, Dabi fears they might actually be buying a new table soon, but then Endeavor stands up abruptly, clenching his fists at his sides to extinguish any wayward fire. His eyes are dark and thundering, and the venom in his voice is so prevalent it’s a miracle it doesn’t spill out of his mouth.

“You will not go anywhere with this boy. And you will definitely not be wearing a dress. Forget about it. The last thing I need is you flaunting your degeneracy in front of the whole Japan. And do not talk to me like this. You don’t make the rules here – you are a child. I am your father and if I say you’re going to a party, you’re going to a party. End of discussion.”

“Yeah, I thought so,” Dabi scoffs, his expression twisting into one of deep disgust as he stands up as well. “Fuck you. I’m not going anywhere and you can’t force me.” He pauses and lets his mouth stretch into an ugly grin. “Or can you? Come on, old man, beat me up, make me behave, put me in my place. Like good old times. What are you waiting for? Come on. Show us how much you really changed.”

If the dining room was quiet before, now it’s deadly silent. The air is so thick it could probably be cut with a knife (or a well-aimed fork). Fuyumi’s face is white as a sheet, her eyes wide and suspiciously wet. Natsuo is shaking, blinking furiously to chase away his own tears. Shouto is gripping his All Might plushie tight enough that it rips just a bit in one place, but he doesn’t seem to have noticed. Rei is so stiff she might as well be a statue. Her eyes never leave Endeavor’s hands, fully aware how much damage they can cause if used against them. They’re all staring at Dabi with fear and worry, and then at Endeavor with uncertainty and apprehension. They don’t believe him either, Dabi realizes, not that much at least. They want his proclaimed change of heart to be true, sure, but they still can’t trust him. They all fully expect him to snap – to do exactly what Dabi goaded him to do.

But, yet again, Endeavor doesn’t.

At first, he scowls, baring his teeth like some wild animal, his nostrils flaring as he exhales violently. His eyes bear into Dabi with scalding rage, with a concerning glint of craziness in them. His fists are clasped tight enough for his knuckles to turn white and the man is clearly barely holding back from throwing himself at him. But Dabi stands his ground, meeting his father’s gaze unflinchingly, daring him to try.

Endeavor takes a step forward and Dabi braces himself for whatever’s coming. But then Natsuo lets out a whimper. And suddenly, the man freezes. He blinks, his face twisting into something unreadable, his stare turning towards the rest of his family, cowering before him.  He stares at them for a long second with wide eyes and then, just like that, slowly, he deflates with a sigh. His expression isn’t happy, not in the slightest. Actually, he seems almost disgusted with himself for giving up so easily, but there is a flash of guilt in his eyes, and that’s why Dabi nearly expects it when the man grits out, “Fine. Bring the boy if you must.”

Ah, victory. How delicious is your taste.

Paying no mind to the rest of his family, now completely stunned, Dabi cocks an eyebrow. “And the dress?”

Endeavor grits his teeth, biting back the automatic response. Dabi waits patiently. He knows he’s won this round. He risked a lot, but the gain is oh so sweet.

The man swallows loudly, then sneers. “You can have the dress.”

“Sweet.” Dabi grins, gleefully observing the little vein on his father’s neck that is clearly about to explode. “I’m gonna go get ready then, and we can leave for the museum in an hour or so. Don’t be late, we don’t want it to get too crowded.”

Ready for his dramatic departure, he brushes a few stray crumbs from his shorts, offers the likeable part of his family a wink and directs his steps towards the stairs, fearlessly showing his back to his father to further drive home his triumph. However, just as he’s about to leave the room, he turns around to send one last smirk at the quietly fuming man.

“Oh, yeah, and bring your credit card – I’m craving ice cream.”

***

The museum is fucking huge and it’s filled to the brim with people. So much for ‘not available for general public’. Who would have thought heroes have so many friends? Or maybe richer people were able to get access earlier too? Whatever the case, they can barely find enough space for all of them to stand together comfortably while they figure out where to go first, needing to squeeze into a corner next to a long line of trashy food stalls. Dabi is already more than a little annoyed.

It’s mostly kids – noisy, sticky, smelly kids. And a bunch of parents, with lifeless expressions on their faces suggesting at least two thirds of them are in a dire need of some well-deserved nap. Or a therapist.

One of the brats, a girl roughly Shouto’s age, bumps into Dabi’s legs, almost making him trip. She looks up at him, grins her toothless smile and runs away without even apologizing. 

Natsuo, who’s standing right behind him, chuckles at his fate.

Dabi sighs.

Is this really what he gave up villainy for?

“Can we go see Gang Orca first?” Natsuo makes pleading eyes at their mother, while Shouto, who’s holding Dabi’s hand with one hand and squeezing his All Might plushie with the other, turns around from gawking at one of many poor-quality All Might cosplayers, and nods to support the request.

Rei seems somewhat pained when she hears that, but smiles at them with affection nonetheless. “Of course we can, sweetie. Enji, do you know if we can get a map somewhere? This place is massive – I fear we might get lost quickly.”

“I will get one,” the man grunts and wanders away towards someone dressed in a ridiculous over-the-top blue and yellow outfit, indicating them as an employee. 

Seeing Endeavor so docile is… weird. The man is towering over almost everyone here, intimidating even out of his hero outfit, with his usual scowl decorating his face, but somehow, he doesn’t feel as dangerous as he used to. His posture is hunched, there’s no threat in his voice – he doesn’t even argue before doing what’s asked of him. He hasn’t said more than a few words ever since they left the house, no matter what stupid childish banter Dabi and his siblings engaged themselves in. It’s as though he’s given up.

But, well, Dabi isn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. What’s this popular saying again? If you don’t have anything nice to say, just keep quiet? If that’s what Endeavor is doing, good for him. Dabi will happily never hear him open his mouth again.

“Do you think they would have a Midnight exhibition too?” Fuyumi bites her lip nervously, her cheeks turning slightly pink. “She’s fairly new so…”

“I don’t know, honey, but I’m sure we can find out,” Rei says, although there’s a slight crease to her eyebrows. “Though I didn’t know you’d be interested. She doesn’t seem… your type.”

Dabi snickers quietly. “Yeah, Yumi, she doesn’t seem your type.”

“Shut up,” she snaps at him, blushing even harder, and then turning towards their mother again. “She’s not, it’s just, there isn’t a lot of female heroes out there, so…”

“Yes, I see what you mean.” Rei nods her head and sighs, looking a little frustrated. Then she sends them a smile. “Of course we’re going to see her if you want.” 

Fuyumi grins and even Dabi’s mouth curls into a small smile. His sister is, unfortunately, right about female heroes. Even in the future there isn’t that many of them, especially not high in the rankings, with Miruko, Ryukyu and Mt. Lady being the few notable exceptions. However, none of them are actually pro heroes yet. He’s pretty sure Wild, Wild Pussycats are already active though, so that’s something, right?  

“I hope we can see Edgeshot,” murmurs Shouto, tilting his head in contemplation. “I want him to teach me to shoot a gun.”

“Your hands are too small to hold a gun,” Dabi points out helpfully. “Better start with a knife.”

“Touya, I swear to god...” Rei sighs heavily.

“Hey, is that All Might?!” Natsu gasps, pointing a finger somewhere to their left. Instinctively, they all turn around just in time to see the large figure of a too familiar hero marching straight into the awaiting crowd.

In less than a second, other visitors notice the man’s appearance as well and all too soon, there’s even more screaming and shrieking around them than before, people acting as though they’re seeing some kind of a god and not a debatably handsome middle-aged man in spandex. Kids jump at him, cosplayers beg to have their costumes signed, a few people declare their love for him, and he’s pretty sure at least two guys actually faint. It’s pathetic. Dabi scoffs, staring at the horde of naïve, foolish idiots with disdain.

Absolutely no taste.

“I got us a map.” Endeavor suddenly appears behind them, proudly holding up a piece of paper, but immediately frowns at the commotion. “What’s going on?”

“The main attraction arrived,” Dabi responds, unable to keep the derision out of his tone.

Endeavor glances up curiously, just in time to lock eyes with his self-proclaimed nemesis, and he grimaces, quickly turning away. “Oh, it’s him. Had to come and show off, did he? Well, let’s go. The Gang Orca exhibition is somewhere behind that door.” 

Curious against himself, Dabi lets go of Shouto’s hand for a moment and walks over to his father to get a better look at the map. It’s pretty impressive, he has to admit. Four floors full of attractions – he chooses to ignore the fact that one of the floors seems to be almost entirely dedicated to All Might – with every exhibition listed on the side and explained. It might even be a bit overwhelming, especially since so many of the hero names mentioned are completely foreign to him. It makes him wonder whether they simply fell into obscurity over the coming years or if it’s more the case of pro heroes’ lifespan not generally averaging very high.

“Oh, look, there’s even one for you!” he points to admittedly quite a large area marked as ‘Endeavor’ on the second floor. Compared to All Might’s though, it might just as well be a storage under the stairs. “Pretty small, isn’t it? Do you think it’s because no one likes you?”

Somewhere on his side, Fuyumi lets out a resigned sigh. Endeavor’s forehead vein twitches deliciously, but the man pretends not to have heard him. Dabi smirks to himself anyway.

The trip is certainly shaping up to be quite interesting.

***

In no time at all they find themselves walking through various exhibition rooms, full of colourful pictures, various pieces of hero-themed merch and other characteristic items from each hero. Harried tour guides are seen attempting to wrangle crowds of unruly kids into listening to their lectures on a particular hero’s history, but most of the visitors appear more occupied with the more or less recognizable wax statues of said heroes, especially the ones accompanied by their alive counterparts. They pass a few that Dabi vaguely recognizes, but a vast majority remains a complete unknown – although the number of adolescent (and not so) fans gathering around them indicate that they’re at least somewhat popular.

Either their father is too stupid to read the map properly or something must have changed, because the Gang Orca place is not where they expect it to be. Instead, they are greeted by a large conference room, with a long table at the front, with hundreds of people mulling around in anticipation. The poster next to the door informs them that the first big panel of the day is about to begin. The topic, ironically, is ‘Ethical Issues In Heroics And How To Deal With Them’. Wisely, Endeavor ushers them away before Dabi can demand they go inside.

After much more wandering, they arrive at the part of the museum dedicated to less known rookie heroes, where the exhibitions are much smaller and tighter squeezed together. Considering how many heroes there are in Japan alone, it’s understandable that they wouldn’t be able to show off every single one, but it still leaves a bitter taste in Dabi’s mouth.

The disappointment is further driven home when they are told by a very polite but very stern employee that the Midnight display is age restricted and only available for those over eighteen.

“That’s bullshit,” Dabi says bluntly, sending the guy a heated glare. Personally, he doesn’t really care, but he saw the dejected look on Fuyumi’s face, so he can’t just let it go. “We literally see her on TV every day. How is that any different?”

The employee’s face is pained, but he hides it under a tight smile. “I’m sorry, but those are the rules. I can’t let you in unless you are over eighteen.”

Dabi’s glare only intensifies. “Fuck your rules.”

“Touya, it’s okay,” Fuyumi intervenes, putting a hand on his shoulder. She attempts to smile at him reassuringly, but it turns out more like a grimace. “There’s a lot of different things to see. It’s fine.”

“Don’t lie, it’s not fine,” he says, frowning. “I know you really wanted to see this one. I won’t let some dumb rules ruin it for you.”

“It’s not that important. I’m sure there are other female heroes I can see.”

“Sure, but—”

“Excuse me,” they’re interrupted by Endeavor, who clears his throat and walks over to the increasingly annoyed employee. The guy’s eyes widen when he takes a good look at the man, only now realizing who exactly it is standing in front of him. Dabi’s not sure if the guy is awed by their father’s looming presence or completely terrified. “I understand that you are trying to protect the children, but I think my son has a point,” the man continues, shooting Dabi a disapproving look, “even though he could have delivered it more politely. As controversial as she may be, Midnight is a public figure and is seen by everyone on a regular basis. I don’t see why her exhibition should be age restricted.”

For a moment, all Dabi can do is gawk. Is... is their father backing them up? Arguing for them? Has hell frozen over? He resist the urge to pinch himself. He knows for sure he’s not dreaming anyway – those of his dreams that feature Endeavor are never this nice. There’s not enough fire, not enough screaming and definitely not enough pain. But it’s still fucking baffling.

Fuyumi’s reaction is similar, only she hides it better. She also seems... moved by the gesture. Which is understandable, but makes Dabi grimace anyway. He knows it’s a big important moment for her, but he just can’t see it the same way. She shouldn’t be so shocked by her own father wanting to do something nice for her. It shouldn’t be a big deal.   

“Well, it’s—I told you, it’s—” the employee stutters, gulping visibly. “I’m really sorry, Mr. Endeavor, but those are the rules. I—I can’t just disregard them.”

Endeavor remains unmoved, staring down the poor guy with his usual scowl. “I’m sure you can make an exception. As their father, I can attest that at least my oldest son and daughter are old enough to view this exhibition. I am giving my parental permission for you to let them in. Shouldn’t that be enough?”

“This isn’t how this works,” the guy repeats, his voice more and more strained. Desperate for any help, he sends a pleading look at Rei, who so far has been silent, preoccupied with keeping Shouto and Natsuo from touching any of the exhibits. She pretends not to notice. “I’m not making these rules. I just have to follow them. I’m really sorry that it inconveniences you, but—”

“So what you are saying is that if you let us in, you can get in trouble,” Endeavor interrupts the guy, rather rudely. But he doesn’t seem angry about the refusal. In fact, he appears almost contemplative.

The employee nods, looking relieved to finally be understood. He clearly never met Endeavor before. “Exactly.”

Their father nods as well. “You should have just said that from the beginning. I know the man who owns this museum.” Of course he does. Why is Dabi even surprised? “Give me your name and I will make sure you won’t face any consequences for bending the rules for us.”

The employee opens his mouth, most likely to argue further, but in the end, he must have decided they don’t pay him enough to deal with this and so he sighs in defeat, tells Endeavor his name and opens the door leading to the exhibition. Their father nods, obviously not actually intending to remember it let alone make sure it gets to this mystery museum owner, and quickly goes in, but Dabi catches Rei writing it down on her phone, so he doesn’t feel that bad for the guy as he follows Endeavor inside.

He doesn’t get very far though.

“Good lord, what is this?!” Endeavor shouts, audibly horrified. “Rei, do not bring Shouto in here! This is supposed to be a museum for children! How is this even allowed?!”

Dabi glances at the employee and meets his resigned stare.

The guy shrugs. “I warned you.”

Dabi sighs.

They end up not visiting the Midnight exhibition after all.

***

They sort of wander around for a while, until Shouto spots a pretty impressive Fat Gum cosplayer and insists on them following him into one of the large aulas, where they are immediately ushered to the few remaining empty seats by a bunch of exhausted employers and sort of forced to watch an entire cosplay competition. Which, even Dabi must admit, ends up being kind of fun. Sure, there are way too many All Mights, and a lot of the costumes seem half-assed at best, but the ones that are good are, like, really good. They get so into it that they actually stand up to clap and cheer when a particularly impressive Wash cosplayer is announced as the winner. Although, Dabi’s favourite is a certain teenage girl who, instead of making a real costume, simply printed out a carbon cut-out of Gang Orca and held it in front of herself the whole time. He makes sure to take a picture of her as she receives a consolation prize for creativity, because something like this demands to be commemorated.

(And if he’s especially overjoyed by the glaring lack of Endeavor cosplayers, well, nobody can prove it.)

(Nobody needs to. He will gladly admit it, if anyone asks.)

One of the longer stops they make after that is a Best Jeanist exhibition. The man isn’t as high in the rankings yet as he’s going to be in ten years, but he’s still fairly popular, so the room is quite crowded when they arrive. The reason for that becomes pretty clear pretty soon – in the middle of the exhibition, surrounded by fans, there stand two nearly identical figures wearing Best Jeanist’s face. The exciting part about it is that only one of those figures is made of wax.

It’s a little weird, Dabi has to admit, standing before the guy he ordered Hawks to kill not so long ago. He’s not stupid enough to believe his birdie actually did it, of course, although he did lie pretty convincingly when asked. Still, if Hawks wasn’t secretly a double agent, Dabi would more or less be responsible for murdering this guy, which. Talk about awkward.

Seeing as the line for a meet-and-greet with the hero is already quite packed, only Rei, Endeavor and Shouto go on to secure a place for them, while Dabi, Fuyumi and Natsuo decide to wait for their turn in a secluded corner of the room.

“I really don’t get why he’s so popular,” Fuyumi whispers to him with a grimace.

Dabi raises an eyebrow. “What, you don’t like him?”

His sister scoffs. “What is there to like? He looks ridiculous and he’s not nearly as charismatic as he thinks he is.”

All Dabi can do is nod, faking a shiver. “And that hair.”

“Ugh, the hair.”

They both chuckle, united in their shared hatred of awful fashion.

“His quirk is cool though,” Natsuo argues, watching in fascination as Best Jeanist completely obliterates someone’s jean jacket to show off how his quirk works.

“His quirk is lame,” Dabi deadpans, thoroughly unimpressed. “It’s just some fucking jeans. Bet my fire could burn right through it. What if I was a villain? His powers would be useless.”

“You wouldn’t be a villain though,” Natsuo points out, and it’s hilarious how someone can sound so confident while being so wrong.

Dabi rolls his eyes. “Yeah, but I could be. Or someone else could be. We’re not the only people with fire quirks, you know?”

“I’m sure it’s fireproof at least,” Fuyumi says, but given her tone, she’s not that convinced herself. “I mean, it would be stupid if it wasn’t.”

“Nothing is truly fireproof,” Dabi counters with a smirk, discreetly letting some of his blue fire flicker through his fingers. “Not if the fire is hot enough.”

Fuyumi smacks his arm with a frown, making him yelp in surprise.

“What’s that for?!”

“Are you stupid?!” she whisper-hisses, glancing around frantically. “You can’t just use your quirk like that, it’s illegal! What if a hero saw?!”

Dabi blinks. Right. Things are illegal. He shouldn’t be doing things that are illegal. Even if they’re fun. It’s so hard to remember.

He is not given a lot of time to mope about it though, because in just few more minutes, their family finally reaches the front of the line and so the three of them go to join them. He makes sure to stay a bit behind, however, since he’s still kinda unsure about this whole ‘meeting the guy you almost got murdered’ thing. It’s not that he feels guilty or ashamed about his actions in his original timeline – he’s had his reasons and he doesn’t regret any of it. But it’s still weird. Sort of like seeing a ghost – only the ghost has apparently been stuck in his Justin Bieber phase way longer than he reasonably should and has an unhealthy obsession with denim.

The man doesn’t seem threatening per se, but his eyes are oddly serious for a casual meet-and-greet with fans, and because of his ridiculous hero outfit it’s impossible to say whether he’s smiling or not. He is definitely not smiling when it’s finally their turn and his gaze lands on Endeavor.

“Endeavor. What a surprise. I wasn’t expecting to see you here today.”

“Family outing,” their father grunts and does not bother to elaborate, even as Best Jeanist’s eyebrows rise curiously.

“I see. Well, it’s nice to meet you.” He offers them a semi-friendly nod.

“Nice to meet you too!” Natsuo responds with a toothy grin and, ignoring Endeavor’s displeased frown, hastily pulls out a small notebook from his backpack. “Could I get your autograph, please? My friend is a big fan, I bet he’s going to lose it if I can get one for him.”

“Of course,” Best Jeanist says as he accepts the notebook, already having a marker ready in his other hand. “What’s your friend’s name?”

“Benjiro.” The hero nods, quickly draws a few well-trained lines on the paper, and hands it back to Natsuo, who shoots him another bright smile. “Thanks! I can’t wait to see his face when I give it to him. He’s going to be making my homework for a week at least.”

“Excuse me?” Both Endeavor and Rei speak at the same time, both wearing eerily similar expressions of disapproval. Somehow, though, their mother’s condemnation seems much more intimidating.

A flash of panic crosses Natsuo’s face and, as is their duty as his siblings, Dabi and Fuyumi snicker at his misfortune.

“For legal reasons, this was a joke.”

Rei clearly has more to say about that, but Best Jeanist subtly gestures at the huge queue behind them with his head and so, Natsuo is momentarily saved. “We will talk about it later.”

“Oooh, you’re in trouble,” Dabi mouths at his brother and laughs when the boy covertly shows him a middle finger.   

“So,” Best Jeanist says, obviously impatient to move on, “are any of you planning to become heroes like your father?“

“I think I want to be a hero. But not like father,” Shouto explains in a very solemn voice. Endeavor twitches in annoyance, but doesn’t say anything. Best Jeanist nods slowly, most likely assuming Shouto wants to be an underground hero instead of a flashy one or something normal like that. “And my big brother is already in a hero course.”

Best Jeanist raises an eyebrow as he looks over both Dabi and Natsuo, but since the latter is definitely too young (for any sane person that isn’t Endeavor, of course), he focuses on the former.

“Really?” The hero tilts his head curiously. “Which school, if I may ask?”

Vaguely recalling what the man’s alma mater is and, consequently, what answer he’s probably hoping for, Dabi is quick to shoot him down, “Not U.A.”

“He’s in Shiketsu,” Rei rushes to cover for his rudeness, even though the man doesn’t seem all that insulted.

“Well, Shiketsu is just as good as U.A.,” Best Jeanist assures him, although there’s no way to know if he’s telling the truth or just being nice. “I even got a friend… Ah, nevermind. In any case, good luck. I hope you become a great hero.”

Yeah, about that… It’s probably not happening. Not if he can’t teach himself the entirety of math in less than a week, anyway. He might get a nice career as a vigilante though. But it’s not like he can tell the man that.

“And I hope you don’t get murdered by villains anytime soon,” Dabi replies cheerily, before he can stop himself. Endeavor chokes on air somewhere in the background. Shouto chuckles.

Best Jeanist’s eyebrows rise even higher, but he seems more amused than insulted. “I will try.”

“Is your hero suit fireproof?” Fuyumi asks then and Best Jeanist easily turns his attention to her. Thank god. A minute more and he would start warning the guy about trusting people with red wings or something.

This stupid universe is making him soft.

***

Eventually, they find themselves stumbling upon the All Might part, because it’s impossible not to when half of the fucking museum is dedicated to him alone. They hesitate before entering, sending each other uncertain looks. If anything was going to set Endeavor off, they have no doubt it would be seeing his self-proclaimed worse enemy’s face plastered all over the walls while his own is nowhere to be seen. But their father doesn’t say anything, the only indication of his displeasure being a sour turn of his mouth, and so they take that as permission and follow the small crowd in.

Dabi thinks about protesting. Not because he’s worried about Endeavor’s reaction – if anything, causing his father discomfort is one of the few reasons for going inside, in his humble opinion – but mostly because he really doesn’t like All Might. He can acknowledge the good the hero has done in the course of his career, sure, but he just doesn’t think it deserves this much praise when saving people is literally the man’s job. He’s pretty sure seeing what is essentially a fanatical shrine dedicated to him is going to make him want to vomit. Or set something on fire.

Ultimately, he doesn’t, because he knows his siblings – Shouto in particular – do admire All Might and are excited to visit his exhibition, but also because he doesn’t think anyone would actually listen to his protests. Instead, he lets out a resigned sigh and follows his family inside, mentally preparing to be assaulted by the dreadful blue and yellow colour scheme that the Number One Hero seems to love so much.

The first room that welcomes them is pretty tame, all things considered. It is outrageously bright and colourful, and tacky, but that’s to be expected from a place targeted mainly at hero-worshipping brats. The main exhibition consists of a magnitude of signature items and memorabilia locked inside numerous glass-cases scattered throughout the room. The objects’ significance differs from case to case, some being the awards given to All Might over the years, some being parts of his many costumes, letters written by, to and about him, pieces of merchandise, weapons he allegedly used as well as half-broken mementos of the most well-known villains he defeated. The walls are covered in all kinds of pictures and posters of him, from fight scenes to movie shots, to interviews and Hero Billboard Chart photos. The text-filled plates accompanying them seem to be chronicling the hero’s entire career from the start to the most recent events. Thankfully, there is no sign of the man himself. He’s probably still busy with the fans downstairs.  

It’s a bit bizarre not to see any mention of the hero’s tragic end, the reveal of his true state and subsequent retirement anywhere in the room, even though, logically, Dabi knows none of that has happened yet and therefore cannot actually be shown here. It’s just, after Kamino, nobody in Japan could think of All Might without also thinking of his last fight and what it meant for their future. Being a villain did not exclude him from that. For better or for worse, this was the legacy the ‘greatest hero of all time’ would leave behind, the memory of his countless victories always overshadowed by that one failure. Which is quite ironic, considering technically he didn’t even actually lose.

“It’s not as bad as I thought it would be,” Fuyumi comments quietly, snapping him from his musings. She’s standing next to him and together, they watch with amusement as Shouto runs up to the first glass-case he can find, more excited than they’ve ever seen him, only to stop abruptly once he realizes he’s too short to actually see what’s inside. “A little much, but I see how it would be fun, if you were into that sort of thing.”

“Don’t tell me you’re not an All Might fan?” he gasps mockingly, placing a hand over his heart in betrayal.

His sister grimaces slightly. “Like I said, he’s a little... too much.”

“It’s just the first room,” he reminds her. “I’m sure, by the end of it, ‘too much’ won’t even begin to cover it.”

She sighs, basically admitting he’s right, but walks over to one of the plates to read whatever bullshit is written there anyway. Dabi can’t be bothered with something as boring as that, so instead he decides to browse the ‘villain remains’ section, hoping to perhaps find some inspiration for his possible future evil deeds. As he passes by, he notices Shouto demanding to be picked up so he can actually watch the exhibits, with Endeavor unenthusiastically complying, while Rei observes them with a half-concerned half-amused expression. Natsuo is nowhere to be seen, most likely lost somewhere in the crowd of kids gathered around the largest exhibit in the room – a full-sized replica of All Might’s ridiculous car, Allmobile.    

It is rather morbid to walk alongside what is basically people’s body parts put on show – even if, what with the prejudice against mutant-type quirks still running rampant, most people wouldn’t consider those tails, horns, shells, wings, scales, claws or fangs as ‘real’ body parts. It is even more horrific when you realize the majority of the villains those parts used to belong to are long dead. In a way, it’s almost like a graveyard. A graveyard of those failed by society and murdered for trying to fight back, doomed to spend the rest of eternity as nothing more but a piece of trivia about a hero who cut their lives short.

For a moment, he wonders if that’s what the League would have become, in the end. A minor part of someone else’s story, a single cabinet with a severed hand, a few staples, a black tie, a bloody knife, a grey mask, a few green scales and a small blue ball, with the only thing left of them being their names and the dates of their death. If there would be kids, running around, laughing, making faces at what’s left of them, maybe writing some nasty words with a sharpie over the glass that they wouldn’t even understand themselves, their hands sticky from candy floss. If, one day, the League would be nothing more than just another group of villains, pathetic and forgettable, and as meaningless as their ideas.

Dabi isn’t stupid; he’s always been aware of the possibility that they might lose. But, one way or another, he’s always expected them to at least have some sort of impact. To think that they might not... To think that everything they achieved would have been for naught...

Well, it doesn’t matter now. But, he thinks, he might be a little glad that he will never have to find out.

“Woah, are those Fleugon’s wings?” Natsuo’s voice exclaims very close to Dabi’s ear, causing him to jump in surprise at the sudden intrusion. “I thought they were destroyed!”

He glances to the side to find his grinning brother pointing at the exhibit he’s been apparently staring at all this time. They are, indeed, a pair of delicate, see-through wings, which could have easily belonged to an actual fly if they weren’t over two meters wide. The right side of the wings is crumpled, as though squashed by a fist closing around it, and there are some tears in them along with a few brown stains that might be dried blood but might also just be dirt. A quick scan of the information plate tells Dabi that the villain they belonged to had a fly mutation quirk, which, unsurprisingly, caused him to be ostracized and abused by the society until he finally snapped and started to retaliate. He was eventually defeated by All Might in a grand battle, after which he killed himself before he could be tried for his crimes.

“You know him?”

“Yeah?” Natsuo gives him a weird look. “He was all over the news, like, a year ago. Dad was furious when All Might ended up being the one to catch him.”

“They say here that he killed himself after he was captured,” Dabi says, mostly to redirect the topic away from his poor knowledge of his own past, but also because it seems wrong that his brother is looking at this and grinning. “I wonder if they cut them off before that or after.”

Natsuo shivers, his smile dimming considerably as he looks at the wings again, hesitant. “I mean... they’re probably not even real. Just a really good reproduction or something.”

Dabi glances at the brown stains again.

“Look pretty real to me,” he says quietly.

Natsuo frowns, his face turning a little green. “They wouldn’t... Well, they must have fallen off on their own then, right? They wouldn’t just... cut off a part of his body to put in a museum?”

“Look at the place when they’re cut. It’s a straight line. Too perfect to be natural.”

“But—”

“Come on, Natsu, you’ve met our father,” Dabi cuts him off, his voice a mix of disgust and bitterness. “You think the rest of them are really any better?”

The boy’s face scrunches and he crosses his arms defiantly. He can’t quite look away from the mangled wings and his eyes are a little too wide to be natural, but there’s still clearly a part of him that wants to believe in heroes. It’s easy to convince yourself that the bad heroes are just an exception – that every icky thing you find out about them was done by the few fake ones and it doesn’t mean all of the rest are like that too. It’s the ideal way of thinking. It lets you acknowledge their faults, feel like you’re not being blind and yet still maintain your overall trust in the fundaments of the society you live in. It’s the safest frame of mind to have. 

It's also pretty fucking naïve.

“Dad might be awful, but it doesn’t mean all heroes are like that,” Natsuo argues, even as his eyes never stray away from the macabre exposition in front of them. “There are good ones too. The ones that really care about helping people. You know, like All Might. Or you. Or Keigo.”

“Sure, most heroes probably aren’t abusive assholes, I will give you that,” Dabi replies, deciding to ignore the part about him being an example of someone really caring about people. As if. “But they don’t really do anything to stop the ones who are, do they? I mean, someone made a decision to cut off this guy’s wings and put them here. Someone else had to do it, some other people had to agree to it, even more people saw it when it was being prepared and now almost everyone can see it because it’s on public display. And nobody, during all of that, made any effort to stop it. Not the heroes, not the workers, not even All Might. You can try to put the blame solely on the one who came up with the idea, but the truth is, turning a blind eye to something wrong automatically makes you complicit in it. No matter what your personal feelings on the matter are.”

“So what you’re saying is... there are no good heroes?” Natsuo asks quietly, after a long moment of silence, his crossed arms turning into something more akin to a self-hug.

The sight tugs at Dabi’s cold, dead heart and he sighs, realizing he might have pushed it a little too far. “I didn’t say that. I’m sure there are heroes who are truly doing this to help people. I just think a lot of them are too used to some things the society pushed at them that they no longer recognize it as bad and so they don’t protest against it like they should.”

Finally tearing his gaze away from the wings, Natsuo looks at him instead, frowning. “What do you mean?”

Dabi gestures vaguely at the whole ‘body parts’ exposition. “This, for example. I’m sure this wouldn’t be so widely accepted if those people weren’t villains. And mutants, too. I mean, we’re all used to quirks now, but it’s still different if it’s wings you’re showing in a glass case or, I don’t know, a severed leg. Because most people have legs. But only some have wings. And the villain part is pretty obvious. Villains aren’t seen as real people, so it’s fine if you cut off a part of their body so some brats can take pictures with it. They’re evil, so they deserve it. Nobody ever considers that most villains turn to crime out of desperation, not because they enjoy it. The moment someone is branded a villain, they stop being human and no one cares what happens to them after. It’s actually pretty fucked-up, if you think about it.”

Another moment of silence passes between them and Dabi lets it, knowing his brother needs time to properly digest his words. He never expected this trip to turn into an impromptu lesson on the failings of the hero society, but he’s kind of glad it did. It wouldn’t do for his siblings to stay ignorant to all the corruption of their world – even if they’re still kids.

“But what about...?” Natsuo hesitates, shooting Dabi a slightly anxious look. Dabi raises his eyebrows curiously, gesturing for his brother to go on. Natsu bites his lip, but eventually continues, albeit even more quietly. “I mean, haven’t you hurt that villain too? Were they not human?” Dabi stills, not really expecting that, and Natsu must notice because he hurriedly continues. “I know they attacked us and I’m not blaming you for hurting them, I know you did it to protect us, but I just don’t see how it’s any different from All Might defeating his enemies. They might have had their reasons, but they were still attacking innocent people, haven’t they? Who knows, maybe that person who attacked us had been desperate too. But does it mean we should have let them kill us?”

The same rage he felt when that villain put their eyes on his brothers flares in Dabi’s chest again and he scowls. “Of course not. That’s not what I’m saying. The problem isn’t heroes stopping the villains – it’s what they do to them after. They don’t listen to what caused their behaviour, they don’t try to help them, they just throw them in a cell to rot and then use their corpses as exhibits. That’s the issue. Not to mention how a lot of villains would simply never exists if our society wasn’t so corrupt. And that’s mostly heroes fault too, because they’re too comfortable in their positions to try to change anything for the better.”

Despite his words, Dabi can admit that he is perhaps somewhat hypocritical. It never even crossed his mind to wonder what reasons that villain could have had for attacking them; or that little girl, for that matter. But the uncomfortable truth is that it did not matter what their reasons were – nothing justifies attacking completely innocent people, especially children. If Dabi was still himself, he would have killed them without a second thought just for looking at his brothers with intent to harm. And before, he used to kill other villains just for the crime of pissing him off – that’s how he got here, after all. Now, with his vigilanting, he usually only targets truly unredeemable criminals like rapists or child kidnappers, and he is, in his humble opinion, justified in his harsh treatment of them, but it has not been like that before. Is he truly any better than heroes in that regard? Or was he too blinded by his quest for revenge to notice he somehow turned into someone he despises?

Meanwhile, unaware of Dabi’s internal crisis, Natsuo nods slowly. “I think—I think I get what you mean. Most heroes are good people, but being a good person doesn’t mean you can’t do bad things too. It’s not all black and white.”

That’s not exactly what Dabi meant, but he will take that. It’s enough for Natsuo’s age and, besides, Dabi suddenly doesn’t feel like the best authority on the flaws of heroes. The most important part is to make his brother question the status quo a bit more and, hopefully, form his own opinions.

And, well, he also really wants to change the subject. Immediately.

“Yeah.” He nods, assuming a gravely serious expression. “Like you’re a good person, but you’re still stealing my food when I leave it in the fridge.”

Natsuo huffs. “It’s not stealing if it’s in the fridge. The fridge is a public space.”

Dabi raises an eyebrow. “Sure. I will remember you said that the next time you get mum to buy you that chocolate pudding you love so much.”

“You don’t even like that pudding!”

“I will feed it to Keigo.” Dabi shrugs, grinning devilishly. “He’s like a garbage disposal. He will eat anything.”

Natsuo grimaces. “Gross. I don’t want to hear about your weird mating rituals.”

“How do you even know that expression?”

“Some of us read sometimes, you know.”

“I didn’t know you could read.”

“Ha, ha. You know, I’m actually top of my class in Japanese, so—"

“Boys!” their bickering is interrupted by Rei, calling them from where she stands next to the entrance to the next room together with Endeavor, Fuyumi and Shouto. “Come on, we’re moving on!”

“Coming!” Dabi shouts back, grabbing Natsuo’s wrist and pulling him towards their family. The boy grumbles something under his breath, but follows willingly enough.

Just as they’re about to reach the others though, Natsuo’s steps falter.

“Hey, Touya?” he asks quietly, chewing on his lower lip.

“Hm?”

“Even if heroes aren’t perfect... I’m still allowed to like them, right?”

Dabi’s expression softens. “Of course.” He sends his brother a tight smile, still unsettled with his less than pleasant self-realization. “What would Gang Orca do without his biggest fan?”

Natsuo’s answering grin is bright enough to rival even the most extravagant of All Might posters.

***         

The All Might exhibition is huge. Like, ridiculously enormous. After he and Natsuo join the rest of their family, they move on to the next room, and then the next room, and then the next room and then... Well, you get the point. Dabi had no idea it was even possible to have so much to say about a single person. There are some multimedia parts, with holograms, VR goggles, mini movie theatres and games, some more history, useless trinkets, quizzes with idiotic prizes, mock fighting ring and more.

By the time they reach the very last room, Dabi is pretty sure there’s nothing else they could throw at him that would be more scarring than watching two guys in stupid inflatable costumes swiping at each other with pool noodles for the pleasure of a yelling crowd of toddlers. And yet, somehow, this final stop turns out to be even more horrific than his worst nightmares could have prepared him for.

“What the fuck,” he whispers to nobody in particular, but nonetheless loud enough for some parents to send him pointedly admonishing looks.

He can’t really force himself to care though, seeing as he’s apparently been transported straight into a cheap horror movie. He freezes in place, causing some people behind him to stumble and curse him out, but he barely notices, staring at the room in front of him with wide eyes. And everywhere he looks, there’s All Might. Many All Mights. Too many. All Mights with sickly yellow skin, glassy dead eyes and caricaturally fake smiles that are just a bit too wide to not be creepy as fuck.

It's sort of like House of Wax. Except with just All Might. Which, honestly, might be worse.          

Uninvited, a shiver goes down his spine. Who on earth thought this was a good idea? One wax statue is already disturbing enough, and, in Dabi’s opinion, one too many. But fifteen? In one room? With the only difference between them being a slightly different version of the same hero costume? Are they trying to give children nightmares?

“Touya, come on!” an impatient shout brings him back to reality and away from his All Might-induced meltdown.

He blinks, trying to locate the source of the call, until he finally notices Natsuo waving at him from the other side of the room. Next to him, little Shouto is gawking at one of the wax figures, looking like he’s seconds away from disregarding the warning not to touch placed next to each of them. He, at least, doesn’t seem to find the statues nightmarish at all. And, if the excited brats running around from one All Might fake to another and pointing their chubby fingers at them are anything to go by, neither does anyone else.

Dabi pities their naïve little brains. They would probably be the ones insisting on splitting up if stuck in some creepy abandoned mansion, because this way they ‘might find the escape quicker’. Yeah, right. Dabi will take not being brutally murdered instead, thank you very much.

“Touya!”

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” he snaps back, rolling his eyes and directing his steps towards his family. Still, he makes sure not to come too close to any of the statues. One can never be too careful.

“What were you doing there, just standing like that?” Natsuo asks when he finally catches up to them, frowning. The rest of his family – even Endeavor, who himself is also avoiding any contact with the All Might horrors, although for a very different reason – appears similarly baffled at his behaviour.

Having realized he’s the only one here who would have any chance at surviving in a horror movie, Dabi decides it would be a futile effort to try to explain. “I was having a stroke.”

“Right...” Fuyumi says, eyeing him suspiciously.

“Let’s just go,” he sighs tiredly, rubbing his temples. “I swear, if I ever see All Might again, it will be too soon.”

Overall, they don’t seem quite convinced that he’s not crazy – which he isn’t, he’s just sensible – but eventually just shrug and move on. Dabi drags his feet as he follows them, staying a few steps behind, occasionally shooting a suspicious glance behind himself.

He spends the next minute and a half trying to remember if that one statue always had its head turned his way and wishing very hard that the answer is yes.

***

At last, they manage to escape from the All Might castle of terrors and find themselves back in a spacious hallway. Stuck to the walls is a wide array of brightly coloured arrows aiming in all possible directions, with the largest one – yellow, of course – spelling All Might and pointing to where they just came from. The rest is significantly smaller – including the bright orange one right under it, the one sporting their father’s name.

Dabi glances at the man to catch his reaction to that particular fact and, sure enough, Endeavor is glaring at the silly arrow with the same heated disdain he usually reserves for his misbehaving children. It’s a good thing the pointers are seemingly made from some sort of metal, because if they were wooden, well... finding the way to the All Might exposition might have become a tiny bit harder for all future visitors.

“Where to now?” he asks casually, pretending not to notice the one-sided battle between his father and an innocent inanimate object. He also pretends not to notice the way his entire family is hesitantly eyeing the Endeavor sign.

“We still haven’t seen Gang Orca,” Shouto complains quietly, hugging his beloved All Might plushie tight against his chest.

“We will, darling,” Rei assures him, her lips curling into a soft smile as she ruffles his hair. The moment she looks up though it fades into something more like a grimace. “However, I think we should see the exhibition dedicated to your father first.”

Endeavor perks up at that, finally looking away from the offending arrow, and turning to them with a proud tilt of his chin.

“That’s right. My exposition is infinitely better than all that tacky nonsense All Might has.”

“But do we haaave to?” Natsuo whines, scrunching his nose. “We basically have Endeavor museum at home.”

“I second that,” Dabi adds, grimacing. “I have enough nightmares about you as it is. I don’t need to have them about your wax statue as well.”  

Dabi’s brain must really be fried from all of the All Might rubbish he’s seen, because he could swear Endeavor flinches slightly at hearing his words. He doesn’t comment on it though and, more importantly, doesn’t seem any less eager to get them to his dumb exhibition.

“Come on, guys,” Fuyumi sighs, crossing her arms. “It might be fun. And besides, there’s enough time for us to see everything, so it’s not like we’re going to miss something if we go.”

“We’re also not going to miss anything if we don’t go,” Dabi mutters under his breath, for which he ears himself a glare from his sister and from his father. Yay, combo.

“Shouto, what do you think?”

The boy looks up at them, as though surprised to be included. His face doesn’t show much emotion one way or another – he kind of just seems bored.

“Will there be sweets?”

Dabi groans, Fuyumi rolls her eyes fondly and Rei chuckles, but looks at her husband questioningly.

Endeavor clears his throat. “Well, I am sure there will be some. However, I do not think you should be eating a lot of them as it is not healthy and—”

“Great, then we can go,” Shouto interrupts him, clearly uninterested in anything after the ‘yes’.

Before their father can voice his displeasure with such treatment, Rei claps her hands and sends them all a tight grin.

“It’s decided then! Touya, Natsuo, if you really don’t want to go, you can wait for us here, but I would really like you to come. Who knows, you might enjoy it after all.”

“Doubt it,” Dabi grumbles, dejected.

He still follows them when they go though, because standing in a hallway is just dumb. And, maybe, if luck is on his side, he might be able to leave the wax statue of his father with a face scar matching the original.

Chapter Text

For all his bragging, Endeavor’s room isn’t really that much different than all the other ones they’ve been through. It has all the same stuff – posters, pictures, holograms, weird items, half-scorched remains of his enemies, trivia contests, creepy wax statues and other bullshit Dabi isn’t remotely interested in. The colour scheme is mainly navy blue and bright orange, which is horrendous, and there are fake flame throwers scattered around, which is even worse. The temperature in the room seems to be deliberately higher than everywhere else, which would be a clever little addition if it wasn’t already so fucking hot outside.

Ironically though, the most baffling thing in the entire room has nothing to do with Endeavor at all.

“What is he doing here?” Endeavor growls, eyes narrowed into tiny slits as he glares at the man in front of him. The man that is so busy entertaining a crowd of starry-eyed children that he doesn’t even notice their arrival.

Perhaps Rei was right. Dabi might end up enjoying this after all.

“Holy shit, is that Endeavor?!” one of the brats surrounding All Might suddenly exclaims, pointing a chubby finger at their fuming father. The other kids turn their heads towards them as well and the awe on their faces seems to be enough to momentarily calm Endeavor’s growing ire.

Realizing they only have seconds before the inevitable disaster, Dabi grabs his brothers’ hands and pulls them along as he hastily distances himself from his father. He notices with relief that Rei and Fuyumi also do the same, joining them just in time, because not a moment later Endeavor is mercilessly ambushed by a horde of screaming children.

“Are you really Endeavor?!”

“Where are your flames?! I want to see them!”

“Burn something for us!

“Why aren’t you in your costume? Are you here on some secret mission?!”

“Is it true you eat naughty children?”

Endeavor fumbles under the assault of questions, looking as though he can’t decide whether to be offended, flattered or both. He grumbles something under his nose, his lips twisting into a half-smile half-grimace, but begrudgingly begins to sign a myriad of strange things the kids demandingly shove at him. However, to the disappointment of both Dabi and his little fans, he doesn’t set anything on fire.

(The mere concept of his father having fans is making Dabi sick, but he will forgive the poor children, for they are clearly still young and stupid. They’re probably the kind of brats who would date a ‘bad boy’ because they’re so sure they can fix him and then end up on the morning news. It’s really more pitiful than annoying.)

“It is just me or is this really weird?” Natsuo whispers, his eyebrows furrowed as he watches the scene in front of them.

“It is really weird,” Dabi confirms, and as though to prove his words, their father chooses this moment to hoist one of the kids up and put him on his hip so the kid’s mum can take a picture. “If I see him smile, I might puke.”

“I don’t know, it’s kind of sweet,” Fuyumi protests, because of course she does, but there’s something bitter in her tone that catches Dabi’s attention.

Her gaze is locked on the starry-eyed boy in their father’s arms, laughing and beaming and so obviously happy, and there’s such raw longing in her eyes that Dabi has to look away. He didn’t think he could hate Endeavor more than he already did, but it seems like the man always manages to surprise him.

“I didn’t know people actually liked dad,” Shouto muses, genuinely confused.

“It’s ‘cause they don’t know him,” Natsuo explains, continuing to half-glare at the small crowd. “If they did, they definitely wouldn’t be asking him to burn anything.”

Dabi’s expression darkens. “Exactly. They don’t know he would most likely just burn them.”

Both of his brothers flinch slightly at that, which is not really what he wanted but, in a way, it’s good to know they haven’t totally forgotten what their father is like just because he’s been somewhat nice for a few days. The kids surrounding Endeavor are allowed to be naïve – they see his fire as something amazing, something warm and comforting, something to make cool tricks with and, most importantly, something that is used to protect them. They have no idea what it feels like to have this same fire burn through their skin, leaving behind finger-shaped marks and bone-deep fear.

Their family, however, does not have the same privilege.

“I wonder what All Might’s doing here,” Fuyumi says quietly, very obviously attempting to change the subject, something that Dabi is for once grateful for. After all, the room is already hot enough as it is. “He looks so... awkward.”

Indeed, All Might does look pretty awkward, standing there in the middle of the room, surrounded on all sides by his rival’s face and being blatantly ignored by said rival in favour of a bunch of snot-nosed brats. He clearly wants to approach Endeavor, if only because that’s what you do, but he also doesn’t want to interrupt the on-going picture taking session. It’s also very possible that he’s hesitating because he knows his presence will not be appreciated. To be honest, Dabi has no idea why he would even bother, politeness and properness be damned.

“Of course he does,” Dabi snorts, crossing his arms and sending the man a pitiful look. “It’s his own fault for being a slave of societal conventions. Not to mention these ridiculous clothes.”

Fuyumi raises her eyebrows. “You’re the last person who can judge someone’s clothes.”

“Come on, Yumi, you can’t honestly tell me you buy into this whole latex thing?” He waves a hand in the general direction of the hero, charitably deciding to ignore the undeserved slander of his awesome fashion, and grimaces to highlight his point. “It’s hero work, not BDSM.” 

“What’s BDSM?” Shouto asks, but luckily for everyone, Endeavor chooses this moment to start excusing himself from his fans, gruffly thanking them for their support and even ruffling one boy’s hair. Which is enough to distract Shouto, who is now glaring at the random boy with a mix of jealousy and hostility. “That’s not fair. He never does that to me.”

And because Dabi doesn’t like having his heart broken before lunch, he immediately reaches out to pat his brother’s fluffy head, all the while heavily regretting not murdering the man when he had a chance.

“That’s why you have me,” he says matter-of-factly, continuing to ruin Shouto’s hairstyle until the boy starts to frown and attempts to grab his hand to stop him, which achieves exactly nothing other than making Dabi grin harder. “So fuck him, yeah? Don’t let him ruin your mood. He’s not worth it.”

The fact that Rei doesn’t admonish him for his vocabulary says a lot. So does her pained expression, even though she tries to hide it – not very successfully. In fact, he only now notices that she hasn’t said a word since the children ambushed them. Instead, she’s been staring at the way Endeavor interacts with them – not gently, but not ungently either. How he lets them ramble on about whatever they have on their mind, how he lets them shout at him and only nods in response, how he smiles the slightest bit for the photographs and allows the kids to wrap their arms around his neck. How does that make her feel? Is she angry? Bitter? Wistful? How does it feel to know your husband is so much nicer to strangers than his own children? That he isn’t always a monster from their nightmares – that it’s only them he’s haunting? 

Does it hurt more, to know he’s capable of being kind but simply chooses not to? 

Before anyone can say anything else, Endeavor is already on his way to rejoin them, his expression immediately souring back into a grimace the moment his back is turned. When he reaches them, he seems to notice something is wrong – he even falters the slightest bit in his last two steps, eyeing them all with a frown – but, naturally, he doesn’t ask. Maybe he knows he wouldn’t like the answer.

“I am sorry about that,” he says instead and there’s something absolutely infuriating about the fact that he can say the word so easily about something so trivial, yet refuses to apologize for things that actually matter. “I wasn’t expecting this many people.”

And the way he says it doesn’t even try to cover his smugness, as though those few kids could in any way compare to the crowds they’ve passed in the All Might rooms. Which, speaking of All Might, he’s finally making his way towards them, although rather slowly, sauntering near the exhibitions and ‘casually’ glancing at whatever is written next to them, like he thinks it will somehow make it look like he bumped into them on accident.

“Oh, it’s no problem,” Rei says, but her smile is empty. “It wouldn’t do to disappoint your fans.”

Increasingly uncomfortable, Endeavor clears his throat. “Right. Well, we should be moving on. There’s another room after this one, we will need to go through that door—”

“Ah, Endeavor!”

All Might’s booming voice interrupts their father then, causing the man to stiffen and unenthusiastically turn around to face him.

He gives a curt nod. “All Might.”

Undeterred, the Number One Hero flashes them his signature smile, his eyes surveying all of them curiously. “I was wondering if I would see you here! It didn’t seem like something you would enjoy.”

“Clearly you don’t know a lot about me.”

All Might chuckles, but with a very audible uneasy undertone to it. “It certainly seems like it.” Then, after an uncomfortable moment of silence, “I assume this is your family?” 

“Wow, how did you guess?” Dabi replies sarcastically, earing himself a sharp elbow nudge from Fuyumi. He hisses and glares at her, but, of course, she’s pretending she hasn’t done anything.   

Meanwhile, All Might lets out another forced laugh. “Haha, you’re quite a jokester, aren’t you? You’re Endeavor’s oldest I take it? What’s your name, young man?”

Since Dabi is not a jokester and he’s certainly not Endeavor’s anything, he decides to assume the question isn’t aimed at him and remains silent. Which, to nobody’s surprise, does not go over well with his annoying sperm donor.

“This is Touya.” Endeavor says, not even bothering to hide the distaste in his tone as he pins Dabi with an icy stare. “His manners are quite lacking, I’m afraid.”

All Might answers with a chuckle – which at this point Dabi is sure is just his response to any awkward situation ever – and a carefree wave of hand. “Oh, I’m sure he’s just shy. I hear teenagers are like that.”

Fuyumi puts her palm on her mouth to hide her grin and Natsuo wiggles his eyebrows at him, and Shouto mumbles, “Since when is Touya shy?” under his nose, and Dabi is not amused, thank you very much, but the conversation goes on before he can protest that he is not shy, he would just rather eat a raw onion than willingly fraternize with someone like All Might.

“Not all teenagers. Some of us are actually civilized,” Fuyumi says, still grinning, and offers All Might a small bow. “My name is Fuyumi. It’s really nice to meet you.”

A little more relaxed, All Might eagerly returns her grin. “The pleasure is all mine, young Fuyumi!”

“And I’m Natsuo! I’m not technically a teenager yet, but I’m still nicer than Touya!” Natsuo says cheekily, then gestures to their last sibling, who’s half-hidden behind their mother’s leg. “And this is Shouto, he’s a real fan of yours!”

Now seemingly completely at ease, All Might responds with an expected level of annoying enthusiasm. “Well met, Natsuo and Shouto!” And when his gaze lands on the plush toy Shouto is hugging to his chest, he somehow, impossibly, brightens even more. He crouches as much as he can, being a mountain of a human being, to better meet Shouto’s eyes and points at his plush counterpart. “Oh my, and what do you have there? If I recall correctly, this one is quite hard to get. Did your father buy it for you?”

Endeavor lets out a disgruntled scoff at the suggestion, while Shouto’s expression turns bewildered.

“No. Father says toys are distracting.” Dabi has to reel in a snort that threatens to escape his mouth at the downright horrified face All Might makes. Undeterred, Shouto continues,  “Touya gave it to me.” 

Smile now strained at the edges, All Might nods slowly. “I see. Your brother must really care about you if he got you such an expensive gift.”

Shouto shrugs. “He got it from his school. He said either I take it or it goes into the trash.”

“Right.” A very nervous chuckle, a wide-eyed glance up at Dabi, then, “Well, I hope it serves you well nonetheless. Take good care of the little me, okay?”

Shouto doesn’t say anything for a moment, apparently not expecting this kind of response. But eventually, he ducks his head, his cheeks turning a little pink, and mutters, “I will.”

“I’m honoured to hear that! I’m sure I can count on you!”

Shouto nods shyly before retreating and hiding behind Rei’s leg. Taking the hint, All Might straightens up and doesn’t waste the opportunity to flex his muscles while he’s at it. One of the mothers in the background sighs dreamily. Dabi rolls his eyes.

Meanwhile All Might, being suddenly face to face with Rei, blanches. “Oh my, where are my manners! You must be Endeavor’s wife! Rei, is it? I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure to meet you properly before.”

“My husband’s quite a private man,” Rei explains with a tight smile and offers All Might a small nod, which he eagerly returns. “It is a pleasure though. We’re all very grateful for your work.”

“Are we?” Dabi asks to himself, earning himself another painful hit to the ribs, this time from Natsu.

“Yes, we are,” his brother says, eyeing Dabi threateningly, all while beaming up at the hero. “You’re, like, so cool. I saw you rescue an entire building full of people last week! It was all over the internet, everyone was so impressed and nobody even died! Even our dad couldn’t do something like that.”

His eyes widening dramatically, All Might’s gaze snaps to Endeavor and he looks genuinely mortified, even if the comment isn’t necessarily untrue. On his part, their father’s expression sours, his fists clenched in a death grip at his sides and Dabi needs to stifle the automatic urge to put himself between his brother and the man’s ire, reminding himself that they are in public and the chance of Endeavor actually physically harming them is relatively slim. Which is probably why Natsuo even said it at all.

Or, maybe, he’s following Dabi’s lead and testing the man’s boundaries. How much will it take to make him snap? Are his promises of change genuine? Some would say it’s better to take one beating than forever live in uncertainty. It’s probably not a very healthy approach, but who said any of them were entirely mentally sound?  

After a clearly fake bit of coughing, All Might strings together enough words to respond, “Now, my boy, don’t say that! Your father is a great hero!”

“More like a great asshole,” Dabi mutters and this time, nobody hits him. Although Endeavor certainly looks like he wants to.

All Might laughs, like he thinks Dabi is joking. Unfortunately for him, he’s the only one.

“I like your movies better than father’s,” Shouto adds in this adorable too-serious tone of his, as if they weren’t already digging enough of a grave for themselves. Rei’s hands are beginning to tremble, her lips pursed tightly enough to turn white. Fuyumi is biting her lip, eyeing their father anxiously. Possibly noticing the rising tension, Shouto hurries to add, “They’re more... colourful. And the blood looks much more realistic.”

Panicked and definitely realizing he never should have approached them, All Might laughs again, but his eyes are visibly searching for an exit. The high temperature in the room probably makes Endeavor’s heated glare directed at him all the more scorching.

“Haha, you sure have an interesting taste, young man!” After a few more desperate glances around in search of a distraction bear no fruit, All Might clears his throat and ostensibly checks his watch. “Ah, but, as nice as it was to meet you, I’m afraid I can’t stay much longer. I have a panel to attend to.”

“Then you better hurry,” Endeavor says, voice bone-chillingly cold. “It wouldn’t do for the Number One to be late.”

“Exactly!” All Might exclaims, a note too high, already backing away. “I have to set a good example. Can’t be tardy if you’re the Symbol of Peace, haha!”

They all watch him as he basically sprints out of the room with various levels of amusement. Except for Endeavor, of course, whose only emotion ever is anger and discontentment. Which, now that All Might is gone, is free to be directed back at them. Dabi braces himself, just in case, but their father only tsks.

“Finally. I thought he would never leave.” He does glare at them though. “I do not appreciate the comments you’ve made. Being insolent in private is one thing, but when we’re in public I expect you to show me appropriate respect.”

Dabi tilts his head, pretending to be confused. “But that’s what we’re doing.”

His eyes narrowing into slits, Endeavor growls, “I am not going to argue with you right now. Restrain yourself or we’re going home.”

“But we haven’t seen Gang Orca yet!” Natsuo protests before he can stop himself, his mouth snapping shut when their father’s burning stare is aimed at him.

“And we won’t if you can’t behave properly,” the man responds cruelly, heavily accenting each word. He notices Dabi attempting to speak and continues before any sound can actually get out, “No, I will not relent on this. We’ve already seen enough that you can’t accuse me of being unreasonable when all I ask for is basic manners. I will not be publicly humiliated by my own family.”

“We’re sorry. We will behave,” Fuyumi rushes to assure him, eyes pleading, even attempting a weak smile. “We promise.”

But Endeavor isn’t looking at her. Of course he isn’t – his demand isn’t really directed at her. And while a lot of the cheeky comments were made by Natsu and Shouto, the man’s expectant eyes are locked solely on Dabi. 

He sighs, vows to really get back to that whole murder plan soon, and says with as much derision as he can muster, “Fine. We promise to behave. Satisfied?” It’s a rhetorical question, but since Endeavour is an asshole, he smirks and nods. Dabi rolls his eyes. “Great. Now, can we finally go see Gang Orca? I have a date to get to.”

***

They don’t immediately manage to find Gang Orca, because of course they don’t. If Dabi didn’t know any better, he might have suspected Endeavor was leading them to the wrong places on purpose. There’s Sir Nighteye, whose room they don’t even glance at, Crimson Riot, whose exhibition is, in fact, very crimson, Ectoplasm, who Dabi will forever insists looks more like a villain than a hero, and around half a dozen other heroes he doesn’t recognize.

He has to stop himself from glancing at his phone every minute to check the time – Keigo did say to take his time and not hurry, but he still feels a little guilty for basically blowing him off at the last moment. If he’s being honest, now that they’re not allowed to bicker too much, the trip is painfully boring.

Still, he realizes he’s the only one feeling this way – except for perhaps Fuyumi, who is also peeking at her phone suspiciously often – so he keeps his mouth shut as promised and mostly amuses himself with watching Shouto attempt to touch every single item with the ‘do not touch’ sign on it that they pass.

“I’ve never seen him this animated,” Fuyumi remarks quietly, her small smile both happy and wistful. Her and Dabi have been lagging slightly behind everyone else, only breaking the companionable silence from time to time to remark on something particularly interesting.

“To be fair, we barely used to see him at all,” Dabi points out, just to be contrary.

He knows what his sister means, of course – he’s noticed it too. He doesn’t have many memories of Shouto from before, and what he does remember is still tainted by the jealousy and resentment his younger self used to feel towards the kid, but even he can tell how differently Shouto is behaving. The simple fact that he sometimes smiles now is an achievement on its own – that he actually acts like a child he is right now is monumental.

Fuyumi rolls her eyes at him, but she can’t quite manage to actually sound annoyed. “You know what I mean.”

He grins. “Do I?”

She glares at him to let him now his teasing is not appreciated, then turns pensive. “What I’m trying to say is – it’s been good for him. This new... peace. It’s been good for us.” When he stays silent, she averts her eyes and bites her lip. “I know you don’t want to hear it. And I get why. What he did to you... I’m not going to pretend I could ever understand what you feel.” She takes a deep breath. “But. I think your hatred for him is making you selfish. You might not want to have anything to do with him, but we do. And you’re ruining it for us.”

He sees her bracing herself for his response – most likely expecting another screaming match or something equally explosive – but Dabi doesn’t have it in himself to get mad at her when she looks like that. After all, she’s just a child yearning for her father’s love – hasn’t he been the same at her age?   

His grin long gone, Dabi offers his sister a sad stare. “If a few comments can ruin it, then was it even real to begin with?”

“He’s trying,” she insists, whisper-shouting, her eyes darting towards the rest of their family as though to make sure they can’t hear her. “But if you keep angering him, he might decide it’s pointless and then when does that leave us?”

“Did you already forget what happened earlier?” he replies, gently but firmly, trying to remain unmoved by her pleading tone. “Did it look like trying to you?”

“Yes! Yes, it did!” She almost smiles when her answer makes him pause, but doesn’t let the triumph distract her. “He didn’t hit you, he didn’t burn you, he even agreed to everything you asked for! How is that not trying?”

He blinks at her in honest shock. “Wow, the bar is on the floor, huh?”

“Be serious!”

“I am! Excuse me for not thinking my father not setting me on fire is something to congratulate him for!”

“That’s not what I said!” she snaps in frustration, her voice going from whisper-shout to more shout-shout. She catches herself though and continues in a much quieter manner, “I’m not saying he’s perfect or even good! But if you did something like this a few weeks ago? I would have feared for your life. Now all he did was yell a little and still relented in the end! That’s trying.”

Dabi takes a deep breath, because shouting will get him nowhere. He makes sure their family’s attention is still away from them, grabs his sister’s hand, and forces her to stop walking and look him in the eyes.

“Yumi,” he starts, for once grave serious. “I know you want to love him. I know you want us to be a normal family, whatever the fuck that means. But I need you to understand something, okay?” She frowns and doesn’t nod, but lets him finish anyway. “We deserve more than bare minimum. We deserve more than his trying. We deserve more than him.”

She swallows, and blinks back the wetness forming in her eyes, and doesn’t answer.

“I’m not going to apologize for arguing with him today, because I’m not going to let him treat me like shit anymore,” he continues, hoping against hope that he might actually get to her, if only a little. Fuyumi inhales shakily, still silent, and so he softens his voice when he finishes, “But I am sorry for almost ruining the trip. I promise I never meant to hurt any of you.”

Sniffling softly, Fuyumi rubs the corners of her eyes with her free hand. He gives her time to collect herself, simply holding her and idly stroking circles on her palm with his thumb. It’s only a matter of time before their disappearance is noticed, but this moment feels too important to rush it.

Finally, she straightens and meets his gaze with newfound determination. “You didn’t almost ruin the trip. Father did. I’m not ready to give up on him – not yet. But I’m not stupid. I know he’s not a good person. I just want to believe that he could be, one day.” She offers him a weak smile, as though to say ‘what can I do?’. “Still, I’m sorry for making you feel like it was your fault. And thank you.”

He raises his eyebrows. “For what?”

“For saving the trip,” she says, now full on smiling. “I know you don’t want to go to that party, but you still agreed, for us. You didn’t have to.”

Reciprocating the smile, he releases her hand and instead bumps his shoulder against hers. “’Course I did. That’s what big brothers do.” She snorts and he laughs, and they slowly begin to walk again, intent on catching up with the rest of their family. “Besides, the party might not be so bad. I will get to bring Keigo and we might be able to steal some booze when mum won’t be looking.”

Fuyumi chuckles, and oh, she thinks he’s joking. “Be careful. If she catches you, you will be grounded forever.”

Not about to set her right about that, he settles on sending her a wink. “I will take that risk.”

***

They catch up with the rest of the Todoroki clan fairly easily, all things considered. Likely because they haven’t been moving very fast, what with Shouto insisting on putting his sticky little hands on everything in sight. Their short departure doesn’t go unnoticed, but all they receive is a curious look from Natsuo and a worried frown from Rei. There aren’t any visible traces of her momentary distress left on Fuyumi – her eyes aren’t even red or anything – but somehow, Rei seems to know something emotional happened between them anyway. Must be some sort of motherly sixth sense – or maybe their mother has a secondary quirk she’s never mentioned before. Or magic.

Whatever it is, it makes her keep a keener eye on them, but Dabi is fairly sure they’re alright. Perhaps better than they were before, even. They’re still not completely on the same page, but Dabi was never expecting that. It’s enough that they can support each other despite their differences.

“I heard about an excellent Polish restaurant not far from here,” Endeavor is saying, presumably to them all, but only Rei and Fuyumi seem to actually be listening. “I thought we could have dinner there after we’re done here. There’s this dish one of my sidekicks was especially recommending—"    

“Finally!” Natsu interrupts him, loud enough for a few passers-by to wince at the volume, pointing at the large sign over the archway at the end of the hallway spelling Gang Orca in shiny black and white letters, and before anyone can stop him, he’s already running towards it.

Thanking his quick reflexes, Dabi manages to grab Shouto’s wrist before the little beast can try to follow, which earns him a huff and a pout. Cocking an eyebrow, Dabi tightens his grip and stares his brother down as the boy fruitlessly attempts to free himself.

“You suck,” Shouto mumbles, glaring at Dabi with his adorable baby face.

Dabi’s answering laugh is interrupted by Rei’s disapproving voice, “Shouto! Who taught you that word?!”

Instead of a verbal answer, for some reason, both Shouto and Fuyumi pointedly look at him.

Traitors.

“What?” Dabi raises his free hand in a defensive gesture, blinking innocently. “I’ve never heard a bad word in my life.”

Rei only exhales in defeat, but, of course, nothing can ever be that easy.

Frowning, Endeavor crosses his arms and pins him with what is probably supposed to be a ‘stern parental gaze’ but only makes him look constipated. “You need to control your language around your siblings.”

Momentarily forgetting about the promise he made earlier, Dabi shoots the man his nastiest glare. “Fuck off.”

“Touya,” Rei warns, pinching her nose.  

“What?” He shrugs, unapologetic. “He started it.”

Fortunately, Endeavor does a smart thing for once and chooses to let it go, a brash tsk the only sign of his discontentment. It’s actually Rei who seems more put out with him, which, yeah, he doesn’t even blame her. He vows to talk to her in private soon, explain himself better, apologize, perhaps gently propose the idea of therapy, because he’s not sure how long she can go on like this. And, well, his recent behaviour certainly hasn’t been helping her already vulnerable psyche. 

Nevertheless, they follow Natsuo inside the Gang Orca exhibition, although at a more reasonable pace, and to their collective surprise, they find him engrossed in some kind of passionate conversation with a large, orca-shaped figure. An orca-shaped figure who is way too alive to simply be Gang Orca’s wax statue.

“…and she’s really beautiful and nice, and she never screams at us, so really, you would be very happy with her!” is what they catch him saying, his head tilted to the side and a childishly innocent, toothy smile aimed at the startled hero.

Gang Orca doesn’t seem offended or even particularly annoyed by their brother – although it’s a bit hard to tell for sure what his expression is, what with him being, well, an orca – if anything, he appears mostly amused. He’s nodding indulgently as he listens to Natsuo ramble, possibly even smiling, though, again, it’s a bit difficult to tell. All that aside, he obviously doesn’t realize Natsuo’s naïve, innocent kid behaviour is nothing more than a clever act.

Fuyumi blinks in astonishment. “Is he really…?”

Dabi responds with a grin. “He sure is.”

“Ha, I’m sure I would!” Gang Orca chuckles in response. “You’re very lucky to have such a wonderful mother, kid.”

“I know, right?” Natsuo flashes the man another disarming smile. “She’s so awesome, so you should totally consider marrying her!”

A pained sound escapes Rei’s mouth, not dissimilar to a cry of a wounded animal. Her entire body stills, blood draining from her face, leaving it ghostly pale. Her eyes are comically wide as they dart from Natsuo to a deeply frowning Endeavor and, suddenly, Dabi doesn’t find the situation all that hilarious anymore.

Gang Orca scratches the back of his neck. “Ah, well...”

Fortunately for the fishy hero, Rei shakes off her momentary paralysis and rushes forward to save him from her unruly son. The rest of them follow behind her, although substantially slower, with Endeavor visibly upset even though, considering he’s the only one not on the joke out of all of them, he’s most likely not actually sure what exactly he’s upset about. Luckily, the room is almost empty, save for a single dad with his toddler daughter and a pair of lingering teenagers who seem more interested in each other than any drama happening around them, so there won’t be that many bystanders to worry about when this little altercation inevitably turns ugly.  

“Let me go!” Shouto demands, once again attempting to wrench himself out of Dabi’s grip, and this time, too busy watching the imminent train wreck in front of his eyes, Dabi releases him without complaint. Once freed, the boy immediately ditches them, hurrying to join Rei at Natsuo’s side.

Fuyumi and Dabi share a similarly uncertain look, both shrug at the same time and also speed up to join the spectacle, with a scowling Endeavor trailing behind them without a word.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Orca, I’m sure my son didn’t mean to offend you,” Rei is apologizing when they reach them, her cheeks slightly pink and expression flustered. Shouto is clutching at her pants with one hand, the other occupied with hugging his mini All Might, and gawking at the imposing figure of the hero in front of him. Natsuo is standing beside the two of them, no trace of his earlier childishness left, grinning smugly.

Dabi raises an eyebrow at his younger brother and whispers to him. “You know that was stupid, right?”

Natsu shrugs, seemingly unbothered. “I mean, I didn’t really think he would agree or anything. I just wanted to see father’s face.”

Which, valid, Dabi will give him that. Doesn’t mean it’s not dumb as hell, but really, who is Dabi to judge? Especially since, was he at an age that would let him get away with it by pretending to be an oblivious child, he probably would have done it too.

“Nice.” He raises his palm up for a high-five and Natsu promptly delivers with an appropriate level of enthusiasm.

“No, not nice,” Fuyumi hisses, bringing them back to reality. “Did you forget that you promised dad to behave?”

“Touya promised dad to behave,” Natsuo points out, which is technically true, but not really the solid argument he thinks it is. “I don’t remember promising anything.”

Dabi winces when Fuyumi’s accusing stare swiftly snaps to him. He would like to say that he didn’t actually do anything this time, but they are both painfully aware that Natsuo has most likely done this to impress him, so it is, technically, still his fault. Of course it is.   

Meanwhile, Rei and Gang Orca don’t seem to realize that they have an audience now, except maybe for Shouto, who is eavesdropping on them from where he’s leaning against their mother’s leg. Rei is still frantically apologizing to the orca-shaped hero, who, really, doesn’t seem all that upset about the whole thing. If anything, he’s almost as flustered by the situation as Rei herself. 

“Please, ma’am, it’s alright,” he says, raising his hands in a placating gesture, a bashful smile revealing two rows of sharp white teeth. “He didn’t offend me at all. I actually thought it was really sweet how much he obviously adores you.”

“Oh,” Rei replies softly, surprise painted clearly on her face.

Gang Orca appears pleased by her reaction, if the glint of evident fascination in his red eyes is anything to go by. “And from what I can see – although please ignore me if I’m overstepping here – he definitely wasn’t lying about your many outstanding qualities.”

And alright, wait a fucking moment. Dabi’s pretty sure his jaw must be hanging open by now, because what the hell? Is Gang Orca... flirting? With their mum? Is this truly happening? Could Natsuo’s ‘my mum is great, you should marry her’ elevator pitch have actually worked?

“Oh, well, ah,” Rei stutters, lowering her gaze to her feet, her cheeks getting even pinker than before. “You’re very kind. But I’m sure my son was exaggerating.”

The hero laughs and, even though he’s considerably younger now, he already seems to possess this deep, reverberating daddy voice that all the girls (gn) used to endlessly fangirl about online in his timeline. It takes all of Dabi’s might to remember he’s already a taken man and not to shiver. His mother is not as strong.

“It’s hard to judge someone’s cooking abilities just from talking to them, I admit,” the hero teases, and yup, this is definitely flirting. “But he certainly wasn’t exaggerating about your beauty.”

On his right side, Fuyumi’s face is stuck somewhere between amazed and downright horrified.    On his left side, Natsu’s smug grin is about to split his face in half. At Rei’s feet, Shouto’s eyebrows are furrowed, and he keeps glancing at Gang Orca and his mother with this specific expression he only wears when he’s trying to solve some great mystery. Dabi is torn between wolf-whistling and snapping a picture to show to Keigo, because the birdie is so not going to believe this.

Alas, he doesn’t get to do either, because suddenly there’s a familiar smell of burning coming from behind them and it’s more than enough to bring them back to the unpleasant reality.

Endeavor clears his throat obnoxiously, like an asshole he is, and cuts in, with his face twisted into some thunderous imitation of politeness, “While I agree with you about my wife’s many wonderful qualities, I would appreciate it if you kept your comments to yourself.”

Rei honest to god jumps at hearing Endeavor’s voice, whatever positive emotions she’s been experiencing fleeing instantly, leaving behind only guilt and fear. She turns to him with wide eyes, her hands shaking, and swallows heavily when she notices the smoke rising from his clenched fists. Gang Orca startles a bit at first, obviously put off by Rei’s extreme reaction, but his surprise quickly turns into contempt once he realizes who exactly it is that interrupted them.

“Ah, Endeavor,” Gang Orca says, his words polite but his tone very much the opposite. “Please, excuse me. I meant no disrespect.”

“You flirt with my wife and claim you meant no disrespect?” Endeavor replies coldly.

Gang Orca straightens in his place, expression and tone equally cold. “I wasn’t aware complimenting people is no longer allowed.”

“It isn’t,” Dabi cheerily chimes in, ignoring both his heartbeat speeding up without his permission and the searing glare his father sends him. If he plays this right, he should be able to take the brunt of Endeavor’s anger off Rei and Natsuo, and instead make the man focus it on him, as it should be. “You have to forgive my father’s poor manners, Mr. Orca. He wouldn’t know a compliment if it kicked him in a face.”

Fuyumi elbows him in the side with a hiss, but he just swats her away. At this point, they’re fucked anyway – even the ‘good’ Endeavor has some limits and he’s sure to unleash his wrath on them the moment they’re alone. And so if they can’t avoid what’s coming, then Dabi can at least make sure he’s the one getting the worst of it – if only because he’s the only one who can actually try to fight back.

“Of course, young man.” Gang Orca nods, losing some of his cold demeanour. “Believe me, I know your father well enough not to expect anything else.”

Dabi snorts before he can stop himself. Hearing actual prominent figures shitting on his useless father will never not make him laugh, even if the situation they’re currently in isn’t particularly funny. Gang Orca’s response is to send him a wink. He might have just become Dabi’s new favourite hero. Hawks will have to forgive him.

(And, well, as far as he knows, Gang Orca didn’t spend literal years sleeping with an Endeavor plushie, did he?)

“So will you marry mum or not?” Shouto demands suddenly, his expression deadly serious. His little arms are crossed defiantly and his piercing gaze is drilling into Gang Orca with an intensity no six-year-old should possess. 

“Ah, but I’m afraid your mum already has a husband,” the man answers, smiling apologetically, but Dabi doesn’t miss the way he glances at Rei with poorly hidden flash of regret. Judging by the way she abruptly averts her eyes, Rei doesn’t either.    

“Yes, but father sucks,” Shouto says, with genuine innocence, and just like that, Dabi’s carefully curated plans of drawing Endeavor’s wrath to himself collapse into a pile of ashes. 

A horrified gasp escapes their mother’s mouth, her wide eyes darting between Shouto and Endeavor, her face white as a sheet. Her entire body is trembling, but she still instinctively pushes Shouto behind herself, shielding him from their father’s imminent fury. Except for that one little sound, everyone else is gravely silent. Fuyumi is holding her breath, her fingers tightly gripping the hem of her shirt. Natsu is biting his lip, no doubt feeling guilty about starting this whole thing. Shouto seems confused as to why his words have had such a strong reaction, but obediently remains hidden behind Rei’s legs. Gang Orca is frowning, the dark look he’s giving Endeavor carefully calculating.

Endeavor himself honestly looks like he’s about to set the entire museum on fire.

“That’s enough,” he barks, baring his teeth and stomping forwards, face twisted into a hateful scowl.

Their mother grasps Shouto’s arm and takes a few unsteady steps back, attempting to usher them out of the way, but still making sure to keep herself between her husband and her son.  

“Enji—” she tries to explain, but the man cuts her off immediately.

“Haven’t you heard what he said? Have I not made it clear that I will not tolerate such disrespect, especially in public? Not only that, but you trying to cheat on me?”

Rei shakes her head frantically. “I wasn’t—!"

“Weren’t you? So you’re claiming you weren’t just flirting with him, right in front of me?” Endeavor’s voice is both venomous and mocking, enough to make Rei flinch. “Do you think I’m a fool?”

“You’re wrong!” she cries, looking more and more distressed. “You’re wrong...”

The few people milling around start shooting them concerned glances, but Endeavor seems to be too far gone in his anger to care about making a scene. Dabi wonders if he should intervene, but worries it might backfire – instead of turning the man’s rage to him, he might just make him more angry at them and that’s the last thing they need right now. But fuck if just standing there, doing nothing to protect them, isn’t driving him crazy. He doesn’t really think their father would do something physically violent where other people can see it, but, well, he’s been wrong about Endeavor before.

“This was just a joke, I promise,” Rei insists, making sure to keep her eyes as far from Gang Orca as possible. “Please, Enji, let’s just go, okay?”

“Oh, no, we are not going anywhere else,” the man sneers. His facial hair catches on fire and he doesn’t bother extinguishing it. “I will not tolerate you acting like a cheap whore.”

Gang Orca takes a step forward. “Now, this is not how you should speak to your wife—”

“Stay out of it,” Endeavor snaps at Gang Orca, spitting saliva around like a feral animal. Then, he directs his glare at Shouto, only to swiftly move it to the three of them, tense and huddled together, with Dabi in the middle gripping his sibling’s wrists in an attempt at comfort. “And you. You are nothing more than a bunch of ungrateful little brats and you do not deserve this trip. I have had enough. We are going straight home.”

“No...” Natsu whispers to himself, looking both disappointed and extremely guilty.

“That’s not fair,” Shouto mumbles, his head held down.

Fuyumi stays silent and begs Dabi with her eyes to stay quiet as well. He doesn’t like it, not at all, but he sees her point and purses his lips, for once keeping his many thoughts to himself. 

“Enji, come on, don’t do this to them,” Rei pleads, hiding her trembling hands behind her back. Her skin begins to glisten slightly as a thin layer of ice can be seen creeping up her arms, all the way to her neck and up to her face, circling it like a frozen halo. “The kids were so excited for this trip. You can’t disappoint them like that. I know you’re angry, but this is just a big misunderstanding, I promise.”

Endeavor sneers. “My son speaking to me that way is just a misunderstanding to you?”

“He’s a child, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about. He obviously didn’t mean it and you’re just overreacting—”   

“Overreacting?!”

Steam pouring out of his ears, Endeavor raises his hand and from there, it’s as though everything happens in slow motion.

Rei instinctively flinches back, her own hands rising to cover her face, causing Shouto to stumble and fall on his bum. Fuyumi gasps, Natsuo squeezes his eyes shut and Dabi is about to blast his disgusting sperm donor into oblivion, but, shockingly, Gang Orca beats him to that, grabbing Enji’s wrist from behind and stopping him before he can actually hit anyone.

“Hey.”

“Don’t touch me,” Endeavor snarls, wrenching his hand back and Gang Orca lets him go without much resistance, but remains firmly in defence mode. 

“Don’t give me a reason to.”

The two men both narrow their eyes at each other, remaining locked in a heated stare battle, until suddenly, someone whispers something sharply on the other side of the room and just like that, Endeavor snaps back to reality. Now aware that there are witnesses around, he deflates considerably, crossing his arms against his chest as though to make the hand he almost used to assault his wife less noticeable.   

Gang Orca scoffs in disgust, but doesn’t appear to have much interest in Endeavor beyond that. Instead, his gaze immediately searches for Rei, to check whether she’s alright. Rei doesn’t notice though, her eyes pinned to the floor, her body tense and shaking, with little Shouto’s concerned tugging on her pants going entirely without reaction.

Cursing under his breath and glaring daggers at Endeavor, Dabi rushes to his mother’s side. He pulls her into a one-armed embrace and she eagerly melts into him, resting her head in the nook between his shoulder and his neck and gripping his forearm hard enough to bruise. Her body is almost painfully cold, her back stiff as a board, her breathing is shaky and uneven, and he can feel her heart thumping against her ribs, but there are no tears in her eyes. Only deep, years-old resentment.   

Dabi takes a deep breath, inwardly counting down from ten in an attempt to calm himself down, lest he actually gives in to the sweet temptation of murdering his worthless father. The poor state his mother is in right now is not helping with suppressing that urge, though. Honestly, trust that man to ruin everything always. And she’s been doing so well too! He isn’t going to say ‘I told you so’, because even he’s not that much of a dick, but he did tell them so, and look what happened! But of course he’s the one being selfish and unreasonable when he refuses to play that asshole’s stupid games, he’s being unfair and immature for seeing him for who he truly is, he's the one ruining their family when all he does is try to protect them...

Another breath, another countdown. This isn’t the time. Nobody needs his temper acting up right now too.  

Fuyumi sends him a questioning look, silently asking if she should join the hug and Dabi’s petty side is tempted to refuse just because, but he squashes it – Fuyumi’s not really the one he’s mad at anyway – and nods, and it’s all the invitation his sister needs to drag herself and Natsuo over to wrap themselves over Rei’s other half. Their mother lets out a contented sigh, the closeness causing her to slowly begin to relax, some of the frost on her face melting into water and dripping down her face in a caricatural imitation of tears.  

During all of that, Endeavor simply stares. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t make any expression, doesn’t even move a finger. Just stares.

And it only serves to piss Dabi off more.

“You don’t deserve their forgiveness,” he spits, putting all the hate he can muster into his voice, and enjoys the flash of guilt on his father’s face. “I knew I was right not to believe you. Someone like you could never change.”

“Touya,” Rei stops him, her voice unexpectedly forceful. He glances down at her in bewilderment. How can she still defend him, after everything? How any of them can? Shouldn’t it be obvious by now that his ‘trying’ is nothing but a smelly bag of shit? She clearly notices his silent frustration, but only sighs, squeezing his forearm and sending him a pleading look. “Not now.”

Internally, he disagrees – now seems like a great time, in fact, every time seems like a great time to point out Endeawhore’s flaws – but he won’t make his mother feel even more miserable than she already is just so he can yell at Endeavor some more.  

“I think you should go,” Gang Orca says to Endeavor, his stern tone leaving no room for argument. “Clearly, your family isn’t quite done with their trip yet. I’m sure they can find their own way home.”

Endeavor growls, his expression twisted into something positively deranged, looking for all purposes like he’s about to argue. However, Shouto chooses this moment to sniffle – and although it’s not a loud sound, barely audible in any other circumstances, it snaps like a whip in the daunting silence of the room. It seems to catch their father off guard, forcing his attention away from Gang Orca and towards his family instead – a trembling mess of a wife, two furious sons, a frightened daughter and a crying child. He stills, something unreadable flickering on his face, and his shoulders drop.

“I apologize,” he murmurs, not meeting their eyes. Dabi doesn’t bother to hide his snort – the asshole can take his fake remorse and shove it up his stupid ass. “You’re absolutely right. I overreacted. My behaviour was unacceptable. It will not happen again. Please, forgive me.” He goes as far as to bow slightly, which seems to shock everyone except Dabi, but even so, nobody says anything. Taking it as a rejection it is, the man deflates even further and clears his throat awkwardly. “I understand that my presence is not welcome at the moment. I will… leave you to finish your tour.”

They all watch as he leaves, his back hunched over, looking for all purposes like a kicked puppy – that is, if puppies were seven feet tall and also massive assholes. Other people who witnessed the shitshow have their eyes trained on Endeavor’s walk of shame too – the father with the little girl appears especially miffed, his eyes narrowed and eyebrows twisted into a frown. Dabi wonders, for a short moment, if tomorrow’s newspapers will be filled with outrageous stories about Number Two’s shameful behaviour, but already knows they won’t. It's so easy to pay journalists off, after all. Still, it’s a nice thought. If only things could be this easy.

Eventually, Endeavor’s silhouette disappears around the corner and they breathe a collective sigh of relief. The atmosphere lightens up considerably, but the leftover tension looms over them like a smoke from a fire long extinguished. They don’t move for a long while even after the man is gone, their instincts insistent that the moment they lower their guard, he will be back to finish the job. But when one minute turns into two, and then into three, and still nothing happens, they finally allow themselves to relax. 

“Well, that was fun,” Dabi remarks dryly, but his attempt at bringing back some humour into the situation goes wholly unappreciated.

Very aware of the eyes still on her, Rei exhales heavily for the last time, squares herself up and pulls out of Dabi’s embrace, albeit not before giving his forearm one last grateful squeeze. She probably thinks the easy recovery will serve to make it seem like what just happened wasn’t a big deal – but, in reality, the way she’s able to compose herself so quickly only betrays just how much experience she has in enduring such abusive behaviour. And Gang Orca doesn’t miss the implications, if his deepening frown is anything to go by.

“I apologize for this, Mr. Orca,” Rei says as she turns to meet the hero’s very concerned gaze, attempting a strained smile and nervously tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “My husband’s temper sometimes gets the better of him. He did not mean any of it.”

Dabi has a hard time imagining how someone can ‘not mean’ trying to slap his wife and, judging by Gang Orca’s disbelieving look, so does he.  

“Oh, no, it’s me who should apologize, Mrs. Todoroki,” the man replies, his words emphasized by a vehement shaking of his head. Both the tone of his voice and the expression on his face expose his genuine distress. “I behaved improperly and caused you trouble. Please, forgive me.”

“Oh, there’s nothing to forgive.” Rei waves his apologizes away, her cheeks once again dusting pink, eyes a little wide. “In fact, I should be thanking you, for coming to my aid. You didn’t have to.”

Hearing that, Gang Orca’s eyes turn grave serious. “I could never let such behaviour slide. It’s dishonourable, to treat a woman like that, especially a beloved one. Your husband would be wise to learn that,” he says, with a dark, protective undertone.

Rei shivers, but, this time, it’s not from fear.

“Right,” she replies weakly, blissfully unaware of the ecstatic glances her children are exchanging behind her back.

Just then, a flash of uncertainty crosses the hero’s face. “Look, I understand it’s not my place,” he starts, hesitantly, reaching into his costume’s pocket and fishing (heh) out a small piece of paper, “but here’s my number.” All of them, including Shouto, who definitely doesn’t understand the importance of what’s happening, hold their breath in anticipation. “If you ever need any help with anything at all, or just want to talk to a friend, don’t hesitate to call me.”

Rendered speechless, Rei gently takes the offered paper. Dabi notices her hands shake a little.

“Oh,” she whispers. “Thank you.”

Gang Orca responds with a warm smile. “It’s no problem at all. It was an absolute pleasure to meet you, even if the circumstances were less than ideal.”

They exchange some more pleasantries, Gang Orca even ruffling Natsuo’s hair to cheer him up, before they decide it’s time to move on. And just as they are about to leave, Rei turns her head to offer Gang Orca one last smile, a smile so soft and so bittersweet that it’s like a knife stabbing into Dabi’s heart. This is what she deserves – someone caring, someone devoted, someone who would always put her first and never even dream of raising a hand at her. Someone who she could love freely, without paying for it with blood.

And instead, she’s stuck wasting away with a worthless piece of shit that’s Endeavor, who’s only ever loved himself. In that moment, Dabi promises himself something, something he’s been thinking about a lot, but has never actually done anything to achieve it. He will get his mother a happy ending.

No matter what. 

Chapter Text

It takes them another hour or so to finish sightseeing – including a lengthy and chaotic trip to the souvenir shop, which ends with all of them acquiring at least one new piece of hero merch – and by then, they are all pretty exhausted. They’re not in the mood for ice cream anymore, that much is clear, but they are even more reluctant to go back home. They know nothing good is waiting there.

Dabi shoots an anxious look at his phone, unsure whether he should call off his meeting with Keigo or not. Keigo wouldn’t mind, especially after he explained the situation – but fuck if he’s not itching to be able to rant about this shit to someone, someone who will understand, who won’t judge and whose feelings won’t be hurt because of his harsh words.

He’s just not sure letting his family go back to him alone is a good idea.

“It’s fine, Touya, just go.”

He looks up from the screen, startled by his mother’s soft voice. She looks tired – tired in a way no amount of sleep could fix – but she still manages to send him a weary smile.

“Are you sure?” he can’t help but ask, a frown twisting his face. “Because I can totally call it off. I don’t want to leave you alone with him.”

“Just go meet your boyfriend, we will be fine,” Fuyumi insists, rolling her eyes in exasperation, but Dabi ignores her. He’s still looking at his mother.

Rei continues to smile and even pats his arm encouragingly. “You worry too much. Just go. I can handle your father. I’ve been doing it for years.”

“I know,” he says, quietly. “But you shouldn’t have to.”

Rei sighs, her shoulders dropping slightly, and it’s like she’s gained at least ten years in the last few minutes. “Neither should you.”

His first instinct is to disagree, but he doesn’t think his mother would appreciate it. So instead, after shooting a quick look at his siblings, now busy with some bickering and far enough not to hear them, he adds, “I’m sorry. For what happened.”

Rei blinks, like an apology of all things was the last thing she was expecting. She hesitates slightly before replying, “It’s not your fault.”

“It is, though. I was the one who started that joke about Gang Orca and I’m sure Natsu only did what he did to impress me. And Shouto was really only repeating what he heard me say. Not to mention how I spent the entire day egging him on. I was mostly doing it to see if he would snap and show you all that his promises of changing aren’t real, but it wasn’t worth it to see you hurt. I should have known better. So I’m sorry.”

Rei watches him for a long moment, expression unreadable, and then sighs again, squeezing his arm. “It’s fine. I know you didn’t mean for any of us to get hurt. But sometimes, darling, I feel like you do things without thinking of consequences. I know it’s not fair that you even have to, I know, but please, try not to anger him so much? Not all of us are strong enough to deal with the fallout, even if you are.”

It wouldn’t be a problem if you just left him, he thinks but doesn’t say. He understands what she means, even if he doesn’t like it. It’s just so hard to hold back when the sight of his father alone is enough to get his blood boiling. He wonders if she would think differently if she knew what Endeavor did to him in another life. What he did to her and what it cost Shouto.

“I can’t promise I will stop,” he says, putting his own hand over hers and also squeezing. “But I will try to rein it in, okay?”

“That’s all I ask.” She sends him one last weak smile and then steps back, taking her hand away. “Now, don’t worry about us and go have fun with your boyfriend. But be back before it gets dark, we don’t want you getting in any more trouble.”

He rolls his eyes at her, even though it’s a completely valid concern after what he’s been through not that long ago. Still, he’s pretty confident he can take most villains, if the need arises. Although he’s not planning to stay out that long anyway.

After waving his family goodbye, he pulls out his phone and texts Keigo to confirm their meeting spot. It only takes a few seconds for his friend to respond, informing him that he should be heading to their ‘usual’ place – or rather, his and Touya’s old usual place that Keigo reluctantly introduced to him some time ago – an abandoned playground next to the apartment complex that was destroyed by a villain a few years ago. Dabi likes the place well enough, especially the privacy it offers, so he sends back a simple ‘ok’ and directs his steps towards the station. If anything, having such a naughty meeting spot proves that little Touya couldn’t have been all nice and proper after all.

***

“Finally! I’ve been waiting for hours!”

“Try ten minutes,” Dabi deadpans, levelling his dramatic friend with an unimpressed look.

Keigo, currently hanging upside down from dangerously rusty monkey bars, pouts at him adorably. Dabi flips him off and goes to seat on an even rustier swing, grimacing when his hands touch the sticky chains.

“Well, you’re still late!”

Resisting a childish urge to roll his eyes, Dabi chooses a more mature option – sarcasm. “Sorry, was a little busy dealing with my garbage father trying to hit mum again.”

“He what?!” Keigo screeches, losing his grip on the bars, his wings flapping around frantically to save him from falling on his face. Back on the ground, feathers ruffled, eyes wide and knees only a little dirty, he immediately rushes to ask, “Is she okay? Are you okay? What happened?”

Smiling against himself at the genuine concern, Dabi leans back, swinging himself lazily as he replies, “She’s fine, I guess. A little rattled, but that’s to be expected.” Then, straightening himself abruptly, he reaches for his rumpled pack of cigarettes and lights one with shaky hands, hoping that the calming effect of the nicotine might prevent him from doing something drastic. “Guess his redemption farse is over though,” he adds with a bitter scoff.

Keigo sends him a sympathetic look, hesitating only for a second before walking over to sit on the other swing beside him. The seat is half gone, with a mess of splinters sticking out of the remaining plank, but Keigo doesn’t pay it any mind before placing his butt on it and Dabi can’t quite tell whether it’s the cause of his friend’s brief grimace or if he’s simply bothered by the smoke.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Dabi exhales slowly and watches at the cloud rises high until eventually it dissipates completely. “It’s not like I ever believed him.”

“Still.” Keigo shrugs, pushing himself off the ground to sway a little. The swing lets out an ominous creak but, miraculously, doesn’t give out. “It sucks that he’s such a piece of shit. You guys don’t deserve it. Your mum especially.”

“Yeah.” Dabi doesn’t like how sour his voice sounds. It makes it seem like he cares. Like he ever expected anything else. “She doesn’t.”

“None of you do,” Keigo apparently feels the need to stress, frowning at Dabi’s tone. “You included.”

Dabi tilts his head, remembering all the fucked up things he’s done in his relatively short life, and chuckles darkly. Briefly, he wonders if Keigo would still be saying that if he knew the extent of his crimes.

(He’s reminded of the inextinguishable fury in Hawks’ eyes as his fingers gently traced along Dabi’s myriad of scars, his raptor grip almost tearing their bedsheets, and finds himself thinking the answer might be yes.)  

“You’re not my therapist. You don’t have to worry about my self-esteem,” he says wryly, very carefully keeping his gaze away from the boy beside him. He’s worried that, with his mind as messy as it is, were he to look at him right now, it might not be Keigo he sees there.

Or worse. It might be that he does see Keigo. It might be that Dabi sees him and ends up feeling disappointed.

“Believe me, I’m not worried about that,” Keigo snorts, but there’s no bite to his words. Dabi wants to be annoyed – he doesn’t need pity, he doesn’t want to be treated like he’s made of glass – but can’t force himself to. “But seriously, what happened? I thought you were going to the museum, having family time and all. Why the sudden change? I thought things were going fine?”

Fine, Dabi muses. What a funny word. What does it even mean, fine? His mother likes to say she’s fine. She said it was ‘fine’ earlier, too, when clearly things were nothing but fine, are nothing but fine. Isn’t that just a word people use to lie when you ask them uncomfortable questions? Was it you I heard screaming yesterday? Oh no, it’s fine. What are these bruises? It’s nothing, I’m fine. Is everything alright in your marriage? Of course, we’re fine! Stuff like that.  

“Oh, we went to the museum. It was kinda tacky, but my siblings were having fun. But then the old man had to make a scene about some harmless joke and Gang Orca of all people had to stop him from publicly slapping his wife.”

“No way. Gang Orca? For real?” Keigo’s jaw drops in awe for a short moment, until his brain processes the rest of the information and he jumps out of his seat. “Wait, he did that in public?!”

“Sure did. Didn’t even hesitate. A hero was standing right next to him and he still was going to do it.” He can’t quite hide the dumb wonder in his voice. Before he realizes what he’s doing, he’s laughing and it’s only slightly hysterical. “He’s so fucking sure he’s never going to get any consequences he doesn’t even bother to pretend anymore! It’s fucking disgusting.” His laughter stops abruptly and he’s left with an empty feeling in his chest. “And the worst part is that he’s right. There are never any consequences.”  

He's aware that he’s rambling – that he’s losing his temper, getting worked up over something he can’t change – but it’s freeing and it’s the only thing he can do to relieve some of the pent up anger that doesn’t include gratuitous violence. Keigo is probably the only person he can talk to about this without needing to censor himself. He knows his friend won’t judge him, won’t be scandalized by his raging hatred towards his father, won’t expect anything from him. He will listen and offer support, and not try to convince him he’s wrong.

He is also probably the only person who would hear him plan Endeavor’s murder and know he isn’t joking.

(Jury’s still out on whether he would help hide the body, though.)

Blissfully unaware of Dabi’s mushy thoughts, Keigo scrunches his brows in adorable confusion. “Gang Orca didn’t do anything?”

Dabi sighs, shoulders slumping forwards. “Well, he stopped him. And yelled at him a bit. Gave mum his number, it was actually pretty cute.” For a second, his lips twist into a small, wistful smile, but it’s gone almost immediately, stifled by harsh reality. “But he didn’t actually do anything, is the thing. For all he knows, mum goes back home and gets slapped there, ten times harder. And sure, she can call him to cry about it, but that’s not going to fix anything, is it?”

Silence rings between them for a long moment. Keigo doesn’t offer any protests or counterpoints – not that Dabi expects him to – instead, he sighs and drops back onto the half-broken seat, his face scrunched up. Something in Dabi’s gut clenches painfully – usually, he loves being right, loves having the last word, but, in this particular situation, he really wishes he was wrong.   

“But I don’t get it,” Keigo says after a while, eyes locked on a single cherry tree on the other side of the playground. His legs are dangling under him back and forwards, with only the tips of his shoes scratching the ground occasionally. “You said he told you he wanted to change. He seemed to actually be trying, too, with this trip and all. I just... why would he lie about it? Why would he inconvenience himself if he wasn’t actually planning to change? It just doesn’t make sense.”

Why, indeed. Why does that man do anything? Why does he want to be Number One so much, when it’s really just a fancy title with no actual benefits worth sacrificing everything else for? Why does he find hurting his wife so very easy? Why does loving his own children seems like such a challenge to him? There’s a lot of unanswered questions about that man. What’s one more?

“Who knows,” Dabi replies nonchalantly, as if he didn’t spend hours wondering about the same thing. More quietly, reluctantly, he adds, “I’m not even sure he’s lying. He might actually want to change, for all I know. But what does it matter what his intentions are when his actions are still the same?”

“Don’t take it the wrong way...”

“You know I hate when you say that.”

Keigo chuckles. “I know. But hear me out, okay?”

Dabi makes a noncommittal sound.

Before he begins, Keigo takes a deep breath. “I do think intentions matter. I’m not excusing what your dad did and I’m not saying you should tolerate it, so don’t get mad at me! I’m just saying that there’s a difference between him lying to you about being remorseful and him being sincere but fucking up. You know? Like, changing the way he was acting so completely basically overnight is bound to be hard.”

“Oh yeah, being a decent person who doesn’t beat his wife. What a challenge,” Dabi deadpans.

Keigo swats him on his shoulder. “Come on, you know what I mean. Changing habits is difficult. He messed up and you guys don’t have to forgive him, or be patient with him while he figures his shit out, or whatever, it’s not your responsibility. But if you want to give him a chance... well, what did he do after? Did he apologize?”

“He did,” Dabi admits, grudgingly.  

“Has he ever apologized before? About stuff like that?”

“No.” Dabi frowns, not liking where he thinks Keigo is going with this. “But it was the first time it happened in public. Of course he had to apologize. He was just trying to save face.”

“Maybe,” Keigo agrees easily. Dabi sends him an ugly look, which only makes his friend smile. “I told you, I’m not justifying him or anything. Just offering some perspective. You said your family is really hopeful about him. And I’m just saying it might not be a completely doomed hope.” He pauses for a moment, expression turning a bit more serious, almost conflicted. “You know... when this whole thing with my dad happened... my mum, well, she wasn’t in the best shape. You said your Hawks’ mother sold him to the Commission. Mine didn’t. But that didn’t mean she was a good mother, not for a long time.”

“Oh?” Dabi remarks, carefully disinterested. He has to admit, he’s been curious about this Keigo’s family history. But the fact that he seems to have a positive relationship with his mother right now makes it quite obvious the story isn’t going to support Dabi’s stance, which sucks, but he kinda wants to hear it anyway.

“I didn’t realize it until much later, but looking back, it was obvious that everyone thought she was a drug addict,” Keigo starts, much more blunt than Dabi would expect. “She wasn’t. Although, sometimes I feel like my father was a much worse addiction for her than heroin could ever be. He was everything to her and, after he was gone, she didn’t know what to do. With me or with herself.” He takes a shaky breath. “It was only after I saved those people that something changed. Before, it was like I wasn’t there at all. She... she never hurt me directly,” he insists, but the tone of his voice makes it clear that she didn’t have to hit him for it to leave a permanent mark, “but she never stopped him from hurting me either. And even without him, she just kind of pretended I didn’t exist. I wasn’t her son, more like... an annoying pet that she sometimes remembered to feed.”

“If this is supposed to make me like your mother, you’re not doing a good job.”

“Shh,” Keigo chastises, but Dabi can see a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Just let me finish, would you?”

Dabi raises his hands in surrender and dutifully shuts up.

“I know it’s not an excuse, but she was pretty fucked up mentally. She told me before that it was really hard for her to feel any emotions at all and that’s why she clutched so desperately to my father – because he was the only one who could make her feel something. At least, until she got that call.”

“About your wannabe hero stunt?”

“Yeah.” Keigo chuckles. “I’m sure it’s going to be shocking to hear, but the Commission guys aren’t the best at tact. When they called her about it, they very bluntly explained that I jumped in front of a speeding car to save some people, but, somehow, they forgot to mention that I was perfectly fine. So, for this short moment, she was left thinking I was dead. And she told me that was the moment she realized that she did care about me and how bad of a mother she has been to me.”

“Should I be clapping yet...?” Dabi cocks an eyebrow, but shuts up again when Keigo sends him a glare.

“The point I’m trying to make is that my mother was a bad person. She hurt me, even if she didn’t mean to. And it didn’t stop with that one realization. She apologized to me, and promised she would do better, and then she was pulled back by old habits, and suddenly we were one step forward two steps back. But I wanted to give her a chance, each and every time. I’m sure I gave her more chances than she ever deserved. Which, I know you probably think is stupid, but I believed she could change, in the end. She went to therapy, she got medicated, managed to find a job. The occasional mishaps were disheartening, but they happened less and less. And I’m never going to forget what she did to me, what she let him do to me. I couldn’t even if I wanted to. But I forgave her for it. She never asked me to, but I did.” Keigo meets Dabi’s eyes unflinchingly and the intensity of his gaze nearly makes Dabi shiver. “And I don’t regret it. She’s a great mum now. She’s changed. I love her and I can’t imagine my life without her. But I wouldn’t have her now if I had given up on her when she was struggling to free herself of those toxic habits.”

Dabi opens his mouth to say something, his face already twisting into a frown, but Keigo cuts him off swiftly.

“I know it’s not the same. I told you, I’m not trying to convince you to give Endeavor another chance or anything. Your father was much more of an abuser to you than my mother ever was to me. And, like, I don’t know what I would do if my father suddenly came back and asked for forgiveness. Probably kicked him in the face and called the police.” He chuckles again, although it’s a little wistful. “Like I said, I just wanted to give you some perspective, that’s all. That maybe you don’t have to give up on him just yet, if you don’t want to.”

“I do want to,” Dabi replies, and if it’s a little bit too fast, well, that’s nobody’s business. “I already did. My family just haven’t caught up yet.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

Keigo hums. “So you honestly think he can’t change?” he asks, and it’s only because there’s nothing but honest curiosity in his tone that Dabi even considers the question.       

And consider it he does.

He thinks of all that he’s been through because of that man – every hour of gruelling training, every time he’s been called weak and worthless, every bruise and every scar, the empty look in his mother’s eyes as she was being taken away, the jagged, red scar on Shouto’s face, all the sleepless nights he’s spent crying in his siblings’ arms, demanding to know why he was even born, the haunting quiet of the house, the screaming, the first time he saw a burn on Shouto’s arm and knew from experience it was finger shaped, the sickening smell of melting flesh, the fiery agony, the tug of cold staples on his skin.

(He thinks of Shouto watching cartoons instead of training, of Endeavor’s distress after their altercation with the villain, of him getting them tickets to the museum – as awful as that ended up – of the few family dinners filled with jokes and laughter instead of terrified silence.)  

He swallows thickly.

“I don’t know.”

“Oh?”

“It’s just… complicated. The Endeavor I grew up with? The one from my world? The things he’s done... They’re unforgivable,” Dabi starts, his fists clenched around the swing chains. “And, logically, I know this Endeavor hasn’t done any of it yet, so it’s not fair of me to judge him for them, but I just can’t separate them in my head, because he’s still the same person, you know? If I was still the Touya of your world, none of this change of heart thing would be happening and the future would still probably go exactly the same way, so does it really matter if he technically hasn’t done it yet?”

“You don’t know that,” Keigo says, but even he doesn’t sound convinced.

“I didn’t always hate him,” he confesses, quietly, and it hurts to admit out loud, but he needs Keigo to understand. “It was short-lived, but I remember when we used to be happy. He was actually a decent father at first, if you can believe it. There was a time when he was my favourite person in the entire world. I would have done anything to make him happy.” He pauses, years and years of bitterness filling his chest with bile. “But his greed grew and it changed him, and nothing I did after that was ever enough. He tossed me aside like a used rag and turned our home into a house of horrors, and I still loved him, like a stupid child I was. And then...” He takes a shaky breath, the phantom feeling of fire crawling through his arms and up, up, up. “Then he killed me. And he still didn’t care.” He laughs humourlessly, then raises his head to look Keigo in the eyes and when he finishes, his voice is hard like a steel, “So no, I don’t believe he can change. He can shove his promises up his ass, for all I care.”

For a moment, it seems like Keigo isn’t going to answer. Like he might agree with Dabi and let it go. But after chewing on his lip for a while and a lot of thoughtful humming, the boy straightens his back and lets out a long exhale.

“So. This is seriously fucked up,” he says and Dabi lets out a snort. That’s one way to put it. “But... you said it yourself. That was the Endeavor from your old world. Is there really no chance that this one might be different?”

Dabi grits his teeth. “Why are you so bent on defending him?”

“I’m not defending him. I’m trying to be the voice of reason here, because with how emotional this is for you, I don’t think you can.” His forehead scrunches adorably. “But you want me to be honest about what I think? I think you should take your family and leave, and never come back. I think Endeavor is an abusive piece of shit and doesn’t deserve any of you, whether he changes or not. I think his redemption is his responsibility and if he really wants to become a better person, he should do it on his own, without expecting anything from you in return. That’s what I think.”

This... is not at all what Dabi is expecting. He watches his friend with wide eyes, the whiplash rendering him speechless.

Keigo chuckles darkly. “What? You think I have any pity left for him? You’re forgetting I’ve been friends with Touya for a long time before you came here. I’ve seen him bruised, and burned, and miserable. I’ve seen him cry and try to destroy himself because of your father way too many times. All I ever wanted for him was to get away.” He shrugs. “I don’t see why it should be any different for you.”

“So why play the devil’s advocate?” Dabi asks, more than a little confused. “Why tell me about your mother?”

Keigo sighs. “Because you said your family doesn’t see it that way. You said they wanted to give him a chance and I guess that’s their right. I was just trying to make you think about it to see if there was any possibility of this working out. You know, before I proposed murder.”

“Careful, I might not take that as a joke,” Dabi can’t help but tease.

Keigo flashes him a sharp smile. “Who said I was joking?”

A shiver goes down Dabi’s spine and he’s not sure if it’s from fear or something else. Since he’s trying really hard not to be a creep, he ends up assuming it must be fear. A thought appears in his head, not for the first time, that Hawks would make a truly scary villain.

“So?” Keigo prompts after Dabi stays silent for too long. “Are you sure this Endeavor is a lost cause?”

Dabi shrugs, staring at his chapped fingernails. “Probably.”

“That’s not a yes.”

“It’s almost a yes.”

“Well, then,” Keigo hums, looking like he’s thinking very hard about something, “I think the only thing you can do right now is go and talk to him.”

“What?” Dabi blinks, caught off guard. How is talking going to solve anything?  

Keigo doesn’t appear put off by Dabi’s reaction, determined to say what’s on his mind. “I just mean, what you need is clarity. I think you should go to him and, like, actually make him talk. Have you ever had a real conversation with him after he said he wanted to change? Not a fight, not a screaming match, just a normal talk.”

“I’m not sure he’s capable of that,” Dabi says dryly.

“Then make him,” Keigo says, looking at him oh so seriously. “I’m not saying that talking will solve your problems. But I think you need some sort of closure from him? I’m not sure closure is a right word here, but you know what I mean. It can’t be ‘probably’, it has to be a ‘yes’ or a ‘no’. You need to talk to him and make a decision. You can’t keep living like this, in this weird limbo, with him being a loving dad one day and an abusive asshole the next one. If he truly wants to change and is capable of doing so, then he needs to prove it and commit to it. And I mean actually commit, without messing up every other day. And if he doesn’t want to or can’t, then you stop whining about it and do whatever it takes to get you and your family away from him as soon as possible, even if it means going against their wishes. The point is, you decide something. And you do that by making him talk.”  

Dabi hates that Keigo’s words make a lot of sense. Especially because he doesn’t really believe Endeavor is capable of holding a civilized conversation. He can’t even say some bullshit like ‘well, it won’t hurt to try’ because, knowing Endeavor, it very much could. Besides, he’s not sure there’s anything his father could say that would actually sway him anyway. His mind is pretty much made up about this. He just hasn’t been acting on this conviction the way he should have.

The smart thing to do would be to take out his phone right now and start making some calls.  Get Aizawa on board, ask him to find them the best lawyer he can, maybe enlist Gang Orca too, if his earlier promises were anything to go by. Steal as much money as possible before Endeavor realizes what’s happening and freezes his accounts. Text his family, tell them to start packing, get them out of there this very night. It would be hard, but not impossible. They could finally be free.

But his sister’s pleading eyes won’t stop plaguing his mind. He realizes with a touch of dismay that he truly is a weak man. He curses the day he stopped being an only child.

He sighs. He guesses he can give the asshole one last chance to plead his case, even if only as a formality.

***

That benevolent conviction flies out of his head immediately once he arrives back home only to be met with a stiflingly heavy atmosphere. Heavier than it has been in a long time, heavy like it used to be during his real childhood when one bad move could mean three new scars.

He loathes it.

“Mum?” he asks into the overbearing silence and has to berate himself inwardly for his voice being so quiet when all he wants to do is scream. It’s a habit that’s hard to break, the deep-rooted instinct to be as unnoticeable as possible as to not catch his father’s attention, to not give him a reason to get even more mad.

This fear – a survival tactic, something that has been ingrained into his core because he was too weak to do anything else – makes him sick. The silent house, the grave air surrounding every corner of every room, the anxious feeling of walking on glass – all of this brings him back to the past, the real past, when most days he could barely force himself to leave the illusion of safety his room offered, if only it meant he wouldn’t have to face Endeavor’s wrath.

“Mum?” he repeats, purposefully louder, more yelling than talking.

Fuck Endeavor and fuck the way he conditioned them all to cower in fear before him. Dabi is done tolerating his bullshit. This has been going on for far too long already. It needs to end, now, before the damage becomes unfixable.  

“Mum, are you here?” He frowns when none of his calls are met with a response, a chill of trepidation rooting itself at the bottom of his spine. Could something have happened in the short time he was gone?

Slowly, trying not to leap to any conclusions just yet, he makes his way over to the kitchen. If she’s anywhere in the house, it’s the most likely of places.

When Rei is stressed, one of her coping mechanisms has always been baking. Dabi thinks it’s something he and Fuyumi inherited from her – he almost smiles while remembering all the times he made cookies for the League after a failed mission or randomly woken up in the middle of the night after a particularly bad nightmare and spent hours preparing as many cakes as their poor grocery stock would allow.                 

He lets out a sigh of relief when he sees her, safe and sound, just about to put the plate of cookies into the over. She’s humming something quietly, a melody that’s familiar and warm – an old lullaby, maybe? – with her face showing no outright signs of distress, yet her shoulders are tense and her hands are clutched a little too tightly on the tray she’s holding. She’s good at hiding it – no wonder, with so many years of practice – but it’s still obvious she’s shaken by the events of today.

“Hey, mum?” This time he’s quiet for a very different reason. She’s not at her most broken, not yet, desperately holding on to the normalcy as hard as she can, but in those few moments of particular vulnerability, she kind of reminds him of a wild animal, easy to spook if you’re not careful with her. Unpredictable.

She still jumps in surprise at hearing his voice, even though he’s been standing there for a while now. Yet it seems she didn’t notice him until he spoke, so lost in her own mind. It’s so similar to that time he came back with a tattoo he’s almost having a déjà vu.

Only this time she’s not crying nor is she breaking down. She turns around fully, smiling at him as though nothing is wrong, warm and loving, with almost no trace of hopelessness that seems to accompany her most of the time these days – the only thing betraying her being her glistening, red-rimmed eyes.

“Oh, Touya, you’re back already?” she sounds surprised, as if she didn’t have to basically force him to let them go back alone. After double checking the temperature in the over, she walks over to the fridge from where she takes out more dough. “I thought you and Keigo had plans tonight?”

“We decided to postpone,” he explains, not going into details. Of course she will know why they decided that, but he doesn’t need to make her feel guilty by voicing it. He takes a look around, listening to catch any sounds, and after finding nothing, carefully asks, “Where’s everyone?”

“Fuyumi went out with some friend,” Rei says lightly, with no undertone suggesting that she might be aware of who this ‘friend’ most likely is. “Natsu and Shouto are in their rooms, I believe.”

He nods absentmindedly and when all that follows is silence, he prompts carefully, “And what about him?”

Rei pauses her kneading, her whole body stilling for a moment. When she speaks though, her voice is even. “As far as I know, he’s still hiding in his office.”

He’s tempted to scream ‘I told you so’, not only at her but at all of them, because he did, didn’t he? He warned them all that this change of heart is nothing more than a pretty illusion, that men like Enji don’t change and that by believing in him, by allowing themselves to have hope, they were only going to get hurt.

But he’s not that cruel. Not to his family. Not when, were he in their places, he probably would have wanted to believe him too.

“Okay.”

He’s about to direct his steps to the staircase, his determination to confront his father unchanged – probably even larger now – when her sharp voice stops him.

“Don’t.” Her fists are clenched, so hard her knuckles turn white. The expression on her previously calm face is half-demanding half-pleading. “Just… don’t.”

He sighs, his heart squeezing painfully at having to deny her. The way she stares at him, so lost and scared, and tired, most of all, is almost enough to waver his confidence. But he knows he can’t let them stay in this weird kind of limbo they’re in right now, that he needs to finally act before it’s too late. He hates seeing her hurt and he hates being the reason for it even more. He knows she detests it when he fights with his father, not only because it might hurt him but also because it can easily backfire on her and his siblings. However, this time, Dabi is not planning on fighting – they either reach some acceptable compromise (unlikely) or Dabi is getting his family out of here.

“I need to talk to him,” he explains, gently, trying to convey with his face how serious he is about this, how this time he’s not looking for a childish squabble. “We can’t keep living like this, mum. You know this.”

“You promised,” she whispers, something akin to betrayal on her face and it breaks his heart a little. He knows he’s hurting her right now and he hates it, but he likes to think it’s justified if it means she won’t be hurt even worse in the future. “Just a few hours ago, you promised me. So why are you doing this? Why can’t you leave it alone?”

“I swear I just want to talk,” he insists, striving to remain calm and mature. “No arguing, no taunting. Just an honest conversation. I promise.”

Not that he believes Enji can carry one, but at least Dabi won’t be the one turning it into an argument. That much he can promise her.

“You’re only going to make him angrier. That’s all you ever do,” she spats suddenly, bitterness colouring her tone. She frowns, raising her hands in frustration and glaring at him. He almost flinches at the steely cold in her eyes. “Why can’t you just stay quiet for once?”

For some reason, it feels as if she slapped him. He stares at her in shock, her words cutting into him painfully, even more so because he knows she’s right. So far he hasn’t been doing a very good job at this whole ‘fixing the past’ thing, has he? He’s perfectly aware of it, but hearing her talk to him like that, saying it like it’s his fault they’re all stuck with this shitty asshole… It makes the fire under his skin burn.

“Because staying quiet worked so well for you, huh?” he scoffs, his eyes narrowing as more sharp words push onto his tongue. “It’s not my fault you can’t protect your children properly.”

He regrets the words even before he finishes talking, but he doesn’t take them back. They may be cruel, but in some way they’re also true. She could have tried something, anything, to get them out of there the moment Enji first raised a hand at one of them, but she didn’t. She taught them to stay quiet, not to provoke him, to do what he says so he wouldn’t get mad – and it never worked anyway because no matter what they did they would never be good enough for him and there would always be something to punish them for.

(Dabi doesn’t really blame her. He knows how hard her situation is. He knows it’s all Endeavor’s fault. He knows getting away would have been insanely difficult.

But she could have at least tried.)

The silence between them stretches uncomfortably. Rei’s body is now trembling, her eyes watering dangerously, and yet, her face remains cold like a stone as she stares him down. Dabi’s heartbeat is so frantic it must be audible in the quiet of the room, his muscles tense as though bracing for a blow, and he needs to bite his lips to prevent himself from apologising – or maybe saying something even more awful.

“You won’t talk to me that way,” she eventually says, retracting her gaze. Her breath hitches but her voice stays steady. “I am your mother. You have no right to say that, you—you have no idea what I’ve done to protect you—”

“Have you? Then why do we keep getting hurt?”

Her head shoots up at that, her mouth open but with no sound coming out as she gapes at him with wide eyes.

Dabi sighs, exhausted and heavy with guilt. This isn’t the tough conversation he’s supposed to be having tonight.

“I really need to talk to him,” he says eventually, keeping his voice neutral, already backing away from the kitchen. As a second thought, just before he leaves, he mumbles a very quiet, “I’m sorry.”

He’s not sure he wants her to hear it anyway.   

***

Standing in front of Endeavor’s office feels a lot like getting ready for a math test.

It’s making him fidget nervously, even though he keeps telling himself he doesn’t care what the result is going to be. He’s expecting it will undoubtedly be unpleasant, maybe even end up making someone cry. It puts an annoying lump in his throat, since he’s painfully aware that the result of what happens inside might decide about his entire future.

And, maybe most importantly, Dabi is almost sure that no matter what he does in there, he’s going to fail anyway.

But, just like with the damned test, he’s resolved to at least try.

He considers knocking for exactly three seconds before discarding the idea as ridiculous. That man doesn’t deserve that level of respect from him, not after everything. If he’s doing something embarrassing in there, it’s even better for Dabi – at least he will have something to laugh about when the rest inevitably blows up in his face.

Taking a deep breath, he grabs the handle and bursts inside with confidence of someone who has every right to be there. There’s a determined expression on his face, the demand to talk on the tip of his tongue, but all of that freezes the moment he lays his eyes on his father. He’s been expecting a lot of different things, but this is something he didn’t account for.

Endeavor is… crying?

No, that’s not right. There are no sounds coming from him, no sobs or hitched breaths. He’s sitting in his chair, slumped over his desk, with his face hidden in his hands, the textbook definition of defeated – a picture of his father he has never seen before. The room is dark, only illuminated by a small lamp sitting in the corner, but it’s enough for Dabi to notice how… small his father looks like this.

It’s baffling enough to give him a pause. Blinking in surprise, Dabi feels lost for words. This isn’t the man he was expecting to find. The Endeavor in his mind is supposed to be angry – furious about getting humiliated publicly, seething about how ungrateful they all are, busy plotting revenge. Not… this. Whatever this is.

Is it possible that his father is feeling… guilty?

“Did you come here to yell at me?” Endeavor’s hoarse voice startles him, enough to make him jump. Normally, these words would be mocking, challenging – but now they just sound resigned, maybe even accepting.

Ignoring the unpleasant uneasiness in his gut, Dabi lets the door close behind him and takes a few steps forwards so he’s standing right in front of his father’s desk. He can feel himself frown in confusion, suspicious bells ringing in his mind, warning him that this must be some sort of a trick. Another manipulation tactic, something to evoke misplaced pity.  

“I think Gang Orca has already said everything that had to be said,” Dabi answers carefully, crossing his arms over his chest. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

Endeavor sighs, his shoulders slumping even more. “I know what you must be thinking. You’re thinking you were right. That I wasn’t honest in my attempt at change or that I simply can’t change.” He exhales heavily, his voice getting quieter. “Maybe you were right. Maybe I can’t change. But I truly was trying. I stopped Shouto’s training, I got you those tickets—”

“Bullshit,” Dabi spits out, his muscles spasming in rage. He knows he shouldn’t, he wasn’t going to be confrontational, but how can he not be? It’s almost comforting. Not feeling angry around the old man was really making him unsettled. “You talk about redemption, but you aren’t ready to suffer any consequences. You made our life hell for years and you think one trip to the museum can make up for that?” He laughs but it isn’t a nice laugh. “You’re not trying to change. Trying to change would require knowing what you were doing wrong. But you don’t know that, do you?”

“I know I have been harsh on you, perhaps harsher than I should—”

“Perhaps? Do you even hear yourself when you talk?” Dabi can’t believe the audacity of this man. “I still have scars from your training, scars that will be there for the rest of my life. Fuyumi and Natsuo barely know who you are! Do you have any idea how damaging that is? Being discarded by your own father like you’re nothing but trash, all because your magical ability isn’t as strong as he would like? And Shouto! Shouto is six and he has never had a friend in his life. He has more bruises on his body than actual skin, for fuck’s sake! And let’s not even talk about mum!”

Endeavor flinches after every accusation, as if he somehow wasn’t aware of all that, but Dabi has no pity for him. This is the man who hurt everyone who has ever dared to love him. He brought it on himself, no matter what ‘good intentions’ he might have had.

“All you ever cared about is some stupid useless ranking.” Dabi grits his teeth, breathing slowly to reign in the fire burning in his veins. “You were never good enough to get there yourself so you decided to abuse your family until one of us could fulfil your dream. All we have ever been to you is tools. You’ve never cared about us, about who we are, what we want – all you care about is how you can use us.”

Finally, Endeavor raises his head and looks at him. Dabi is taken-aback by how gaunt his face is, how dark are the circles under his eyes, and how there’s something that looks suspiciously like tear tracks on his cheeks.

“It’s not true. You are right that I wanted you to chase my dream, I’m not going to deny that. I did not treat you like a father should, I get it now, but you cannot say I do not care about you. Of course I do, you are my children. I—I love you,” he says the last words as if he has to choke them out forcefully, as if the action of saying them out loud physically hurts him.

Dabi sneers. “You love us? Really? That’s why whenever I disagree with you I end up with new burns and bruises? That’s why I had to blackmail you into letting me take my own boyfriend as my date to your stupid party? That’s why mother spends her nights sobbing downstairs, scared of her own children because they look like you?”

“Touya.” His father’s face twists into a lost expression, his mouth half-open, like he wants to defend himself but can’t find anything he could disagree with. “I—”

“What’s Fuyumi’s favourite colour?” Dabi interrupts him harshly, not interested in hearing any of his pathetic excuses. “What team does Natsuo play for? Which goodnight story Shouto likes most?”

“I—,” he cuts himself off, expression twisting as frustration at being unable to answer overwhelms him. “I do not know,” he admits, lowering his head in defeat.

“Because you don’t care,” Dabi snaps. “Because you’re not our father. You’re just a man who we have to live with until we can move out.”

This makes Endeavor flinch again, his head shaking frantically. “No. No, you’re wrong. I care. I do. I will learn all those things. I will get to know you. I will not—I will not hurt you anymore. Nothing like today will ever happen again. I promise.”

“Oh yes, but you said that before, didn’t you? And what happened?” Enji turns his head away guiltily. Dabi sighs, some of his anger melting into exasperation. “You still don’t get it. You want us to forgive you? You want to try to be a good father? Make us a happy little family, go to museums together, have us smile instead of flinch when you walk into the room, all that stuff? Great, nice goal. But did you truly do anything to earn this forgiveness? You say you’ve been ‘trying to change’ these last few weeks, but all I saw was the same asshole hiding away for days so we would forget how awful he is. This isn’t redemption. Do you honestly think saying you’re sorry is enough after everything you put us through?”

Endeavor is silent – of course he is, there’s really nothing he can say to defend himself, nothing he can argue with. Dabi should feel victorious about this, perhaps, about ‘winning’ their argument, but considering what they’re talking about, it doesn’t feel like winning at all.  

Eventually, Endeavor clears his throat. “So what else do you want me to do then? If apologizing isn’t enough?”

Dabi doesn’t hesitate. “Quit being a hero.”

The absolutely gobsmacked expression on Enji’s face almost makes him snort.

“What? Touya, I—I  admit that I was not a good father. But even you must see that I have been a great hero? I’m saving lives every day, you cannot deny that. What will it change, that I leave? It will not erase the past. Do you really just want to punish me?”

“Of course I do,” Dabi spits venomously, glaring at him with all the hatred he can muster. Endeavor winces again. “But it’s not just that,” he continues, reigning in his personal feelings. “You still don’t see it, do you? You talk and talk how you understood your mistakes and how you want to change, but it’s all bullshit. “

“It is not.”

“I don’t believe you,” Dabi says bluntly. “People say they’re going to change all the time. I’ve seen this. They say they will do better, they try for a few months, it gets hard and then they go back to how they used to be. You know why? Because most people are like you – they think they realize their mistakes. They realize they’ve been doing bad things, that they’ve been hurting others and that it’s wrong. They’re so proud of themselves too, like it’s so fucking hard to grasp that beating up your wife and your children is a shitty thing to do.”

“Now, that is—”

“And they address the actions, sure, they stop for a while,” he pushes on, ignoring his father’s indignance. “It’s going good. But in the end they always come back to being assholes. Why? Because they don’t address the cause. If someone is an alcoholic and they decide that yeah, getting wasted everyday ruins my life, then in most cases they stop drinking. At first. But if they never think about what made them drink in the first place, then this problem will continue to haunt them and they will go back to drinking. It’s the same with you. Yes, now you see that abusing your family is bad, congratulations, and you want to stop, allegedly, but if you don’t eliminate the cause of that abuse – your stupid obsession with being the best hero – then who knows if two weeks from now you won’t be back to your old thinking? That your brain won’t go ‘well, yes, hitting them is bad, but is it really that bad if it makes them better heroes’? I think that’s exactly what’s going to happen. Hell, it already happened!”

By the end of his tirade, Dabi is a little lost for breath. He’s also buzzling with barely restrained rage, but even more so with satisfaction. He’s been waiting to tell him that for a very long time. It’s almost freeing, in a way yelling at his father has never quite been before.

He lets the silence stretch between them for a moment before he finally adds, “That’s why you should stop being a hero. Not because I’m being petty.”

“It is a lot to ask,” the man says finally, his face unreadable. It’s impossible to tell if he understood anything of Dabi’s speech. Knowing him, probably not.

“And you think you’re not asking a lot of us?” Dabi challenges. “Asking for forgiveness, after all you did to us?”

Endeavor shifts in his seat, eyebrows pinched. “Is there anything else that could satisfy you other than that?”

“Nothing will ever satisfy me,” Dabi snaps, enjoying the way his words make the old man shrink onto himself. He savours it for a few seconds, then takes a deep breath and reminds himself what he’s truly here for. “But… it would make your case easier to believe if you let mum divorce you.”

Enji blinks, as if that’s the last request he would expect. “What? Why?”

“What do you mean ‘why’? You don’t love her. She certainly doesn’t love you. You forced her to marry you.” Yet another thing the man seems not to see a problem with, unsurprisingly. “She hates living here. She can barely look at you. She’s trapped here, even though you have no need for her anymore. She deserves better than that. She’s still young, she could find someone else, someone who will actually love her, who will treat her right. Why would you keep her here? Just for appearances?”

The man is quiet for a moment, but Dabi waits patiently. This is a question he really wants to hear an answer to.

When he speaks, it’s the exact kind of crap Dabi is expecting, “She will want to take you with her.”

“And?” Dabi cocks an unimpressed eyebrow. “She’s the one who raised us. She’s the one who cares.”

Endeavor makes a frustrated noise, his face twisting into a grimace. “But how do I know you will not just cut ties with me as soon as you move out?”

“You don’t.” Dabi shrugs. “But what’s your plan? You’re going to make us all stay here and force us to forgive you? You think that’s what redemption is? That you’re being a good person by keeping her here against her will?”

“She can leave if she wants to,” Endeavor mumbles under his breath, looking more like a petulant child than anything else.

Dabi narrows his eyes. “You know she won’t. She would never leave us alone with you.”

Endeavor lets out a disgruntled growl. “I cannot have you all leave before I proved I can change!”

“This isn’t how changing works!” Dabi pinches his nose – something he undoubtedly picked up from Eraser, that fucker – and counts to ten in his mind to calm himself down. It wouldn’t do to burn down the house now when his father is finally seeming to listen. “Look, I hate to say this, but it’s not as bad as you think. As much as I don’t understand why, Fuyumi loves you. She wants to have a relationship with you. Natsuo doesn’t know you, but I know he wants to, even if he’s scared. Shouto… well, he’s going to be more reluctant, but he’s still a little child. If you treat him like a father should from now on, he will learn to love you.”

Not gonna lie, saying these things make him sick, even if they’re all mostly true. What he actually wants is Endeavor out of their lives for good, but this isn’t about him. If, and it’s a big if, this Endeavor truly is capable of change, then Dabi won’t stop him. He won’t rob his siblings of a chance to have a father.  

Endeavor seems a little more reassured by that, if the slight relaxing of his muscles is anything to go by. However, there’s still something he clearly wants to say. It’s probably the first time Dabi sees him hesitate this much before speaking.

“And what about you?”

Dabi lets the silence speak for him.

“I see.” Something almost like hurt flashes in the man’s eyes, but Dabi blames it on the trick of the light. “I suppose I get your point. But I am still not convinced. How can I show you that I changed if you are not here to see it?”

Dabi closes his eyes. This is going better than he thought it would, really. And he has thought about this when he was getting ready for this conversation. He has made his decision and he’s adamant to see it through. Even so, it’s still incredibly hard to push the words out of his mouth.

“How about that? You let mum go. She takes Fuyumi, Natsu and Shouto with her. And I stay here with you.”

As expected, Endeavor gapes at him in shock.

“What?”

“With me here, they won’t be able to cut you out completely,” Dabi explains, refusing to make eye contact with the man. The words taste ashy on his tongue, but he forces himself to push them out. “They will want to visit. You will have an excuse to invite them to family dinners and they will have a reason to come. That should satisfy you.”

“Why would you do that? I thought that you hated me?”

“I do.” Dabi raises his chin. “But I love them more. I want them out of here, so they don’t have to live in this house where all they ever knew is fear and pain. I want mum to be happy somewhere far away from you. If I have to sacrifice my own comfort for that, then I will. That’s the least I can do.”

Even if it’s going to hurt to be here, in this world where he didn’t lose everything yet, and not be able to see his siblings every day. Even if he’s going to have to suffer through his father’s presence for at least another three years. He will gladly take all of that if it means Endeavor will set the rest of his family free.  

He notices with a kind of vindictive satisfaction that his father is looking at him as though seeing him for the first time.

“I will… think about it,” he says eventually and it isn’t a yes Dabi has been hoping for but it isn’t a no either. “I will be honest with you – I do not think I can quit being a hero just yet. I will not force any of you to follow in my footsteps anymore, that I can promise. But this job is my whole life. I cannot just quit.”

Dabi opens his mouth to retort, but this time it’s Endeavor who cuts him off.

“But,” he adds, staring at him with something akin to respect, “I will talk to your mother. We will see what we can decide on.”

This doesn’t feel like enough. It’s more than Dabi expected to get, sure, but a vague promise of ‘I will think about it’ isn’t much different from all the other promises his father’s broken before. Not to mention there’s still so much Dabi wants to scream in his face, make him see how deep the wounds he inflicted go, how much they can fester through the years and in turn kill everything good about a person.

But the talk is over. He should just go before Endeavor changes his mind.

He gives an almost unnoticeable nod, shoots the man one last derisive glance, and turns around to leave, despite every self-preservation instinct in his brain screaming at him that showing the enemy his back is an awful idea. He doesn’t get to go far though.   

“Touya, wait,” Endeavor’s voice stops him just as he’s about to reach for the doorknob. He’s tempted to ignore the call, to walk out of the room as if he didn’t hear it, but some sort of morbid curiosity keeps him in place. He turns to face him again, but doesn’t say anything, instead cocking one eyebrow as a sign that he’s listening. “I just… I do not understand.”

“You don’t understand a lot of things,” is all Dabi can answer with because he honestly has no idea what this is supposed to be about.

“I know that I hurt you, in many ways.” There’s a frown on Endeavor’s face, an almost lost kind of expression that Dabi wishes he could burn away. “I have always been the harshest on you. I treated you worse than your siblings – I admit, mostly because you were the only one to fight back. I think I’ve been doing this because, deep down, I knew you were the proof of my weakness. Of my failure. I have called you weak too many times to count, but I see now how strong you really are, Touya. It’s really me that was the weak one all along.”

“Shut up.” Dabi squeezes his eyes shut, shaking his head a bit frantically. “Just shut up. I don’t want to hear this.”

“I understand why you hate me. You have every right to do so,” the man keeps going, deaf to Dabi’s pleas – nothing new here. Dabi’s brain is yelling at him to walk away, to leave before he does something reckless – he really couldn’t care less for his father’s pathetic excuses, he’s only here to get things done – but, in spite of all that, his legs remain rooted in place, refusing to move. “You are so different from me, and yet so similar. You never let anyone tell you what to do. Do not misunderstand me, I still cannot condone a lot of choices you make in your life.” He grimaces here and Dabi doesn’t have to be a mind reader to know which ‘choices’ his father is referring to. “But, I myself never listened to anyone about anything either, when I was your age. I suppose I forgot about that. I know I have rarely said that before, but I truly am proud of the man you’ve become, son.”

“Is there a point to this?” Dabi grits out, somehow managing not to scream, his body rigid and trembling from how much strength it takes to stop himself from exploding.

How dare he? How dare this man say all these things as if he hadn’t threatened to hit him for wanting to wear a dress not a few hours ago? How can he say this with a straight face, knowing how he’s been treating him his whole life literally until this very moment? Does he really expect Dabi to believe him?

“I just want to know why,“ Endeavor says, with an odd tint of desperation in his gruff voice. “Why are you so adamant that I am lying about changing? Why are you so convinced you could never forgive me? Did I really hurt you so much more than your siblings?”

For a second, Dabi considers telling him the truth. Shouting it in his face until he fully realizes just how badly he fucked up, how much damage he caused, how many lives he destroyed. Or he could tell him about every single despicable thing he did to get his revenge, about the years he spent homeless and hurt, about the scars that could never disappear, and the hatred that burns brighter than any flames he could ever produce, yell it at him until Endeavor sees for himself what he did and why Dabi can never forgive him. He almost wants to see the horror that would twist his father’s face, craves being the witness to the moment he’s hit with a realization that he’s created a monster.

He doesn’t because, in the end, it wouldn’t really change anything.

(This Endeavor hasn’t done any of that yet, after all.)

“I don’t have to explain myself to you,” he says instead, his voice so, so cold. He can’t even really enjoy the flash of frustration crossing his father’s face. “It’s not important if you hurt me more or less than the others. Forgiveness is a choice. You aren’t entitled to it, even if you become a fucking saint. It’s a decision of people who you hurt if they want to give it to you or not. And I don’t.”

“You say it right now, but maybe one day—”

“No.” Dabi shakes his head. “I can give you a chance to prove you can change. I can let you stay in my life, if only for our family’s sake. If you manage to convince me you’re worth it, I may consider having some sort of relationship with you. I might even stop hating you one day, although it’s unlikely. But I will never, ever forgive you.”   

And this time, when he starts walking towards the door, Endeavor doesn’t stop him.

Chapter Text

Dabi hisses sharply, shaking his hand in hopes of alleviating the piercing shot of pain. The man whose face he’s just hit lets out his last ‘ugh’ as blood bursts from his nose and he finally topples down to the ground, unconscious. Which seems like a fucking miracle, seeing as Dabi’s been trying to achieve that for about ten minutes at this point. Honestly, he was starting to think this guy had a hidden endurance quirk or something. There are only so many times a normal person can take a punch to the head and not pass out.  

Still bemoaning his hurting hand, Dabi turns to the victim, a lanky teenager, who for some reason is still here, and grimaces. “There must be some truth to calling people thick-headed. No idea what his scull is made of but it sure as hell ain’t bone.”

The young boy has been standing just slightly out of the way for the entire fight – probably way too close to be considered safe, honestly – and is now staring at his fallen attacker with an unhealthy amount of glee. Dabi doesn’t doubt that it’s nice to see the person who was intending to hurt you knocked down a peg – in fact, he knows for a fact it’s fucking fantastic – but there’s something particularly disturbing about this boy’s expression that just rubs him the wrong way. He would not be surprised if he ended up having to fight him too. 

Which would be on par with how his night has been going so far. Luck has definitely not been on his side today. First, he was trying to help a nice homeless guy get a little warmer, but somehow got distracted by a cat – Aizawa’s wretched influence, no doubt – and ended up setting half of the guy’s things on fire instead. He apologized profusely, of course, and pushed enough money into the guy’s hands to cover twice what he destroyed, but still. It wasn’t his proudest moment. After that disaster, he got involved in a nasty fight with a pair of minor gangsters, and he won, sure, but he also broke a nail and ripped open his clothes in several places while doing it, so does it really count as winning? And now he can’t even knock out some dickhead without getting his hand hurt in the process.

Naturally, it’s all Endeavor’s fault. That conversation from earlier today has left Dabi unusually rattled – and also super fucking pissed. To the point that he ended up throwing his bedroom window open and smoking four cigarettes in a row, despite having promised himself he wouldn’t do it in the house, and the worst part is it didn’t even calm him down that much since he’s been worried about getting caught the entire time. No wonder it ended up reflecting badly on his performance once he eventually decided to go out and take his frustrations out on the local assholes. Endeavor somehow always manages to fuck up everything good in his life, even unintentionally.

“I, uhm, thank you?” the strange teenager says, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. He can’t be older than fifteen or sixteen, with bright hair and bright eyes, and clothes way too fancy for a sketchy back alley in a sketchy part of town. “You didn’t have to do that.”

Dabi quirks an eyebrow. “You don’t say?” And then, seeing the boy get flustered, he barks out a laugh. “No need to thank me. It was my pleasure.”

Intent on walking away before anyone can get too interested – he didn’t bump into Aizawa at any point during his misadventures, meaning it’s most likely the man’s day off, meaning there’s nobody around to save him if he gets himself in trouble again – Dabi turns around to leave, but is stopped by a sudden grip on the sleeve of his hoodie.

“Wait!” the boy pleads, weirdly desperate. When Dabi twists his head to shoot him a questioning look, he immediately gets assaulted by some aberrant kind of puppy eyes.

He sighs, but reluctantly stops trying to get away. “What?”  

If he’s about to get stabbed again, he’s going to be so pissed.

“I just… I mean…” the boy stutters, oddly shy all of the sudden. “You’re... you’re Dabi, right?”

“Does it matter?” he asks coolly, but inside he’s freaking out a little. Because what the fuck? Why would some random kid know his name? What could he possibly want from him?

Shit, he’s definitely getting stabbed again.

Waving his hands around frantically, the boy shakes his head. “No, no, of course not. I’m grateful no matter what! I would have been toast without your help!” When Dabi only continues to stare him down silently, the boy hurriedly continues, “But, you see, haha, I’m… a fan? Like, a really big fan! I know all about what you do for us! And I’ve been dreaming of meeting you! I mean, Dabi. But that’s you, right? I didn’t see you use your fire, but you’re as short as everyone says, and you’re wearing the clothes, and it’s not like there’s a lot of vigilantes running around here these days—”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Dabi interrupts him, dumbfounded. “A fan?”

What is there to be a fan of? All Dabi does is kick people for entertainment and set things on fire. He’s made sure his face has never been made public knowledge, so it can’t even be his dashing looks. There’s literally no reason for this clearly well-off kid to even know he exists.

“Of course! You’re a hero! I’ve read, like, all the forums about you! Everyone is so grateful for what you do! Do you have any idea how much safer this place has become since you started working here? Just look at the statistics! And in such a short time too! I really admire you for not being a fake like all these TV heroes and for caring about regular people from areas like this. Please, continue to protect us!”   

Dabi blinks, staring at the strange boy bowing before him in pure bafflement. Is this... really how people see him here? Or is this kid just deranged?

There are forums…?

“Right,” he says after a moment of uncomfortable silence, unsure what answer the kid is expecting from him. “Um, you’re welcome?”

“Man, my friends won’t believe me when I tell them I actually managed to meet you! This is the best day of my life!”

“…didn’t you just get assaulted?”

“Really, I can’t express how much what you’re doing means to me. I wish all heroes were like you and not stupid like Endeavor. Oh, hey, don’t want to be a bother, but can you maybe give me an autograph?”  

The boy hastily digs into his pockets, presumably in search of something that could be signed. Dabi doesn’t really expect him to find anything other than maybe a used tissue – which he’s not touching even for a ‘fan’, okay – and so his eyebrows shoot up in surprise when the kid somehow manages to find a decent looking piece of paper. It seems to be a slightly crumpled shopping list – that is, unless ‘two big carrots and lots of ice cream’ has some other meaning Dabi isn’t aware of.

Hesitantly, he takes it from the boy, eager to get this over with as quickly as possible, but as he looks down on it, he realizes there’s one more problem.

“I don’t suppose you have a pen on you...?”

The boy blinks, then flushes in embarrassment.

“Oh, of course, you’d need something… Damn, I’m an idiot... Just give me a moment…” He’s frantically digging through both of his pockets, but judging by the increasing panic on his face, to no avail. “I could swear I had a pen somewhere!”

His voice is so full of despair Dabi almost feels bad for him.

“Look, kid, I’m sorry, but I really need to get going…”

“No!” The boy’s head shoots up, his eyes wide and pleading. “I mean… There has to be something…” He glances around, desperately, as though hoping a pen might just miraculously be lying around on the ground in some sketchy back alley. There are no pens, obviously, only filth and trash, but as his gaze lands on the unconscious thug, the boy’s eyes light up. “Oh, I know! Just use my blood!”

“What.”

“My blood!” the boy repeats, grinning like a madman. He raises his arm and hastily pulls up the sleeve of his baby blue shirt, revealing quite a deep cut across his forearm. How did Dabi not notice that earlier…? “You can use it to write, right? It’s way more intimate than a pen, so that’s even better!”

Dabi is still staring at the heavily bleeding wound. “You should totally see a doctor about that. It seems serious.”

“Nonsense, I’m fine!” The boy waves it off, accidentally splashing some of his blood around, including on Dabi’s boots. “Oops.”

Taking a deep breath, Dabi, yet again, regrets not actually dying when he had a chance. This kind of shit only ever happens to him. He’s absolutely convinced this is some kind of cosmic punishment for his sins.

“Alright, let’s make a deal, yeah? I will sign your shopping list with your blood, whatever.” And what a sentence it is. “But, in exchange, you will let me bandage that wound and after that you’re gonna run straight to the hospital. Agreed?”

The boy nods enthusiastically, basically vibrating in excitement. Dabi sighs and gets some blood on his fingers.

This is going to be a long night, he can feel it.

***

Dabi wouldn’t fancy himself as being someone worth robbing.

If he was the one looking for an easy target – and he had been, in the past, many times – he definitely wouldn’t choose himself. And that’s not some weird pride talking. It’s just, the perfect victim for a little pickpocketing is someone with a thick wallet, obviously, but also someone unlikely to chase you after you take it from them. Middle aged people, mostly, those wearing expensive clothes or sparkling watches.

Dabi may be rich now, but he certainly doesn’t look like it. His dark clothes are baggy, dirty, and ripped in places they are not supposed to be. His face is hidden under a surgical mask and a large hood. The knuckles on his hands are reddened and bloody, not to mention he’s young and mostly in good shape. None of that should be inviting for a thief – especially one that is small and unexperienced.

And yet, just as he’s crossing the road towards the train station, he can feel his wallet being whisked out of his back pocket by a clumsy little hand.

(Why does he even bring his wallet with him for vigilanting, you may ask. He wouldn’t, if Aizawa wasn’t so fucking annoying about him stealing stuff when he clearly can afford to pay for them. As always, Aizawa is no fun.)

On reflex, he grabs the wrist of whoever it is that is attempting to rob him and holds it tight, even when the person starts struggling. Growling in irritation, he turns around to face the thief, but what he finds instead is a familiar little girl, desperately trying to free herself from his grip.

He stills, his hand going limp in shock as he stares at this adorable, miniature version of Toga. He opens his mouth to say something, anything to make her stay, but she uses his momentary weakness to wrench her arm away and, before he can do anything to stop her, she’s already running away.

Again.

“Shit!” he curses but this time wastes no time before sprinting after her.

She’s quick, much quicker than any six-year-old has any right to be, and she seems to know the dark streets of this district like the back of her hand, but no matter how good at running away she might be, Dabi won’t let her get away this time. He can’t.

They pass several people during their game of catch, almost bumping into at least four, and it seriously boils Dabi’s blood that nobody attempts to stop him – he’s a suspicious-looking man chasing after a clearly terrified young girl, for fuck’s sake – but he’s also glad they don’t, because he would have probably killed them if they interrupted him now that he’s so close to getting back another person he thought forever lost.

“Wait!” he calls after her, despite knowing she won’t listen, knowing that no one in her place would listen, knowing that she shouldn’t. “I just wanna talk!”

Somehow, this doesn’t convince her to slow down.

She continues to sprint away, before taking a sharp turn into a very narrow side street, one that Dabi nearly misses. He curses when he realizes he’s made a mistake and doesn’t waste time hurrying back, his heart racing like crazy, praying she’s still there. He lets out a sigh of relief when the alley turns out to be a dead end.

At first glance, it seems as though Toga has somehow disappeared anyway. The alley is mostly empty and dark, but the girl’s blonde hair should be easily noticeable. A frown twists his face, disappointment burning in his gut, and he’s about to start berating himself for losing her again when, suddenly, a muffled sniffle brings his attention to his left.

There’s a cardboard box there, one so dirty it practically blends in with the wall. He approaches it carefully, keeping his steps as quiet as possible, as to not spook the girl any further. And there she is, hidden behind it, curled around herself. Her small body is trembling as she hugs her arms around her knees protectively and hides her face behind the curtain of messy, blond hair.  

“Hey,” he says softly, pausing a good few feet away from her and raising his hands in a placating gesture. He feels awful about scaring her like this, but he couldn’t just let her go without at least speaking to her for a moment. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m not gonna hurt you.”

She flinches at hearing his voice, but still looks up, albeit slowly, revealing her terrified face, deadly pale and wet from tears. Even confronted with potential danger, she’s still so brave. And she must be in danger a lot - Dabi’s fingers twitch dangerously once he notices the numerous, dark bruises covering her trembling body.          

“I’m sorry!” she cries out, shaking, more tears falling down her gaunt face. “I’m sorry, please don’t hurt me, I’m sorry, I’m sorry—”

“Hey, hey, please don’t cry,” he pleads gently, crouching down so they’re at the same eye level. He tries to smile, in hopes of appearing a bit less threatening, but Toga doesn’t relax in the slightest. “I’m not going to hurt you, I promise.”

“I’m—I’m sorry,” she continues to sob, rubbing her eyes with her small fists. She doesn’t seem to hear him at all. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine, I’m not mad,” he continues to try to calm her down, slowly taking a few steps closer. He really doesn’t want to spook her – she’s terrified enough as it is. Yet, at the same time, he has to fight an urge to hide her in his arms and make sure no one ever hurts her again. “I promise.”

She blinks at him owlishly, sniffling. “You—you’re not?”

He lets some more genuine affection bleed into his smile. “I’m not. Really. I’m sorry I scared you. I just wanted to talk.”

“Talk?” She scrunches her nose adorably. “With me?”

“Yeah.” He nods seriously. “I’ve seen you around here before. I wanted to ask you if you were okay. It’s not a safe place for a little girl to be on her own.”

It’s not a safe place for anyone, really, but especially for young girls. Young boys too. He would know something about that. Something he wouldn’t wish on anyone else, let alone someone as dear to him as Toga.

Toga frowns, which shouldn’t be cute but very much is, and sends him a suspicious look. “My teacher says I shouldn’t talk to strangers.”

“Well, yeah, that’s true,” he admits after a moment of awkward silence. He scratches his head, trying to think of something he can say to get her to trust him. Then, a terrible idea hits him. “But, you see, I’m not a regular stranger. I’m a hero.”

The words leave a bad taste on his tongue but oh well. Sometimes there are more important things than his pride.

Her eyes widen slightly, but after a second go back to the suspicious glaring. “You don’t look like a hero.”

“Well, I am.” Not sure why, he takes the hood off, revealing his face. “My name is Dabi. What’s yours?”

She glares at him a little more but eventually relents. “I’m Toga Himiko.” Then, her mouth forms a cute ‘o’ as her expression turns excited. “Wait, that’s you! You saved me from that scary lady!”

He blinks, caught off guard. “I did?”

But Toga ignores him, losing most of her previous fear and, instead, sends him a wide grin, one painfully familiar, with fangs flashing and all. In all honesty, she doesn’t look all that different from a version of her he used to know. This one is shorter, sure, but other than her face being slightly rounder due to baby fat, most of her features are eerily alike. It only makes it that much clear that, even in his world, Toga was always just a child, too young for the horrors life hit her with.

Dabi’s heart does weird things at that realization, but he isn’t given time to process it.

“Wow, you really are a hero!” the girl exclaims, eyes sparkling. “Thank you for saving me, Mr. Dabi! I’m sorry I tried to rob you. You’re not mean like other people.”

“That’s okay,” he assures her, chuckling at her complete change in attitude. “Although, I would appreciate it if you gave me back my wallet. I need it to get back home.”

Toga pouts, but eventually responds with a small nod. Very carefully, she reaches into her lap, keeping her eyes trained on him with an intensity of a little hawk. Committed to appearing as unthreatening as possible, he sits motionless in his place, waiting patiently, only moving to take his wallet once she offers it to him.

But, as he leans forwards to reach for it, he inevitably catches the sight of something else resting in her lap. A question leaves his mouth before he can think about it twice.

“What else do you have there?”

His tone is light, simply curious, but it’s enough to make her freeze. Her eyes widen in panic as she rushes to cover whatever it is, shuffling back into the wall to get away from him.

“Nothing! It’s nothing!”

Cursing himself, Dabi raises his hands to show he doesn’t mean any harm, completely lost on what he’s done wrong this time. More than a little frantic, he hurries to reassure her, “Hey, hey, relax, I won’t take it away or anything. Whatever it is, it’s yours. I was just curious.”

However, his words have no effect. Toga only curls onto herself more, shaking her head and desperately repeating that ‘it’s nothing’. Helpless, Dabi stares at her in horror and wonders if, maybe, he’s a little in over his head here.

“Please, Himiko, don’t cry,” he tries one more time, fighting to keep his tone even. “It’s okay. Whatever it is, you can show me. I won’t be mad, I promise.”

Not sure what else he can do, he waits to see if his words have any effect. It takes a few moments, and she doesn’t exactly calm down, but her heart-wrenching sobs slowly turn into quiet sniffles and she begins to rub her eyes again. Dabi sits there awkwardly, with no idea what more he can do to help. He’s always been awful at dealing with crying girls.

Eventually, much to his relief, Toga seems to gather enough courage to look up at him again. Met with her big, red-rimmed eyes, Dabi’s urge to smack himself for causing this grows exponentially.

“You promise?” she whispers, voice wavering.

He nods solemnly. “I promise.”

She bites her lip, staring at him with uncertainty, clearly weighing the risks of showing him whatever it is she’s hiding. Hopefully, his expression is as supportive as he intends it to be, because he has a strong suspicion what her secret treasure might be and he refuses to be one of the assholes who berate her for it. It must work, at least a little, because, in the end, she straightens up and reluctantly reveals the small bundle in her lap.

It’s a dead little dove, with two twin bitemarks on its neck.

Dabi grins at her as wide as he can without looking creepy. “Oh wow! It’s so cool! You caught it yourself?”

For a moment, she’s frozen, simply gaping at him in shock. When he only continues to smile at her, she allows her own tentative smile to bloom on her face, then breaks into giggles and starts nodding her head excitedly. “Yes! It’s easy! You just need to know where to grab it! I can show you if you want! Do you drink blood too? Is your quirk like mine?”

He shakes his head, feeling a pang of irrational guilt when it causes her to deflate slightly. “No, my quirk is fire. But I think your quirk is very cool.”

“Really?” she says quietly, almost in awe. Then her face twists into a frown. “But my parents say it’s a bad quirk. That it’s like a vil—vila—villa…”

“Villain’s?” Dabi scoffs. “Well, your parents are stupid. Your quirk is super cool. You could even be a hero if you wanted. And I know that because I’m a hero, so you can’t argue.”

She giggles a little more at his tone. “You’re funny!” And just as quickly she sobers up again. “But you shouldn’t say bad words about parents. They will get mad and hurt you.”

Right, the bruises. Dabi was kind of hoping they were from the streets.

“Do your parents hurt you often, Himiko?” he asks carefully, a (fairly stupid) plan already forming in his head.

She fidgets uncomfortably, eyes locked on the dead dove. “Only when I do bad things.”

Is it too late to go back to his villain roots now? Would anyone even mind if he got rid of two obvious pieces of trash that evidently don’t deserve to live anyway?

“They shouldn’t be doing it at all,” he insists, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Parents shouldn’t hurt their children. Ever.”

“They just want me to be normal,” she mumbles, but with how miserable she sounds, Dabi doubts she believes it herself.

“My boyfriend is half a bird. I can set myself on fire wherever I want. One of the top pro heroes is a fucking washing machine,” he replies, raising an eyebrow. “Drinking blood sounds perfectly normal to me.”

She doesn’t seem convinced, but she smiles at him nonetheless. She’s so cute and innocent still. How could her parents treat her like a freak just because her quirk is not as pretty as they wanted? Maybe if she got the support she needed, she wouldn’t end up snapping and killing all these people. Dabi loved her anyway, of course, but he couldn’t deny that her mental state in the future was more than a little worrying. If he could somehow help her, maybe she could have a normal childhood. A normal life.

“Would you go somewhere with me?” he asks suddenly, wincing internally at how creepy it sounds. “I have a friend I would like you to meet.”

She tilts her head curiously. “Another hero?”

“Yup. I’m sure he has a lot of cool stuff we could play with. And he would give us dessert.”

Fuck, he feels like some creep, trying to lure her in like that. Tempting her with sweets? Really? What’s next? Kittens in the basement?

“Chocolate?” she asks, narrowing her eyes.

“Whatever you want,” Dabi promises, offering her his hand.

“Okay,” she says, grinning as she takes it with little to no hesitation.

It’s a good thing he’s not really a creep. Children are way too easy to manipulate.     

***

As much as Dabi would prefer to be anywhere else, they inevitably end up on Eraserhead’s doorstep.

It’s late – much too late for visits, especially unannounced ones – but, unfortunately, there’s no one else he can trust with this, so he rings the doorbell anyway, Toga’s small hand held tightly in his own.

After a long moment of silence, long enough for Dabi to start wondering if maybe Aizawa isn’t even home, the door opens abruptly, startling them both.

“What do you want,” Aizawa demands, voice flat, yet somehow threatening.

His hair is even wilder than usual, clearly straight out of bed, with the bags under his eyes so deep they almost look black, and he’s wearing a yellow, Present Mic-themed pyjamas. Dabi isn’t sure if he wants to take a picture or never see the guy ever again.

“I need your help,” he admits, reluctantly, gesturing with his eyes to the little girl hugging his leg.

Aizawa’s tired gaze, naturally, follows his. When his half-asleep brain fully registers what’s in front of him, he stills.

“That’s a child,” he says flatly, face blank.

Toga’s grip on his pants tightens. Dabi sends Eraser a grin that’s he hopes is only slightly unhinged. “Her name is Toga Himiko.”

Aizawa’s expression doesn’t change. In that moment, he looks at least thirty years older than he actually is.

“Dabi, did you kidnap a child.”

Dabi gasps, offended. “I would never!” he exclaims in fake outrage, because he both would and have done so before, and then immediately cracks a smile. “Besides, it’s not kidnapping if she came willingly.”

Unamused, Aizawa simply stares at him with dead eyes. Toga lets out a small whine. The man pinches his nose and sighs.

“Today is my day off, you know,” he grumbles, but steps back to let them in anyway.

***

Turns out, for someone who doesn’t have children, Aizawa has a suspiciously large collection of kids’ stuff in his house. Knowing more or less who the man becomes in the future, it probably shouldn’t be surprising. Dabi is just grateful the man hasn’t actually tried to adopt him.

The hero is quick to introduce himself to Toga, who remains fearful of him, but relaxes significantly once she’s shown to the plush carpet and given a box full of various toys. After assuring her that she’s safe and can play with whatever she wants, Aizawa drags Dabi to the kitchen with a bit more force than necessary.

The moment they’re alone, the man has his signature disapproving glare in place and fixed on Dabi.

“Explain.”

And yeah, that’s fair. Dabi did sort of kind of kidnap a child and brought it here. For a good reason, but still. No matter how lenient he’s been about Dabi’s legally questionable actions, the man is still a hero. Technically, this isn’t even his problem and it is his day off.

Thankfully, Dabi is perfectly aware that this is a man who ends up adopting, like, thirty kids in the future and knows exactly what to say to get them both on the same page.

He leans against the counter, tapping his fingers on it absentmindedly. “I was out in town and kind of accidentally run into her. I’ve seen her there before so I thought I would follow her, see if she’s okay. Guess you’ve been rubbing off on me,” he says with a humourless chuckle. Shockingly, Aizawa doesn’t seem very amused. “Found her in a sketchy dark alley, all alone, with a shit ton of bruises, terrified out of her mind and begging me not to harm her. And that’s before she told me her parents hurt her when she does ‘bad things’. By which she means using her quirk, which is apparently not normal enough for them,” he finishes with a disgusted scoff.

Aizawa stays quiet just long enough for Dabi to almost start fidgeting, which is ridiculous, because Dabi doesn’t fidget.

“And your solution to this was to kidnap her?”

Oh, come on, he didn’t really kidnap her! She wasn’t even screaming or fighting back, or threatening to blow him up! Totally different from actual kidnappings! Just ask that Bakubo kid or whatever his name was! Honestly, why does Eraser need to be so righteous all the time?

“Better me than any of the other freaks around there,” he feels like he has to point out, but it sort of backfires on him when his voice turns out way more vicious than he intends.

He winces when Aizawa’s eyes narrow sharply, all sleepiness gone, replaced with too-intense attention Dabi would rather not be the target of, thank you very much.

“Are you talking from experience?” the hero asks, somehow both gentle and demanding. He doesn’t sound like he actually needs an answer though.

And look, Dabi likes Aizawa well enough, he probably trusts the man more than he should, but he is so not going to talk about this. It belongs in the past, the past where he was weak and couldn’t protect himself properly. It doesn’t matter now. Besides, this isn’t about him.

“Listen, her parents clearly don’t give a shit about her if she’s wandering around town in the middle of the night all alone. She’s, what, six? You probably could get their custody taken away just for that. What is it called, negligence? And they hate her quirk just because it makes her drink blood. As if there weren’t people with dog heads running around! Not to mention the bruises.”

He makes no attempt at hiding the disgust on his face. A lot of crimes can be excused, and even those that can’t can at least be understood, but child abuse is not one of them. Dabi will be damned before he lets Toga anywhere near those scumbags. Oh, how he wishes he could just go and turn both of these pathetic excuses of parents into tiny piles of ashes. The legal way is so much harder. Much less fun too.  

“A child alone on the streets, bruised and getting into dangerous situations,” Aizawa says, eyebrow raised pointedly. “Sounds oddly familiar.”

Fuck you, Eraser. This really isn’t the time to be a smartass.

“Damn, you’re annoying,” Dabi mutters under his breath and ignores the little voice in his head calling it karma. “Look, she obviously needed help so I decided to help her. Like a hero or whatever.” He crosses his arms stubbornly, staring at Aizawa with a silent challenge. “Have I made a mistake by coming here?”

Aizawa tsks, rubbing his face. “How is it that you’re so insistent on helping this girl yet you refuse any help offered to you?” Dabi goes to snap something as a reply, but the man continues before he can, leaving the question as a rhetorical one. “Fine, yes, I will help her. Obviously. I just wish you would let me help you too.”

Exasperated, he rolls his eyes. “I told you I don’t need any help.” Then, he hesitates, remembering the events from earlier today. “But.” Oh, why does Eraser has to perk up like this? It’s only making this whole ‘asking for help thing’ so much more difficult! “I spoke to my father today. I’m sure you can guess I don’t believe even one word coming from his mouth, but he promised to let my mum divorce him and that would sure spare us a lot of problems. So I will give him a chance to do that. But if he goes back on his word… I guess we will need some help getting that divorce without his cooperation.”

The hero doesn’t seem like he believes Endeavor’s promises either, which definitely gives him a lot of points in Dabi’s books. He also looks like he’s almost eager to take Endeavor down one way or another, which nearly makes Eraserhead Dabi’s new favourite hero.

“I’m sure you know going against your father won’t be easy,” Aizawa warns him, as if Dabi can’t see the creepy grin already growing on his face. “Then again, I’m sure it’s just going to make his defeat so much more satisfying.”

Responding with a matching grin, Dabi feels something settle inside of him, something he wasn’t even aware was displaced. He wants to say something, maybe thank the man or whatever mushy stuff normal people do, but before he can do that, a sound of crying from the living room reaches his ears.

Without hesitation, he ditches Aizawa in the kitchen and sprints to the source of the crying, the familiar spark of protective rage spreading through his chest. He arrives to the sight of Present Mic standing dumbfounded in the entryway to the living room, random strands of hair sticking out from his messy bun and red sleep marks imprinted on his face, and Toga, trembling and backing away into the couch, a duck plushie squeezed tightly in her arms.

Dabi curses himself inwardly as he rushes to the girl’s side. He should have never left her alone in a strange place.

“Hey, it’s okay, I’m here, see?” he attempts to console her, kneeling next to her and smiling softly. Her cries instantly get less intense as she relaxes her grip on the toy to blink at him. Deciding he’s on the right track, he sits down on the floor next to her, hopefully putting himself right between Toga and the strange man who spooked her. “You’re safe, so don’t cry, okay? These guys are heroes too. They’re not going to hurt you.”

“You left,” she hiccups, her big eyes drilling into him in silent accusation. But she’s not crying anymore and she even tries to wipe the tears away from her face, so he will have to live with the knife she just put into his heart.

“Sorry.” He winces, feeling unreasonably guilty and vowing to never ever have children because, apparently, he’s weak like a bitch for some tears and sad eyes. “You’re right, I shouldn’t have left you alone. In my defence, I had to discuss some very important things with that funny guy over there.”

He points at the unimpressed Aizawa, standing on the other side of the room and watching them silently. Toga glances at the man, thinks for a moment, decides he really is funny and turns back to Dabi with a small smile on her lips.

“Fine. But don’t leave again, okay?” She puts the duck plushie on the floor and reaches behind her to reveal a red truck that she hands him and he instinctively takes. “You have to play with me now.”

Behind him, Aizawa snorts. Which is exactly why he isn’t, and is never going to be, Dabi’s favourite hero.

“I— But—” he stammers out, staring at the toy in his hand helplessly. Toga makes the sad eyes again, her lower lip already beginning to tremble, and, just like that, he crumbles. “Yeah, okay, let’s play. But you will have to tell me what to do.”

While Toga launches into an elaborate explanation of what she wants from him, Present Mic seems to finally discover his tongue again. Shooting them one last bemused look, he walks over to Aizawa, barely avoiding tripping over a bunch of dolls in his way. Toga laughs at the hero’s misfortune, although she tries to mask it as her laughing at the plushie, as to not anger him with her reaction. Dabi, on the other hand, doesn’t bother hiding his amusement. Nevermind that he’s the one aimlessly pushing around a plastic truck, with the duck plushie as its sole passenger.   

“Shouta, darling, why is there a child in our living room?”

Dabi has to stop himself from wincing at Present Mic’s sickly sweet tone. The man is smiling, most likely not to alarm Toga again, but you would have to be blind to miss the dangerous edge in the curve of his lips.

“Her name is Toga Himiko,” is Aizawa’s reply, which, surprise, surprise, does not seem to satisfy his fuming husband. “She needs help.”

Present Mic sighs at that, pinching his nose. “Shouta, did you kidnap a child again?”

When Dabi bursts out laughing, he doesn’t feel an ounce of shame. Toga blinks at him in surprise, tilting her head questioningly, to which he simply responds by shaking his. Aizawa attempts to murder him with a glare, but Dabi doesn’t miss the pink tint colouring his cheeks.

“The problem child did.” Aizawa gestures towards him, looking extremely smug at being able to put the blame on someone else for once, which is really just rude. Present Mic raises an eyebrow at them both, somehow, acting for all purposes like he’s the only sane one around here. At this point, Dabi would bet he’s kidnapped a child before, too. “Apparently, her parents aren’t treating her right.”

“Ah.” He nods, his strained smile giving way to a somber grimace of understanding. “So, what’s the plan?”

Wow. He really doesn’t waste any time before jumping into hero mode, huh? Or, how Dabi likes to call it, the bleeding heart mode. If he was in Present Mic’s place, he thinks he would have had at least a few more questions before plunging head first into a morally questionable quest for justice, but he guesses being married to Aizawa means being able to take such things in stride.  

Aizawa shrugs, expression completely unbothered. “Like he said, finding her wandering around alone in the middle of the night is enough ground to temporarily remove her from their care. In the morning, I will go to investigate further, but it shouldn’t be hard to get their custody revoked permanently.”

“Not with these bruises, it won’t,” Present Mic mutters darkly as his eyes land on Toga’s exposed arms.

“What?” Toga asks suddenly, dropping her toy and turning to stare at the two men with wide eyes. “You’re... you’re taking me away? From mum and dad?”

Both heroes wince – and really, it’s their fault for discussing such things in her hearing range, they deserve their turn at being subjected to the sad eyes! – then exchange a look that could as well be an entire conversation, before Aizawa lets out a sigh and approaches them carefully. Toga tenses, but doesn’t back down, her gaze so intense she’s barely even blinking. Dabi sighs to himself, wondering if he should pet her or something to help her relax.

“Your mum and dad, are they nice to you?” Aizawa inquires, crouching a few feet away from them, close enough that he can meet her stare at the same eye level, but not close enough to crowd her.

Caught off guard by the question, Toga looks to Dabit helplessly, as though expecting him to provide her with the correct response. Gently, he takes her hand and squeezes it a little, attempting an encouraging smile as he points with his chin to Aizawa, hoping to convey that this is something she needs to answer herself.

“They are nice… sometimes,” she mumbles eventually.

It’s entirely unconvincing.

“And when they aren’t?” Aizawa pushes.

She flinches a little, even though Aizawa’s tone remains even. Again, she briefly glances at Dabi, but this time replies a lot quicker.

“Then it hurts,” she whispers, her voice so terribly small. With a shaking hand, she pats the floor in search of her new favourite plushie and Dabi is quick to place it in her lap so that she can go back to squeezing the life out of it.

He can see his own desire to murder the dickheads reflected in Aizawa’s stormy expression and wonders for a moment whether the man is truly as heroic as he paints himself to be. There is this inner darkness to him he keeps hidden most of the time, but on the rare occasions he lets it slip out like this, it almost gives Dabi shivers. Aizawa would be fucking terrifying if he ever became a villain, that’s for sure.

(On the other hand, he would also make an excellent vigilante, if one day his current job got too limiting in its annoying legality. Perhaps Dabi could suggest it to him sometime. Sow the seed, as they say.)

“Do you like living with your parents?” Dabi is the one to ask Toga next, aiming for the same neutral tone Eraserhead used, but still ending up sounding rather biased.

Oh, well. It’s pretty fucking obvious that she doesn’t, isn’t it?

Toga observes both of them for a moment, chewing on her lower lip nervously, which unintentionally shows off her fangs. It’s like she’s searching their faces for some indication that she can trust them with the truth. Whatever she finds there must be satisfying enough because, eventually, she shakes her head.

“Then you don’t have to go back to them,” Aizawa assures her. Accompanying his words is a kind smile and it should look creepy, like all of the man’s grins before, but, somehow, it just feels warm and safe.

For Toga, of course.

The girl beams at the hero at hearing that, but her enthusiasm dims almost immediately. “But where else can I go?”

“We will find you a nice home,” Aizawa promises and he sounds so sure of it, so confident, it’s impossible not to believe him. “Somewhere where no one will hurt you anymore, okay? They won’t yell at you or hit you, and you will be free to use your quirk as much as you want. I promise.”

Aizawa continues to smile at her, most likely hoping his words will help her feel safe. Maybe even get a cheer out of her. However, instead of looking reassured, fear flashes through Toga’s face and her body starts shaking. Her grip on the stuffed duck becomes dangerously tight as she gapes at Dabi in betrayal.

“You told them?!”

Frozen under her accusing stare, feeling like a deer caught in the headlights, Dabi has no idea what to say.

“I did, but—”   

She doesn’t even let him finish, a sob wrenching out of her at the confirmation, and she tries to back away even further, clutching the toy in front of her like a shield. Dabi’s heart squeezes achingly at the sight of her like that and he curses himself for once again being too careless.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I can’t help it, I’m sorry!” She’s breathing heavily, panicked even though no one dares to make even a single move towards her, eyes squeezed tight as she waits for – in her mind – inevitable pain. “I’m sorry, I won’t—I won’t do it anymore, I promise, I will be good, I’m sorry!”

For some reason, Aizawa glares at him, which, okay, he might blame himself, but Aizawa has no right to do it when it was him who mentioned the quirk to her in the first place. As for Dabi, he’s pretty torn between hiding Toga in his arms so no one can ever hurt her again and going out to burn off every single piece of skin on her worthless parents’ bodies.

And this time, the murder part really isn’t a joke.

“Himiko, no one is mad at you, I promise,” he attempts to get through to her, but it doesn’t appear to be working. She just shakes her head, sobbing even harder and curling further onto herself. Fuck. Why is he so bad at this? “Come on, don’t cry. It’s okay. No one’s going to hurt you.”

“But—! But I’m bad!” she cries, breathless, as more tears roll down her face.

“You’re not bad, Himiko,” Aizawa says firmly, face muscles twitching from the effort of holding back a frown as to not scare her, eyes flashing red for a moment from the silent fury. “Your parents were wrong about your quirk. I promise we are not mad.” Finally, she seems to be calming down a bit, her sobs replaced by quiet hiccupping. Aizawa’s frame loses some of its tenseness, his voice going back to the gentle kindness. “Can you look at me, please?”

Still curled around her plushie, Toga gulps before slowly raising her head, letting them see her puffy, red-rimmed eyes and snotty nose. She doesn’t relax, but at least she seems so be listening.

“I swear to you that nothing bad is going to happen to you while you’re here, okay? No matter what.”

They all know words can only do so much and that she probably won’t really believe them immediately, but that’s all right. There will be time for proving this to her later. Now that she’s no longer in her awful home, they will have all the time in the world to show her she’s safe.

She sniffs, her big eyes focused solely on Aizawa, with so much raw hope in them it’s hard not to look away.

“You really promise?”

For someone whose guardians probably never kept any, she’s surprisingly adamant on promises, Dabi thinks, observing as Aizawa slowly reaches out his hand with a little finger up.

“Pinky promise,” he tells her with a hilarious level of seriousness.

Hesitantly, almost shyly, she joins her much smaller finger with his and shakes them to seal the deal. She even manages to offer him a weak smile, before focusing her attention on her hand, staring at it in wonder.

Maybe it makes sense, Dabi amends. After all, what else can someone so small and vulnerable demand other than a promise?

“Himiko,” he says before he can think about it, instantly catching her attention. A ridiculous need to fidget overtakes him without a warning, but he doesn’t give in because he’s not a total pussy, okay. “I’m sorry for telling them. I knew they wouldn’t be mad, but it was still your secret to share. Can you forgive me?”

It’s so weird, talking to her like this. With older Toga things were so much different. This one seems so fragile, so innocent. The older one was too, in a way, even if no one else could see it, but it wasn’t like this. She was like a sister to him, in all the meanings of the word. He would insult her and she would laugh or (mostly) playfully threaten to stab him. With this Toga, he feels as if one wrong word could ruin all the progress he’s made in their still new and fragile relationship.

She watches him in silence for a while, as if pondering on his sincerity, but eventually she nods, allowing herself to grin at him and shuffling closer. He smiles back, relieved, when suddenly she hits him with the stuffed duck. Painfully.

He yelps from the unexpected assault as she bursts into giggles. “That’s payback,” she informs him, pretending to be all relaxed even though Dabi can see her holding her breath as she waits for his reaction.

“Yeah, that’s fair,” he tells her, raising his hands in defeat. “I definitely deserved that.”

Her shoulders drop and her grin widens. At least her mood swings are still the same.

“Let’s play princesses! You are the princess and I am the knight that has to save you from the evil dragon!”

“Why am I the princess…?” he asks, but she’s already running to the toy box to get herself a nice plastic sword, so he doesn’t get an answer.

***

After saving Dabi from three evil dragons, making him braid her hair and then forcing him to let her braid his, drinking two cups of hot cocoa and watching four episodes of Phineas and Ferb, Toga finally starts yawning. Both Aizawa and Present Mic abandoned Dabi to babysitting a long time ago, claiming they’re too exhausted to deal with this now and it’s his responsibility for bringing her here anyway. It’s almost bright outside, signifying that he really should be getting back, although he’s already resigned himself to being caught today. There’s simply no way he can still get back before anyone notices his absence, but it’s not like he can just leave. He will come up with some excuse on the train or something. 

Thankfully, just as he’s thinking about it, Present Mic emerges from the bedroom. His appearance is still very messy, but at least now he seems rested. Which is sick, honestly, considering it must be, like, 5 AM. 

“Morning, kiddos!” he greets them with a sunny smile, heading for the kitchen. Dabi grimaces at being called a kid, then takes Himiko’s hand and makes them both follow the man.

“Why are you so fucking lively,” Dabi grumbles, his own sleepless night finally catching up to him.

“I’m a morning person,” the hero responds with a wink. Dabi wonders if he’s fallen asleep after all and this is some sort of a nightmare. “And you shouldn’t swear around a child.”

“Are you making coffee?” he asks hopefully, ignoring the last statement, just as Present Mic starts pushing some buttons on a fancy coffee machine.

“Funny, I remember you not liking our coffee last time.”

“Make it like a normal person and it will be fine.”

At his feet, Toga tugs on his arm, urging him to bend down so she can whisper something in his ear. He smiles at her, ruffling her hair gently, which makes her giggle and swat his hand away.

“And Himiko here would like another cocoa,” he dutifully relays, to which the girl nods in  confirmation.

The man doesn’t fight them, soon presenting them with their requested drinks – Dabi’s coffee full of milk and sugar, as it should be – while sipping on a black abomination himself. They sit in silence as the hero heats himself some toast and it’s so awfully domestic that Dabi needs to step in immediately.

“Why are you up so early?” he asks, making sure his voice is properly disgusted. “And don’t give me that shit about being a morning person.”

Present Mic looks at him like he’s an idiot, which might be the most humiliating thing that’s happened to him in his entire life.

“I have work,” he explains, drumming his fingers on the table top to the rhythm of the song Dabi doesn’t recognize. “Radio stars don’t get to sleep in!” He shoots them finger guns and laughs.

It’s looking like his nightmare theory is getting more and more plausible.

“Well, I need to get going,” he says, unimpressed with the man’s antics even as Toga giggles. “My parents will be pissed enough as it is.”

Present Mic blinks, as if he totally forgot Dabi is technically a child. “Right, of course. Don’t worry about our little listener here, Shouta will take care of her. He’s already thinking about which family might take her in!”

“Wait, you’re leaving?!” Toga shrieks before he can answer, gripping his arm tightly and looking up at him with panic in her eyes.

Once again assaulted by the power of her cuteness, Dabi struggles to explain himself, “I have to go back to my own home. But I promise I will be back, okay? I’m not leaving forever.”

“But you can’t go!” she cries, looking completely crestfallen. “Please, don’t leave me!”

“I’m not leaving,” he repeats softly, wiping away the few tears that managed to fall down her cheeks. “I will come back, I promise. Soon. Maybe even tomorrow. Okay?”

She sniffs, back to chewing on her lip – he wonders if the habit has anything to do with her quirk – and then abruptly throws her arms around his middle and pushes her face into his t-shirt. Still feeling unreasonably guilty, he returns the hug and wishes he could just take her with him. Alas, he would never willingly subject anyone to Endeavor, so he will have to trust Eraser to find her a better home.

Hopefully, her new guardians won’t be opposed to him visiting, because fuck if he’s going to give her up now that he’s found her again. He’s going to make sure she has the best life she could have ever wished for, even if it kills him.

***

It’s after seven when he finally gets back – way too late to hope for his absence to go unnoticed. He cringes even before he opens the front door. No need to bother with the window if they already know he’s not home.

He expects to be met with his mother’s disappointed glare. What he doesn’t expect is for her to be holding up his fucking crumpled cigs pack.

If a look could kill, Dabi’s body would already be cooling on the floor. The intensity of the raw fury on her face makes it seem like he just murdered someone – and he didn’t do that for at least a month now!

“Touya Todoroki, explain to me right now what the hell is this,” she demands and wow, for someone who’s normally so timid, Rei sure can be intimidating when she wants to.  

Honestly, fuck his luck. It’s not enough that he’s already pissed her off with his cruel words yesterday, it’s not enough that he ignored her wishes and went to talk with his father anyway, it’s not even enough that she’s caught him sneaking out for an entire night, no, she also had to find his cigarettes. Because why the fuck not, right?

He gulps, unsure how he could even begin to explain.

“I don’t know?” he tries to play dumb.

Her eyes narrow sharply and he winces, realizing he’s just made a grievous mistake.

“You don’t know,” she repeats flatly, absolutely unimpressed. “I suppose you don’t know how this got into your room either?”

Dabi chooses to stay silent, since no answer sounds like a good one right now. He’s fidgeting nervously, his eyes darting around for something, anything to save him from certain doom. Really, where’s Shouto when he’s needed? 

“Where did you even get this?” She takes a step closer and Dabi fights an urge to step back.

Instead of saying something that would help him, he instead digs his grave even deeper. “Mum, I can explain—”

“Explain? Oh, yes, please, explain to me how you, a fifteen-year-old boy, got yourself cigarettes,” she says, in almost exactly the same sickly sweet tone Present Mic used on Aizawa earlier. “I would love to hear it.”

“I—it’s, um, you see...” He tries to come up with something, anything that could save him, but his brain is too mushy from sleep-deprivation to work properly. “People! People at, ehm, at school. They have them. From somewhere.”

She doesn’t seem convinced. Dabi stifles a groan. Why is he like this? He’s a villain, he’s literally murdered people and laughed heroes in the face about it, why is his mother’s disapproval suddenly throwing him back into being a flustered teenager?

“I’m sure,” she says dryly. Then she strikes from a different direction. “And where have you been tonight?”

“Just going on a walk around,” he quickly lies, schooling his expression to something more earnest, or at least attempting to. “To clear my head and stuff.”

“A walk? For the whole night?” She laughs in disbelief. “Do you think I’m stupid?”  

Shit.

“I—”

“Why are you lying to me, Touya?” Her face is a mix of frustration and anger and worry, and Dabi can’t look at her without feeling so awfully guilty. “You’re angry all the time, you disrespect me, you disappear for hours without explanation and now I find out you’re smoking?! Do you have any idea how worried I was?! You weren’t in your room and the window was open, and what was I supposed to think?!”

There are tears in her eyes now and her body’s trembling, and it’s so similar to how Toga was, and Dabi could die from how suffocating the guilt clogging his throat is. She’s right, of course she’s right. She has no idea who he really is – to her, he’s her rebellious teenage son, who suddenly started acting weird and is now recklessly putting himself in dangerous situations. Of course she would freak out about finding his bedroom empty, especially after what she must think was an argument with Endeavor.

He really is a shitty son.

“I’m sorry—”

“It’s clear that something is wrong,” she continues, taking a few steps closer, “and I should have talked to you earlier, really talked to you, but I thought—I didn’t think you would be so stupid!”

She makes a move with her arms that obviously isn’t aimed at him, he knows that, just like he knows she doesn’t mean what she says, she’s just emotional, but the words cut anyway and the instinct ingrained in him about an angry parent shouting at him kicks in, and before he fully realizes what’s happening, he flinches back.

She freezes instantly, staring at him with wide eyes and mouth half-opened. She looks like she’s been slapped.

“Baby, I—”

“It’s fine,” he assures her quickly, too quickly, feeling the blood rush to his cheeks.

“I—I wouldn’t… I would never…” she whispers, her face white and full of guilt.

Without hesitation, he closes the gap between them, grabs her trembling arms and looks her straight in the eyes. “I know.”

“Touya—”

“It’s okay, mum, I know—I know you wouldn’t,” he says, his lips dry. He thinks his heart must have stopped or maybe it’s beating so fast that he can’t feel it anymore. “I’m sorry for worrying you. And I’m sorry for what I said. I’ve been giving you a hard time recently, I know, and I’m sorry. You had every right to be mad. It’s fine.”

Rei shakes her head like she doesn’t hear him and lets out a sob, more tears falling down her face. “I’m not like him, love, I’m not—”

Dabi’s grip on her tightens. “I know.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. You don’t have to be scared of me, ever, I promise.”

Not for the first time, a vision of Shouto’s scarred face flashes before his eyes.

“I’m not, mum. It’s alright. I’m not scared of you.”

She nods weakly and he pulls her into a hug. It seems to help, although she’s still shaking slightly.

“You promise?” she whispers into his shoulder. The echo of Toga is so clear, the same helplessness, the same desperation.

“I promise,” he lies. He doesn’t have the heart to tell her the truth. “I know you would never hurt me.”

“I wouldn’t, I would never, I love you, I’m not like him, I’m sorry—” she continues to babble, every word leaving her mouth breaking Dabi’s heart just a little bit more.

He squeezes her tighter, letting her hide her wet face in the crook of his neck, and continues to murmur meaningless reassurances. It doesn’t matter if they’re true or not if they’re going to make her feel better. He even starts rocking them a little after a moment, following the whispers of his intuition, until eventually he can’t feel her shivering anymore.

He doesn’t want to push her away, but it’s kind of awkward to keep hugging in the hallway. He rubs a few soothing circles on her back, then detangled himself from her arms, just enough to be able to walk, and gently transports them both to the living room couch. He makes her sit first, then takes a place right beside her, reaching for her hand so he can hold it.

“Mum? Are you okay?”

“I don’t think so,” she croaks through numb lips. Her breath hitches again. “Touya, I’m sorry, I really am—"

“I know, mum,” he insists, squeezing her hand to emphasise his point. “It’s okay. Really.”

“But—”

“No buts. I’m fine, you’re fine, everything is fine. You just need to calm down, okay?” He stares her down until she nods shakily. “Okay. I’m gonna make you some tea, yeah? Just wait here, I will be right back.”

He shoots her an almost real smile and makes his way to the kitchen.

He taps his foot impatiently as he waits for the water to boil, constantly glancing towards the living room to make sure his mother is alright. Or, well, as alright as she can be. Honestly, as much as he’s at fault for a lot of it, this situation is just more proof Rei desperately needs to see a therapist. She’s been acting so normally all this time, Dabi has nearly forgotten how close they are to the time the original Shouto Incident occurred.

He's not going to forget again.

Once the tea is ready, he carries it back to Rei and hands it to her with another half-real smile. She attempts to return it, but only manages a slight grimace. She gives up quickly, instead raising the steaming mug to her mouth and taking a tentative sip.

“It’s my favourite,” she whispers in wonder, as though him knowing her favourite tea is something exceptional. “Thank you.”

“No problem,” he says, once again taking the place next to her. “I hope it makes you feel a little better.”

Her grip on the mug tightens. “Maybe just a little.”

They sit there in silence, only broken by Rei occasionally blowing at her tea, until Dabi’s eyes begin to close without his permission.

“Mum,” he begins, placing a hand on her shoulder, “I really am sorry for everything. I would like us to sit down together and talk, just like you said we should, and I promise I will explain everything, but I don’t think now is the right time. I’m exhausted and so are you. So can we just go to sleep now and have this conversation once we’re both feeling a little more alive?”

She exhales heavily. “Yes, I think that’s a good idea.” He smiles at her again, this time with a genuine smile, but she’s not finished yet. “But,” she adds, “you promise me we will have this talk as soon as possible.”

He nods. “I promise.”

“Alright.” She lets her shoulders drop, sighing again. “Let us go to bed then.”    

Chapter Text

Both physically and emotionally exhausted, Dabi basically drags himself to his room. There is not enough energy left in him to curse himself for being so careless and for basically causing his mother to have another breakdown, but he’s sure he’s going to feel like shit about it once he wakes up. Not bothering with changing or even washing his face, he throws himself onto the bed, sighing at the soft material caressing his skin, and falls asleep the instant his head meets the pillow.

(If he had spared a moment to reflect back on everything that happened that day, it might have absorbed him enough to keep him awake through at least two more nights. Fortunately for him – and his still developing body –  his brain decides to take mercy on him this one time and lets the darkness overtake him without a single complaint.)

He dreams, but his dreams are made of fire and blood, and he never remembers them in the morning anyway. It wasn’t always like that – he recalls dreaming of sunshine, of his siblings’ laughter and the warmth of his mother’s embrace, a long time ago – but the enormity of his sins left its mark and the innocence of his childhood mind got drowned out by screams and the smell of burned meat.

In the end, he’s sort of glad he doesn’t remember the nightmares.

When he wakes up, not nearly as rested as he hoped to be, it’s already after lunch. He rubs at his gluey eyes, stifling a yawn. There’s an unpleasant emptiness in his stomach, but it’s such a familiar feeling that it’s almost laughably easy to ignore. For a moment, he entertains the idea of going downstairs and fetching himself something to eat – it’s not like his mother is going to starve him just because she’s a little pissed, she’s not Endeavor – but he still winces at the prospect of having to face her. Now that she’s had time to collect herself, she’s sure to still be mad at him for everything he’s put her through those last couple days.  

There’s nothing to do about it, he finally decides, although not without a healthy dose of trepidation. He knows he’s being a coward. After all, he brought it on himself – he should have been more careful. He can’t blame her for worrying.

Still, he hopes she won’t be too mad. He knows he promised her a talk and he very much intends to keep this promise, but, like it or not, he also kind of has things he needs to take care of before school starts tomorrow.

It’s not that he doesn’t trust Aizawa and his dorky husband to look after Toga, quite the opposite. There’s probably no other place she would be safer at. He’s well aware of Eraser’s weird thing about instantly adopting every child in need he lands his eyes on and just from seeing him yesterday it’s clear Toga already has him wrapped around her finger. It’s very unlikely the man would allow any harm to befall her. However, none of that knowledge is enough to quell the anxious crawling under his skin, urging him to go check up on her, to make sure she’s safe, to confirm she’s real and this hasn’t all been a very elaborate cruel joke his brain is playing on him.

Realizing he’s still in his stinky yesterday’s clothes, he takes a quick shower and changes into something fresh. He tells himself that him choosing to wear the only red hoodie he owns has nothing to do with it being Toga’s favourite colour and then packs some stray hair bands and pins into his pockets in case she wants him to play with her hair again. With that out of the way, he sneaks downstairs as inconspicuously as possible, in a vain attempt at leaving without being noticed.   

Alas, it is not his lucky day. In his rush, he forgets about the third step from the bottom that always creaks no matter how lightly you put your foot on it and the resulting squeak revibrates through the house with the power of an exploding bomb, slicing sharply through the ominous silence. His entire body stills mid-step, his mind throwing curses at him as if it wasn’t its own damn fault that it didn’t remind him about the trap in time.

The muffled sounds from the kitchen cease abruptly, effectively crushing his hopes of his misstep going unnoticed. Well, fuck. Resigning himself to his fate, he lets out a sigh and continues his approach at a regular pace.

Rei steps out into the hall just in time to block his way to the front door. If he hadn’t been a witness to it himself, he wouldn’t be able to tell she had a full-on breakdown just a few hours before. Her appearance is pristine, besides maybe the barely noticeable dark circles under her eyes, and her body language doesn’t betray anything unusual either. It’s almost terrifying how well she can hide her gradually crumbling sanity.

She levels him with a stern look, hands propped on her hips. “Where do you think you’re going?”

Ah, so the breakdown did not mean he’s out of trouble. Damn.

“Out,” he says vaguely, unsure how he could even start to explain the whole Toga situation. “A friend needs my help.”

“Well, tell your friend you’re sorry, but you can’t see them today,” she says smoothly, with a noticeable edge to her voice. “You’re grounded.”

“Grounded?” he exclaims in disbelief before he can think about it, the idea so ridiculous he barely stops himself from laughing.

No doubt noticing his incredulousness, his mother’s expression hardens, her back tensing as though preparing for battle.

“Yes. Grounded.” He opens his mouth to argue, because come on, she can’t be serious, but she swiftly cuts him off, “I’ve been very lenient with you until now, Touya. In part because your father was always harsh enough for the both of us and in part because I understood why you did what you did. But there has to be a line somewhere. I can’t keep letting you off with a warning.”

The worst part is, Dabi thinks to himself, there isn’t even anything he can say to disprove her point. Because she’s right, isn’t she? In her eyes at least, he’s a fifteen-year-old boy who talks back to her and sneaks out at night to look for trouble. Grounding him is a perfectly normal reaction, probably even a recommended one. If anything, he should be glad that, despite her fragile mental state, she still has enough confidence in her to establish boundaries and punish him when she deems it necessary.

And he is, really. However, it just makes it suck that much more that he has to disobey her anyway.

“I really need to go,” he insists, aiming for a serious tone and forcing himself not to fidget under her disapproving gaze. “It’s an emergency.”

To her credit, she does hesitate, if not for very long – a brief flash of uncertainty that’s gone in an instant. As in to compensate for that moment of weakness, she crosses her arms over her chest and deepens her frown.

“Whatever it is, I’m sure they can deal with it without your help this once. There need to be some consequences. Maybe next time you will think twice before doing something reckless.”

“Mum, you don’t understand,” he tries again, fully aware it’s pointless to argue, but beginning to grow frustrated nonetheless. Why can’t she just yield and let him go? Why does she need to make it so complicated? He doesn’t want to be disrespectful, and he doesn’t want to hurt her again by disregarding her orders, but the itch in his bones won’t let him rest until he sees Toga and even his mother won’t be able to prevent him from doing just that. “Just let me explain. This friend, he’s a hero and I—”

“I’m not changing my mind about this,” she interrupts him, grey eyes cold and hard like steel. “I will gladly hear a genuine explanation of your recent actions, but it won’t influence your punishment. That’s final.”

A growl falls out of his lips. “You can’t stop me.”

He stills, realizing what he’s just said. Rei stills as well, her voice dropping dangerously low.

“Excuse me?”

Well, if he said A, he should have enough balls to say B, shouldn’t he? There’s this saying that goes something like it’s better to ask forgiveness than permission and sayings are usually created by smart people, so there must be some truth to it. He doesn’t like the idea of being rude to his mother, he really doesn’t, but it’s clear begging isn’t going to work this time.   

“You can’t actually stop me,” he repeats calmly, meeting her eyes with his own dark gaze. It makes her shiver and for a sickening moment, he wonders if she’s seeing him as some twisted reflection of Endeavor right now. Immediately, he softens. “I’m sorry, mum, but I really have to go.”

He moves without waiting for an answer. As he passes her frozen form, she starts, as if with an urge to grab him, but in the end she doesn’t move. He’s almost at the door before her voice makes him halt.

“Touya,” she says sharply, although her voice trembles. “If you leave now…”

“…then what?” he asks quietly, not looking back, something like a challenge in his voice.

She doesn’t answer, so it’s almost like a permission. Not really, but enough that he manages to walk out the door without looking back, even as it slams behind him with a final thud.

***

Guilt gnaws at him all the way to Aizawa’s house, but he pushes it to the back of his mind. He makes one stop, putting Endeavor’s credit card to good work, all the while trying to come up with a good way to make it up to her somehow. So far, nothing smart comes to his mind, but it’s the effort that counts, right?

His leg bouncing impatiently, he rings the bell and waits. Muffled sounds can be heard from the inside and in no time at all, the door flies open, revealing a slightly dishevelled Present Mic.

“Oh, it’s just you,” the hero comments, his shoulders dropping with relief. “Well, don’t just stand there. Come in.”

Dabi raises an eyebrow at the uptight state of the usually cheerful man but follows him inside without a word. Now that he’s not a) bleeding out or b) busy kidnapping a child, he has a chance to truly inspect the interior of the cosy little house and what he finds is sickeningly domestic. There are shoes all over the floor in the hall, a small table overflowing with various knick-knacks, and a bunch of framed pictures decorating the walls. Most of them are simply of Aizawa and Yamada together, but a few include snapshots of what appear to be fun times with their friends, notably a woman he identifies as the hero Midnight and someone he doesn’t recognize – a young, blue-haired boy with a disturbingly familiar smile. 

“Hey, little listener!” Yamada shouts into the ether. “You’ve got a visitor!”

The sound of hurried footsteps effectively pushes any thoughts of the photos to the back of his mind. It only takes a few seconds for Toga to emerge from one of the other rooms and come to a halt in front of them. Her face lights up like a Christmas tree the moment she sees him and her joy is so infectious he’s smiling back before he can even think about it.    

“Dabi! You’re back!”

She basically throws herself at him, crashing into his legs and wrapping her arms around them tightly. The intense wave of fondness assaulting him all of the sudden is enough to temporarily let him forget about the guilt. He lets out a sappy laugh and softly ruffles her hair.

“’Course I’m back,” he says, and the affectionate tone of his voice must be a striking difference from how he usually sounds, because Yamada sends him a very amused look. “I promised, didn’t I?”

She giggles as she nods her head and lets go of his legs. She takes a step back, still beaming at him, with her wide grin showing off her sharp fangs. After taking a moment to survey him more carefully, a curious glint flashes through her eyes and she points at the pink gift bag in his hands.

“What’s that?”

Already feeling smug, he crouches down so they can be on the same eye level and lets a smirk grow on his face. Idly, he notices she’s wearing different clothes than she did when he left – Aizawa or Yamada must have gone to get her some stuff. The yellow sweater is a little loose on her and honestly kind of ugly, but she somehow manages to make it work.

(It reminds Dabi of a similar one he gifted the older Toga for the League’s Secret Santa exchange last year as a joke. It was so hideous he could barely stand to look at it, but, of course, Toga ended up loving it and didn’t take it off until New Year’s Eve.)

“Hm, it depends,” he says mysteriously to the younger Toga, tilting his head as though deep in thought. “Have you been good for Yamada and Aizawa?”

“Yes!” she replies immediately, jumping up and down in excitement. She turns her head to Yamada, who’s observing them with a fond expression. “I’ve been good, right? Tell him! Tell him I’ve been good!”

“She’s been very good,” the man confirms dutifully, causing Toga to brighten up even more.

She turns her big, hopeful eyes back to him. “See?”

Unable to help himself, Dabi laughs again. She’s just too cute.

“Okay, okay, here you go.” He hands her the bag and she grabs it impatiently. She almost tears the bag in her rush to get to the contents, but when she does, she stills. “It’s a teether,” he explains gently, praying in his soul it wasn’t a mistake and he’s not going to spook her again. She stares at him open-mouthed, half in fear, half in wonder. “You know, for your fangs.”

It was a silly idea, maybe, but he wanted to buy her something and when he saw it, he instantly knew he had to get it. It was perfect. It’s a teether, yes, but not just a regular one. It’s pink and glittery and, best of all, it’s shaped to look like a knife. It’s like it was made for her. How could he not buy it?

Her grip on the toy is so tight her knuckles turn white. When she speaks, her voice is quiet and soft, and a little breathless, “Thank you. I love it.”

He ruffles her hair again, ignoring the way she flinches a little at the movement of his hand. Bringing attention to it would only make her embarrassed – he knows it all too well. He also knows it’s a hard habit to break, so it means even more when it doesn’t take her more than a few seconds to ease up and melt into his touch.

“Let’s go to the living room, hm?” he offers, gently combing through her hair. “Then you can tell me all about your day.”

And she does tell him – about the new toys she got, about the cookies Yamada helped her make, about this super cool show she started watching and did he know there is a hero who drinks blood, just like her? He was in a cartoon! And he wasn’t a villain! Doesn’t Dabi think it’s just so cool?

(He doesn’t, but he tells her it’s very cool anyway.)

She makes him sit with her on the fluffy carpet and introduces him to every single toy Aizawa and Yamada bought for her – and man, their salaries must be fucking great, because there’s a lot of them – and he nods solemnly, and shakes hands with each one, even those that don’t have any hands. Her cheerful attitude is contagious, as always, and so Dabi finds his cheeks hurting from smiling so much by the time they’re finished and she decides it’s time to move on to more important stuff.

“Do my hair again!”

He sighs, exaggerating it for good measure, then obediently proceeds to situate himself right behind her. She offers him a tiny plastic doll brush, with an insistence of someone who won’t take no for an answer, so he doesn’t bother arguing. Instead, he digs into his pockets for the collection of accessories he selected to bring.

“Oh, you have thingies!” She claps her hands in delight, her eyes twinkling as she stares at the assortment of cheap bands and pins he mostly stole from shady night stores. “I like the blue one! No, the red one! Or no, the purple! Or—”

“How about we use them all?” he cuts her off, chuckling at her eagerness.

She gapes. “You can do that?!”

So he braids her hair into six separate plaits, which ends up looking rather ridiculous, but requires the use of all the stuff he brought, so it makes her unreasonably happy anyway. Next, she demands he bends down and lets her be the hairstylist instead.

“There are no more bands though,” he reminds her, hoping against hope that fact will be enough to discourage her.

“We will just brush it then!” she chirps in response, raising the doll brush like a weapon, her smile bordering on threatening. “Bend your head, please!”

At least it’s not a knife, he thinks, resigning himself to his fate.

***

At some point, an hour or two into their playing, Himiko’s eyes begin to close, with a yawn interrupting her words every few minutes. She adamantly denies being tired when he points it out, but after a lot of promising to still be here when she wakes up, she allows him to cover her with a soft, green blanket and soon falls asleep on the couch.

A little tired, but buzzing with some unidentified emotion, Dabi embarks on a quest to find Yamada, who fled the moment he was sure they were busy and didn’t need him. It feels sort of weird to snoop around their house like that, but really, it’s Present Mic’s fault for leaving his guests unattended. He checks the kitchen first, but only finds dirty plates in the sink, then the bedroom that turns out to be locked and finally, he arrives at a study, where Yamada is busy… grading papers?

Oh, right. He forgot they are teachers.

“She fell asleep,” he says, causing the man to jump in surprise.

“A little warning next time,” Yamada grumbles. He pulls up his glasses and rubs on his eyes, making stretching circles with his shoulders. “Never become a teacher, I tell you. It’s just work, work, work and no gratitude.” Then he pushes himself back from the desk and rests his chin on the palm of his hand. “Fell asleep, you say? Kid, you’re a miracle worker. I swear she hasn’t closed one eye the entire time she’s been here.”

“She’s just scared,” he feels the need to defend her. “Sleeping in a strange place is hard.”

Yamada’s face twists into this annoying, gentle expression that isn’t quite pity but isn’t quite anything else. “I know. I’m glad she feels safe with you.”

For some reason, Dabi feels the urge to avoid the man’s eyes. “She just latched onto me ‘cause I was the first person who wasn’t a dick to her, that’s all. There’s nothing deep to it.” Clearing his throat, he rushes to change the subject. “Where’s Aizawa anyway?”

The hero’s eyes gleam with amusement, but, fortunately, he decides to let it go. Instead, he gives an unconcerned shrug. “Working. He should be back by seven.”

“Did you get anything done? About Toga, I mean?”

Here, Yamada grimaces, immediately putting Dabi on guard. Did something go wrong? Were they unable to secure custody? Is Toga going to be forced back to her parents?

He will kill the assholes before he lets it happen. Fuck laws, legal ways are for wimps anyway.

“It’s all fine!” Yamada rushes to reassure him, likely noticing his growing concern. “We put in all the paperwork for taking her parents’ custody away, at least temporarily, and there was no issue. The pictures of her injures and the fact ‘we’ found her wandering around town alone in the middle of the night were more than enough to get a positive decision, especially since we’re heroes. Shouta has the papers, so I can’t show them off, but, as of today, we’re officially her temporary guardians.”

“But you were upset about something,” Dabi pushes, his eyes narrowed suspiciously.

Sighing, Yamada sags a little bit in his chair. “Well, I was kind of hoping that maybe Vlad King would agree to take her in. It was a silly idea, he and his wife already have a young kid, but I thought it would be nice for her if she could be raised by someone with a similar quirk, you know? But I called him today and he said he’s very sorry, but he won’t be able to do it.”

Vlad King… oh, the guy from the cartoon? Isn’t he the U.A. teacher his clone fought when they attacked that training camp? Yeah, Dabi vaguely remembers him having some sort of blood-related quirk. He can’t deny that having someone like that in Himiko’s life, someone with the same kind of power as hers and a hero too, would be extremely helpful for her development. But, on the other hand, if his memory serves him correctly, the guy seemed like an uptight asshole, so really, it’s not that much of a loss.

“So what happens now?” he asks, crossing his arms. “You have any other ideas?”

“Not really.” Yamada shrugs helplessly. “There’s regular adoption, sure. But I know how kids with quirks like hers are treated in foster care. It might not be much better than with her parents.”

“I won’t allow that,” Dabi says immediately, muscles tensing.

“None of us wants that. But there’s not much else we can do.”

Now the man is starting to piss him off. What’s with that resigned tone? With that pathetic look? Is that it? Is he just going to give up after one – literally one – of his ideas didn’t work out?

Is that supposed to be this famous ‘Plus Ultra’ the U.A. pricks love so much?

“You promised her,” he reminds the hero sharply, relishing the way Yamada flinches in response. “You promised her she won’t be hurt anymore. Are you just going to go back on this promise?”

The man’s eyebrows crease in what seems like genuine offense. “Of course not. We will keep searching until we find someone we can trust willing to take her in. Until that, she can live here. It’s not a problem.” 

And just like that, the obvious solution appears in Dabi’s mind. Slowly, a smirk stretches on his lips. “Well, then why search for anyone else? Why don’t you two just adopt her?”

If he was expecting Yamada to be shocked or even mildly surprised by the suggestion, he would be sorely disappointed. Instead, the hero gets a strange sort of grimace on his face, something like hesitation mixed with shame. In that moment, sitting in a chair twice his size, illuminated only by the artificial light of his desk lamp, with dark circles under his eyes and hair tangled beyond reason, Dabi sees Yamada as what he is for the first time.

A young man, barely in his twenties, completely in over his head, with too much compassion in his heart for his own good.

“You already thought about it.”

It’s not a question. But Present Mic answers anyway.

“Yes.” He rubs at his temples, then reaches for a cup to take a large sip of what must at this point be cold coffee. “We’ve discussed the possibility before Shouta left. We’ve always known we would want to have children one day and it’s as good an opportunity as any. Himiko is a great kid and at least we know that with us she would never be treated like there’s something wrong with her.”

“But…?” Dabi pushes, because there definitely is a but. 

“But… we are still so young,” the hero says, almost apologetically, staring at Dabi with something painfully earnest in his eyes, as if begging him to understand. “I know that to you we must seem like ancient dinosaurs, but it hasn’t been that long since we were children ourselves. We’re not sure if we’re ready to handle raising a kid right now. And if we’re not, wouldn’t we just end up hurting her more?”

It’s a valid concern, he must admit that. Himiko needs something stable, something that will last, but most of all she needs someone capable of handling her. In his opinion, Aizawa and Yamada seem like they would manage that just fine, especially with already being teachers, therefore having some sort of experience. But he’s only really known Aizawa for a few weeks, while Present Mic he’s met twice before today. He couldn’t possibly say he truly knows them. Maybe, under their tough hero exteriors, they really are nothing more than vulnerable young adults, unsuited for such responsibility.

(Dabi would love to see the look on Yamada’s face if he ever found out Dabi is technically older than him.)

“No one is ever ready to be a parent,” is what he replies with, keeping all the sympathy out of his voice. He aims to sound reasonable and rational, but he’s pretty sure he just ends up sounding like a conceited dick. “You will always feel like you’re not ready. And you will never be ready. Parents learn as they go. Most often, they fuck up. That’s just how it is.”

“Most parents aren’t like your father,” Yamada tells him, carefully, as though afraid Dabi might not have realized not every parent is a disgusting abuser.  

“Yes, because they actually learn from their mistakes,” he replies, exasperated. “Endeavor, on the other hand, never even noticed he was making any. To him, they weren’t mistakes, they were strict parenting strategies.”

“I’m not sure how that’s supposed to make me feel better. It’s just, I feel that I’m—”

Whatever the hero was going to say gets interrupted by the loudest, most aggravating ringtone Dabi has ever heard. Sending Dabi an apologetic look, Yamada hurries to find his phone but for some reason it takes him almost twenty seconds – and yes, Dabi counted.

“Shouta?” he says to the device after finally managing to answer the call, his voice slightly worried. “Everything okay?”

Aizawa spends a long moment explaining something to his husband, but his voice is too quiet for Dabi to hear clearly. Yamada keeps nodding to himself, humming some sort of song under his nose and generally being a fidgety mess. The sight of him makes Dabi’s leg want to bounce, but he forcefully stops the impulse before it can fully blossom.

“Yeah, sure, I can come get you,” Yamada says eventually, voice strained, which instantly peaks Dabi’s curiosity. “No, it’s not a problem. Yeah, your favourite problem child is here. He actually made her fall asleep, can you believe it? Yhm. Sure. I’m on my way. Don’t move from there. Love you, bye.”

Even after finishing the call, the man stares down at the screen of his phone for a long moment before letting out a sigh.

“Trouble?”

“Shouta got himself hit on the head,” Yamada explains stiffly, obviously attempting to seem casual about it while freaking out inside. “Apparently, he needed to call the ambulance for some of the villains, but they insisted on checking him up too and it turns out he’s got a mild concussion. I’ve got to go pick him up. Can you stay here and keep an eye on the little one? It won’t take long.”

“Sure,” he agrees easily, not very eager to get back home anyway. Something about the situation seems off though. “Wait, Aizawa actually called you about getting hurt? Are you sure it’s not a trap?”

A startled laugh escapes the man’s mouth, his body losing some of the tension. “Oh, he didn’t want to. But I’m his emergency contact. They basically told him that if he didn’t call me, they would.”

Dabi snorts. “Yeah, that sounds more like him.”

“Oh.” Yamada smiles wryly. “You have no idea.”

***

In no time, Yamada is gone, which leaves Dabi free to take advantage of his enormous flat screen. With nothing better on, he settles on entertaining himself with reruns of some vaguely funny sitcom. He only manages to get through one episode, though, before Himiko starts squirming in her place on the couch beside him. Evidently, the praise he got for making her fall asleep was premature.

“Dabi?” she mumbles after pushing herself up to a sitting position, rubbing at her puffy eyes with one hand and holding the blanket to her chest with the other. “You’re here.”

“Promised I would be, didn’t I?” She blinks at him, still a bit dazed from sleepiness. He makes sure to smile at her. “Did you get some rest?”

“No.” She pouts, squishing her cheeks with her palms. “Dreams were weird. Didn’t like them.”

“Scary weird? Or just uncomfortable weird?”

“Umcor—unmcom— umcorf—” She scrunches her nose, annoyed at not getting it right, and finally gives up. “The other one.”

“Is that why you didn’t want to sleep?” he asks, aiming to keep his tone inviting and friendly. He doesn’t want this to feel like an interrogation or anything. “Present Mic said you haven’t tried at all.”

Himiko avoids his gaze. “I can’t go to sleep.”

“Why?”

“’Cause,” she mutters, hugging the blanket tighter, “what if I wake up back at home?”

Ouch. Right in the gut.  

“You won’t ever have to go back there,” he promises, maybe a little too vehemently. But he needs her to understand this. “Ever. Not unless you want to. I will make sure of that.”

She raises her hand towards him, her pinky extended shyly. “Promise...?”

He doesn’t hesitate to link her own finger with hers and squeeze. “Promise.”

“Okay.”

She sends him a small smile and he responds by popping her on the nose. It causes a squeak of surprise to fall out of her lips, followed by a giggle. It’s still kind of surreal to have her be a literal toddler when he can still vividly remember her gushing to him about boys and girls she liked and then tell him about all the ways she could murder them. Even so, she’s incredibly adorable. Especially compared to Shouto.

“I take it you like it here then?” It can’t hurt to investigate somewhat. Yamada might be apprehensive, but he clearly already has a soft spot for Himiko. If Dabi truly puts his mind to it, he’s sure he can have the pair sign adoption papers before the week is over.

But only if she wants to.

She hesitates just the slightest bit before nodding shyly. “Mr. Yamada is funny. And Mr. Aizawa is nice. They gave me toys and cocoa, and they didn’t yell at all.”

“Would you like to stay with them?”

She tilts her head thoughtfully. “If I stay, will you visit me?”

“I will visit you no matter where you are.”

Her eyes go big. “You will?”

“You’re not getting rid of me so easily,” he tells her, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “You’re stuck with me now.”

Without a warning, she throws herself at him, burying her face into his chest. He lets out a surprised ‘oof’ but quickly puts his arms around her to return the hug. He pats her head, feeling her curl her fists around the fabric of his hoodie. It should probably worry him, how willing this little girl is to give affection to who is essentially a stranger. But he knows she must be touch-starved. The kind of parents she has, they don’t usually waste time on hugs.

“I want to—”

But he doesn’t get to find out what she wants, because she’s rudely interrupted by the doorbell.

Dabi glances at the front door with a frown. He’s pretty sure Yamada wasn’t expecting any visitors. It could technically be them being back, but he doubts they would be knocking on their own door. It’s not that late yet, right before five or something like that, so he guesses it could be some friend or a co-worker coming by on an unannounced visit. Maybe even a fucking postman. The question is: should he open? Or should he pretend there’s no one home?

“Who’s that?” Himiko asks, her grip on Dabi’s hoodie tightening as she also turns her eyes to the door.

“No idea.” The doorbell rings again, more insistently this time. Suddenly, he has a feeling this is more than a social call. Keeping his exterior as calm as possible, he gently untangles her fingers from his clothing so he can stand up. “I should probably check though, so stay here, okay?”

Himiko nods, reluctantly letting go of him and putting the blanket over herself instead. He ruffles her hair, smiling in what he hopes is reassurance, and directs his steps towards the hall. The doorbell rings again, much longer than the first two times.

Dabi’s frown deepens. Someone’s fucking impatient. Just in case, he flexes his fingers, ready to ignite them in an instant if he needs to. As he arrives at the door, he chances a glance through the peephole.

He’s met with a distorted sight of four people – three men and one woman. Two of the men are in police uniforms. The remaining man and the woman are both dressed nicely, both with bright hair and both with stuck-up expressions. They must be Himiko’s parents, but they could easily be mistaken for siblings.

“Fuck,” he hisses to himself, automatically taking a few steps back from the door and getting into a defensive position.

What to do? He obviously can’t just let them in. Not only will their presence surely distress Himiko, but they might also try to take her away. Yes, Yamada said it was all legal and that they got permission to host her at least until the investigation is over, but, well, the police is here too and they must have gotten this address somewhere.

Shit.

“So? Who is this?” comes Himiko’s curious voice from the living room.

“No one important,” he says, at the same time as the doorbell goes off again, this time accompanied by heavy banging on the door itself.

“Open the door!” someone demands. “We’re from the police!”

Shit, shit, shit, shit. There’s no time to call for help. As quickly as he can, he types a simple message and sends it to Aizawa, because he doesn’t have Yamada’s number. He should probably change that, later, if he doesn’t forget.

“Sir, please, open the door,” the officer repeats sternly. “Otherwise, we will have to get in by force.”

Left with no other choice – Aizawa would definitely kill him if he let some pig ruin his pretty front door – Dabi puts on an indifferent mask and flings the door open, aiming to appear incredibly irritated. Which is not hard, to be honest.

“What the fuck do you want?” he snaps, crossing his arms and staring at the group huddled together on the small porch. “I was sleeping.”

“Good afternoon,” one of the policemen says formally, eyeing his clothes that are clearly not sleeping clothes suspiciously. “My name is officer Huroto Jinkawa and this is my partner, officer Nanami Kaito. We are here about a missing child.” The man reaches into his pocket and pulls out a crumpled picture. “Have you seen this girl?”

“Your name is officer?” Dabi says before he can stop himself, but in his defence, the man walked into that one. Nobody seems amused, so he pushes on in a rush. “Look, this isn’t my house, so I shouldn’t even be talking to you. The owners aren’t home. Come back later.”

For cops, they must not be that stupid, because they definitely notice he doesn’t answer their question. They exchange a look and then the one named Jinkawa narrows his eyes at him.

“The girl in question went missing last night,” he explains, putting a lot of emphasis on the ‘missing’ part. “Her parents are incredibly worried. We have reasons to believe she might reside inside this house. If you know anything, it would be in your best interest to tell us now.”

Worried his ass. The couple seems more annoyed by the inconvenience than anything. Himiko’s mother, tall and imposing, has her lips twisted into a barely noticeable grimace and her nose stuck up high. Her father, a man of perfectly average built, has a possessive arm wrapped around his wife, his small angry eyes scowling at everything and everyone, including the policemen.

“Are you deaf? I’m telling you this is not my house,” he says slowly, like he’s talking to an imbecile. Which, honestly, he probably is. “Besides, I’m a minor. My parents say I can’t talk to strangers. So fuck off.”

“Give back our daughter and we won’t need to talk,” cuts in Himiko’s father, his voice exactly as unpleasant as his personality. “If you cooperate, we won’t press charges.”

“I’m not talking to you, you abusive piece of shit,” Dabi snaps, glaring at the guy with all the murderous intent he can muster. He’s pleasantly tickled when the man flinches slightly. Seems like he still got it. “If you gave a single fuck about your daughter, you wouldn’t let her wander around alone in the middle of the night.”

“So you do know the girl?” officer Kaito asks, completely ignoring everything else that he said that should definitely raise some concerns in him.

“Never said I didn’t.” Dabi shrugs, leaning casually against the threshold as if he could somehow keep them from barging in that way. He makes sure to send them his best unimpressed stare and follows it with a dismissive gesture. “I know all about your shitty parenting. I’ve talked to Himiko. I’ve seen the bruises. I don’t suppose you mentioned that part to the nice policemen here?”

The officers hesitate, exchanging yet another meaningful look that Dabi can’t quite read. The woman tsks, raising her chin even higher. Neither she nor her husband seem in any way remorseful about their abuse. They don’t even appear ashamed of it being revealed.

“We would never hurt our daughter,” the woman says, derision dripping from her words like venom. As if the mere idea was ridiculous. “Do not listen to this child’s lies. Of course he would say that. He’s basically admitted to kidnapping her.”

Jinkawa clears his throat. “These accusations are quite severe. There is no proof that Toga Himiko was abused in any way. You, on the other hand, admitted to having taken her, against her parents’ wishes.” 

“No proof?” He scoffs, disbelieving. “I found her out in the middle of the night, all alone, trying to rob me. What more proof do you need?”

“Children run off sometimes,” Himiko’s father says with a patronising smile. “It happens. You have children, don’t you, officers? A young child craving adventures is hardly abuse.”

“It was around two in the morning when I found her,” Dabi mentions casually. “At what time was she reported as missing?” The silence from the entire group is answer enough. “Ah, so they haven’t noticed their six-year-old daughter was gone for at least ten hours. Yeah, sounds like wonderful parenting to me.”

“It is not your place to judge that,” Jinkawa answers sharply, although his gaze flickers to the couple for a moment, a flash of uncertainty twisting his face. “We’re just looking for her now. Any such accusations can be handled afterwards.”

Realizing he’s not going to reason his way out of this one – he’s not sure why he even tried, they’re cops for fuck’s sake, of course they wouldn’t care – he resorts to the next best course of action:

Lying.

“Well, she’s not here, so you can get the fuck o—”

“Dabi? Who is it?”

Shit. There goes his lie. Himiko’s voice immediately causes the couple to perk up, but instead of relieved they just look smug. Dabi can’t help but imagine how prettily they would scream if he set that perfect blond hair of theirs on fire.

The officers stiffen, their expressions immediately turning gravely serious. Their hands, Kaito’s with noticeably more reluctance, hover over their gun holsters. 

“Please, step aside,” Jinkawa orders, voice hard as steel.

“You don’t have the right—” Dabi tries to argue, but the men are not in a talking mood anymore. They push past him, basically slamming him against the wall, which is very rude and also probably a breach of some sort of rules of conduct. They burst into the sitting room, Himiko’s parents close on their feet. The mother ever takes a moment to smile haughtily at him.

“What…? Dabi!” Himiko shrieks, sounding positively terrified.

“Fuck!” he seethes and hurries after them, the door left wide open and completely forgotten.

When he catches up with them, it’s just in time to see Himiko’s wide eyes start filling with tears as she tries to curl onto herself, the adults advancing on her like a group of wild predators, utterly uncaring about her distressed state. His blood boiling, Dabi grabs Himiko’s father’s arm, harshly, and yanks him back so that he can place his own body between Himiko and the rest of the intruders.

“Stay the fuck away from her,” he growls, the temperature in the room rising significantly in tune with the rush of blood in his veins. His heart is pounding, his mind focused solely on one thing: protect. He promised her she would never have to go back to them and he intends to keep that promise. Even if he has to murder everyone in this room. “Can’t you see she’s fucking terrified?!”

“Step back,” officer Jinkawa demands, while Himiko’s mother starts throwing insults at him.

“Dabi, what’s going on?” Himiko cries, clutching onto his pants like her life depends on it. Which it sort of does, unfortunately. “You—you said I wouldn’t have to go back!”

“You’re not going anywhere, don’t worry,” he attempts to soothe her, placing one hand on her head, the softness in his voice crashing grotesquely with the deadly glare he directs at everyone else. “I won’t let them hurt you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, boy,” Jinkawa scoffs with derision, pursing his lips. “We have no intention of hurting this girl. Stop putting wild ideas in her head and. Step. Aside.”

Unmoved by the threat, Dabi decides it’s time to get serious. “Do you even know whose house this is?”

The father throws his hands, getting visibly impatient. “What does it matter? Whoever it is, they’re a child kidnapper! We will not leave it like that, mark my words, boy. You’re going to regret it.”

“Let’s all calm down, please,” Kaito, evidently the one currently possessing the single braincell this four has between them, attempts to reason. This moment of sensibility is short-lived though, because he immediately follows it with, “Of course we know who lives here. Heroes Eraserhead and Present Mic. But even their statuses as heroes do not permit them to take children away without going through the proper legal procedure.”

“Actually, it does, if they have valid suspicions the child in question might be in immediate danger,” Dabi shoots back triumphantly, delighted to find that some of the things they teach him in that hell school do come in handy sometimes.

“Danger? There was no danger!” the mother exclaims indignantly, but when she takes a step forward, Himiko flinches back. Her expression makes no indication that she notices that or cares. She comes even closer, too close, forcing Dabi to move towards her in warning. She glances at him with mild irritation, like he’s an annoying fly disturbing her afternoon tea, before crouching and smiling sweetly at her daughter. “Himiko, darling, it’s okay now. Mama’s here. You don’t have to be scared of that hooligan anymore. He can’t hurt you now. I know he made you say all these awful things about us, but it’s over now. Come on, love, tell nice Mr. Policeman you want to go home with us.”

Himiko doesn’t move, frozen in place, her big teary eyes fixed on her parents. Her body is trembling, her lips parted slightly as if to protest, but no sound leaves them, all the words caught in her throat by overwhelming fear. Then, her shoulders drop in resignation and her grip on his pants loosens, hand falling lifelessly to her side. The light in her eyes goes out like a sniffed candle.

Seeing the hope bleed out of her like that makes something in Dabi snap. He promised her she would not be hurt anymore. He promised.

He won’t let them make him break his promise.

“Get out.”

He doesn’t yell. He doesn’t curse. His words are nothing more than a whisper. Yet, all four of the intruders stiffen. The officers reach for their weapons again, almost unconsciously.

“Young man, we’ve told you—”

“I said get out.”

“Now—”

“It’s okay,” Himiko says suddenly, her voice cracking, and, although tears are rolling down her face, she offers him a wobbly smile. “I will go. I don’t want you to hurt because of me.”

“Oh, Himiko, sweetheart,” he coos, wiping some of the tears from her cheeks and sending her a sharp grin, “you’ve got it all wrong. If they try to take you away, it won’t be me who’s gonna end up hurt.”

“Alright, that’s enough,” Jinkawa growls, actually taking out the gun this time, and Dabi flexes his muscles, preparing himself to send a nice blast of flames at the asshole. He’s just about to ruin his life again when suddenly, he’s saved by the sound of hurried footsteps capturing everyone’s attention.

It’s a little embarrassing to admit, but Dabi almost cries in relief when Aizawa and Yamada burst into the room, both slightly dishevelled and very out of breath. They take one look at the commotion and, using their hero sense or whatever, seem to instantly realize what’s going on. Their stances remain battle ready, although it’s subtle enough that someone unused to seeing it might not even notice. They are both prepared to defend themselves at a moment’s notice – which makes the quick disapproving glance Aizawa shoots him all the more hypocritical. What was he supposed to do? Let them take her?

Over his dead body.

(Well, theirs, most likely.)

Yamada, proving Dabi’s earlier words about him already having a soft spot for the girl right, takes a moment to glower at Himiko’s parents before addressing the officers. “What’s going on here, eh? Having a little party without us? How rude!”

“Present Mic, sir.” Jinkawa nods stiffly, showing no signs of his previous mocking attitude. Apparently, he’s only interested in terrorizing minors. “We have been informed that you and Eraserhead were responsible for aiding an unlawful abduction of this child. Her parents are here to take her back home.”

“Himiko is already home,” Aizawa replies calmly, not even blinking at being basically called a child kidnapper. “Her parents have officially been recognized as unfit for being her guardians. She is in our care for the foreseeable future.”

“What do you mean ‘unfit’?!” the mother shrieks, causing Himiko to flinch again.

Dabi really, really wishes he could set her on fire.

“That is simply not true,” Jinkawa claims. “You filed the application, but it has not yet been approved. This means—”

“This means nothing, officer, and you know that,” Yamada cuts him off cheerfully. On the outside, he seems to be enjoying this little confrontation, but the hard lines on his body betray that inside, the man is furious. “We found a child wandering alone outside, bruised all over, crying and terrified. She told us her parents hurt her when she’s not being ‘good’. It’s enough grounds for us to temporarily remove her from their care.”

“That is not true!” the mother cries in protest, looking way too offended for someone who knows the accusations against them are true.

“My god, just shut up already,” Dabi spits at her, even as he hugs a shaking Himiko tighter.

“The parents were not properly notified—”

“They will be, most likely in tomorrow’s correspondence,” Aizawa states, sounding bored, as though he’s dealing with one of his troublesome students.

“You don’t have the right!” the father shouts, his face getting redder and redder.

But Aizawa is as unmoved as always. “Actually, we do.” He reaches inside his pocket and takes out a neatly folded piece of paper. After straightening it out, he hands it to the officer. “We’ve only just got it, but it’s legit. Our application was approved. We’re officially Himiko’s legal guardians for the time being.”

Jinkawa reads the document, grits his teeth, then reads it again just to be sure. It seems that there’s nothing left to argue about though, because he deflates, finally pocketing the gun. On his other side, his partner lets out a sigh of relief.

“Well, if that’s the case, we will not bother you anymore.” The man appears pained as he says this, handing the paper back rather violently. He shrugs at Himiko’s parents. “Sorry, but they do have it all approved. There’s nothing we can do. Now, your only option is proving in court that these allegations are false.”

“What? Of course they’re false! You can’t just take our daughter away! Who do you think you are?”

“Someone who doesn’t hit children, for one,” Aizawa deadpans, causing the woman to flush.

“Now, I’ve had enough of this disrespect!” Himiko’s father huffs, sticking his chin up. He points a threatening finger at the pair of heroes. His face is marred by a deep frown, making him even uglier than he is naturally. “We will meet you in court and we will get our Himiko back. You heroes think you can do whatever you want, but I won’t let you get away with this.” He turns to his wife and commands, “Come, honey, we are leaving.”

Having said that, he gifts them all with one more glare and marches out of the house.

“You will regret this!” the woman hisses, almost hitting Dabi with her saliva, and stomps after her husband.

Once they leave, everyone is silent for a very long moment. Aizawa and Yamada are busy giving the officers twin glares – it’s never been more obvious that these two were made for each other. Dabi is rubbing Himiko’s back, whispering a litany of whatever reassurances he can think of in her ear. The girl relaxes the slightest bit after her parents leave, but she’s definitely not back to how she was before.

The stress she’s been through cannot be good for her. And her parents coming here will not help with her sleeping problem, that’s for sure. But maybe, just maybe, the fact that they came here and yet could not take her back will make it easier for her to believe them when they tell her she’s safe now.

Kaito clears his throat awkwardly. “We will be going too.” He pauses and eventually adds, “We apologize for the trespassing.”

“It’s not us you should be apologizing to,” Yamada says, crossing his arms. “I must say, I did not like the way you treated Himiko and Da—em, Touya.”

“The Chief will hear about this,” Aizawa promises darkly, putting on this weird creepy smile of his. “I’m sure he will be interested to know you tried to threaten a teenager with a gun after breaking into the house he was in, all without even double checking all your facts.”

Both men pale considerably. Dabi is a little confused at their reactions – what were they expecting? – but then he remembers Aizawa is not yet the established underground hero he was in the future, and so the men most likely assumed him to be an easy target. Which backfired on them rather spectacularly. Serves them right for becoming cops in the first place, really. And also for being dicks to children.

“Now, Eraserhead, this is all just a big misunderstanding.” Jinkawa cracks a nervous smile, attempting to smooth the situation over. Kaito nods emphatically. “We’re really sorry for acting rash. But we take child safety very seriously.”

“I’m sure,” Aizawa comments dryly, but doesn’t follow it with any other threats.

“I think it really would be best if you left,” Yamada adds, with this scary, sharp-edged smile of his.

The policemen don’t need to be told twice. They repeat apologies the entire way to the door and then some more, up until Aizawa slams the door in their faces. Once the lock snaps in place, the entire house breathes a sigh of relief. It’s over. They’ve won.

But Himiko won’t stop shaking.

“Hey, you okay?” Dabi murmurs gently, brushing back the hair that got stuck to her wet face. Her lower lip is trembling pitifully and her red-rimmed eyes don’t seem to take any breaks in producing more tears. “I know it must have been scary. Sorry about that. I shouldn’t have opened the door.”

She shakes her head. “No, no, it’s—it’s okay.”

“I don’t think it is,” he tells her softly. “It’s okay if you’re scared. I know I would be.”

“I thought they would take me back,” she whispers, voice cracking in the middle.

He makes sure to look into her eyes. “I promised I wouldn’t let them.”

And with that she bursts into sobs again, throwing her arms around his neck and burying her head into his shoulder. Not sure what else to do, he just holds her through it, rocking them a little, which is sort of hard to do, but seems to be helping, so he does it anyway.

“You can’t be left alone for one hour without getting yourself in trouble, can you?” Aizawa sighs, legs giving up under him and forcing him to fall onto the couch ungracefully. Yamada snickers to himself, then escapes to the kitchen like a coward.

Dabi feels justified in giving Aizawa a dirty look. “You’re really going to victim-blame me about this?”

In his arms, Himiko’s breath hitches, so he proceeds to rub her back to try to soothe her. Aizawa stares, unimpressed.

“Someone needs to take the dictionary away from you.”

Exhaling sharply through his nose, Dabi finds himself cracking a half-smile. He puts his hands under Himiko’s armpits and although she turns out to be heavier than he anticipates, he manages to lift her and prop her on his hip. The girl lets out a small gasp, grabbing onto his hoodie for dear life, so he shushes her softly.

As he carries her to the couch, he turns back to Aizawa. “Come on, don’t say you’re scared of some smart words.”

“They’re only smart when they’re said by someone intelligent.”

He throws himself onto the couch next to the man, positioning Himiko comfortably in his lap. His face contorts into a theatrical grimace. “Ouch, harsh. The concussion must be a bitch, huh?”

Aizawa levels him with the most harried look you could imagine on a human being. “I assure you, dealing with your bullshit is worse.”

Dabi chuckles, just as Yamada appears back, carrying two steaming cups in his hands. The sweet aroma of cocoa hits his nostrils and he sighs in bliss, just the smell being enough to help his muscles relax even further. The mental image of the rich, chocolaty flavour filling his mouth almost makes him moan out loud. Maybe Yamada should be his favourite hero after all.

The man puts on a bright smile as if his own cheerfulness could chase away Himiko’s tears, Aizawa’s exhaustion or Dabi’s murderous fury. It’s not entirely genuine, of course – in fact, the over-the-top grin sort of reminds him of Hawks and his perfect TV hero smiles – but Dabi understands it’s just as much of a coping mechanism for Yamada as their cutting banter is for him and Aizawa.

“Here, I thought you could use some,” Yamada says gently, crouching a bit to be more at Himiko’s level. He offers her one of the cups, the one with a goofy cartoony cat on it. “You were very brave, little one. We’re sorry you had to experience that.”

Slowly, Himiko uncurls from Dabi’s embrace, raising her head a little to aim her glistening eyes at Yamada. The cocoa instantly catches her attention and it’s enough for some colour to return to her cheeks. She takes the cup from the hero and Dabi instinctively rushes to stabilize it in her grip so she doesn’t end up spilling the hot liquid all over them both. She takes a tentative sip, then sighs in pleasure, her lips curving into a small smile.

“Thank you.”

Busy being relieved that this shitshow did not ruin their progress completely, Dabi doesn’t notice at first that the second cocoa is quietly given to a droopy-eyed Aizawa. But when he eventually does, he is forced to reevaluate his earlier statement. Yamada is officially a disgusting traitor and Dabi’s second most hated hero.

The two men are whispering something to each other, something that Dabi could probably overhear if he tried, but he respects them enough to grant them some privacy. It’s probably some lovely-dovely mushy feelings married talk anyway, which his pathetically single ass is not interested in hearing. Instead, he steals a sip of the chocolaty deliciousness from Himiko’s cup, making her giggle when it ends up staining a brown moustache over his upper lip.

“Hey, Dabi?” she asks after a pleasant moment of companionable silence, her eyes locked on her fidgeting hands.

He hums to show her that he’s listening, his fingers playing idly with her hair.

“Do you think she meant it?” she mumbles, her voice a mixture of shame and fearful hope.

“Who?” he inquires, then realizes there’s only one person she can have in mind. “Your mum?”

Himiko nods, biting her lip, her hands busy toying with the strings of his hoodie. “When she called me love… and said she wanted me back… D’you think she meant it?”

Dabi can feel Aizawa’s and Yamada’s concerned looks directed his way. They don’t want to cut in, he knows, because Himiko explicitly asked him, not them, but they’re probably also dreading what he might answer. All they see her as is a scared, abused child, still holding some level of love for her parents despite their abysmal treatment of her, and hoping they might love her back one day, if only she could be good enough. A hope that can be shattered oh so easily. A hope they most likely don’t want him to shatter – not yet.

But Dabi knows Himiko. She might be a terrified child now, but she’s still Toga. His little sister wouldn’t want him to lie to her about this, even if the truth may hurt.

“She wanted you back because having their child taken away would make them look bad,” he replies, holding eye contact with the girl and keeping his voice calm to make it as easy for her as possible. “She is a bad mum and she lied to you to make you come back. She didn’t mean any of it. Nothing would change if you went back with them. They would still treat you like shit. You know that.”

“Dabi,” Aizawa growls in warning, but Dabi doesn’t pay him any mind. His attention is fully on Himiko.

The girl sits still for a long moment. Her eyes, red-rimmed from her previous breakdown, remain dry this time. She stares at him with intensity unusual for a child, as though searching for any signs of doubt or insincerity. When she doesn’t find it, she deflates, nodding her head in sorrowful acceptance. 

“I wish they could love me,” she whispers. Dabi’s fists clench in barely restrained anger. He really should have killed these assholes when he had a chance. “What did I do? Why can’t they like me as I am?”

Why, indeed. Doesn’t every kid ask themselves this same question? What should I do to make you want me? What can you do, when the mere act of you being born is already considered a mistake? How can you earn the love you crave so much from the people who never had any to give in the first place?

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Himiko,” he tells her, continuing to stroke her hair. She squeezes her eyes, falling forward and burying her head in his chest. “You’re perfect exactly as you are. If your parents can’t see that, fuck them. You’re better off without them.”

“Fuck them,” the girl repeats, mumbling the words into the material of his hoodie.

Aizawa sighs. “You’re never babysitting again.”

Chapter Text

Try as he might, Dabi knows he can’t hide in Aizawa’s house forever.

Himiko took hours to completely calm down, clinging to him for dear life and tensing any time he so much as glanced towards the door. Taking it for the excuse he needed, he entertained her as well as he could, hoping to chase away the dark cloud that still seemed to hover over her head. Aizawa passed out almost immediately after finishing his half-hearted lecture about opening the door to strangers, attempting to use his quirk on figures of authority (a big no-no, apparently) and child-appropriate language, leaving Yamada to prepare them all some food. He turned out to be a decent cook – which makes sense, considering his husband seems like the sort of person who could burn water – and so they ate dinner together and exchanged some meaningless small talk.

But the time went on and before he noticed, it was completely dark outside. Himiko’s eyelids started drooping and even though she was still extremely reluctant, she eventually fell into a restless sleep, leaving Dabi and Yamada alone in a quiet sitting room.

“I should get going,” Dabi exhales after a moment, covering his face with his hands and rubbing his temples. The acidic taste of guilt in his throat comes back with doubled strength as he thinks about facing his mother back at home. “It’s getting late.”

He gets up and is about to start gathering his things when Yamada’s voice stops him.

“Wait a moment.”

The man also stands, putting himself between Dabi and the door. The expression on his face is serious, no sight of the previous cheerful front he insisted on putting on.

“What?” he replies with irritation that is mostly exaggerated.

In reality, he will happily welcome every additional second that separates him from having to go home. However, if Yamada knew that, he would certainly be very annoying about it, so the only logical solution is to pretend to be inconvenienced. It wouldn’t do to make the man think Dabi likes their company, after all.

Yamada fidgets, unusually nervous. “I wanted to apologise. For leaving you alone with her and, you know, not accounting for something like this to happen. I know what Shouta said and he’s kind of right that you shouldn’t have opened the door, but it’s my fault for forcing you to even have to make that decision. So I’m sorry. I should have never put you in that position.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Dabi scowls at him. “You couldn’t have known any of this would happen.”

“It’s not an extraordinary assumption that parents would try to take their child back,” Yamada retorts, apparently very keen on taking the blame for other people’s actions. “Even abusive ones.”

“And how were you supposed to know they would do that exactly during this one hour you would be away?” Dabi challenges, folding his arms and sticking out his chin. “Don’t be stupid. Shit happens. We dealt with it. End of story.”

At that, Yamada laughs, shaking his head. “You’re really not even going to let me apologise?”

“I told you, there’s nothing to apologise for.” Then, his face twists into a grimace and he points an accusing finger at the hero. “Except for not making me cocoa. That was a dick move.”

Caught completely off guard, Yamada splutters. “I only have two hands!”

Dabi glares at him a little more, but eventually just rolls his eyes. They exchange a few more hushed words, mostly meaningless banter, while Dabi texts his chauffeur to come pick him up. Soon after, he says his final goodbyes, once again shaking off Yamada’s attempts at apologizing and promising to come by again soon.

The heaviness in his chest threatens to suffocate him as the door to their house closes behind him, the only relief being the biting chill of the cold evening air.           

***

Shutting the car door behind him with a little more force than necessary, Dabi straightens his back as he prepares himself for what’s undeniably going to be an unpleasant confrontation. There’s a small bouquet of flowers in his hand, a rehearsed version of an apology in his head and a lot of determination buzzing through his veins. It’s time. Time to take accountability for his actions, time to make amends with his mother, and, perhaps most importantly, time to finally acknowledge the elephant in the room that has been haunting them all for way too long. Hopefully, by the end of the evening, they can take it back to the jungle where it belongs.

(Elephants probably don’t naturally live in a jungle, but you get the point. Dabi has no idea about biology. Or geography. Whatever.)

Jokes aside, the prospect of this talk unnerves him even more than the one with his father did. At least the one with Endeavor was easy. Especially because he didn’t give a shit about offending him. But how on earth do you get your mother’s forgiveness for being a dick and also tell her she desperately needs to get therapy in the same conversation without it blowing up in your face? He’s about to find out.

For once, the house isn’t completely dead and quiet as he comes in, and Dabi has a hard time deciding if it’s a good or a bad thing. Taking off his shoes, he strains his ears to get a better idea of what’s going on. Unfortunately, all he hears is TV playing loudly in the living room and an occasional burst of laughter.

“Are you having fun without me?” he asks teasingly as he walks into the room, startling all three of his siblings, who are sitting together on a couch, eating pizza, and watching Scooby Doo. At least he assumes all of them get startled – you can never know with Shouto and his default stone-cold demeanour.

“Yes.”

“Yup.”

“Absolutely.”

What a bunch of little monsters. Treating their beloved older brother like this. After all he’s done for them! Totally unfair.

“Fuck you too,” he mutters, pretending to be offended. (He’s just pretending, for real. It’s not like he’s actually upset about it. He’s an adult.) Coming closer, he shoots a look at the half-empty pizza box. “Is that your dinner for today?”

“Mum said she wasn’t going to cook today cause she’s not in the mood,” Natsuo explains while at the same time stuffing his mouth with a slice of said pizza.

Again, Dabi isn’t sure what to feel about this. He would like to believe this is Rei starting to rebel a little, which would be amazing, but it’s also equally possible he’s made her so miserable she really wasn’t in any state to cook.  

“I told her I could cook something but she said no and told us to choose what we wanted to order,” Fuyumi adds, wiping the grease from her fingers with a napkin. While the boys seem happy enough with the situation, Fuyumi clearly suspects something is going on. “Shouto said pizza and nobody protested.”

“Is there any left for me?” he asks, raising an eyebrow at the rather unimpressive leftovers in the boxes. He doesn’t really care that much – if he wanted pizza he could just go buy (or steal) some for himself – but he’s curious if anyone actually thought about him.

“Nope,” Natsuo replies, grinning at him devilishly. “Mum said you were naughty and that you don’t get pizza as a punishment.”

Okay, yeah, that’s fair.

“I think she ordered a salad for you, it’s in the kitchen,” Fuyumi adds, with just as much amusement in her twinkling eyes and smugly raised corner of her mouth.  

“Salad? That doesn’t sound so bad,” he says, frowning. Maybe for a real fifteen-year-old it would be something worth being called a punishment, but Dabi is not Hawks. He knows vegetables aren’t going to kill him.

Shouto pulls his gaze away from the TV and directs it at Dabi instead. In a flat voice, he says, “It’s a tuna salad.”

Monsters, all of them.

Swallowing back the bile that threatens to leave his mouth in a particularly ungraceful way, he shivers in disgust, face twisting into a grimace. “You’re all sick.”

“See? Mum was right, look at his face! He’s all green!” Natsuo laughs, poking Fuyumi’s arm.

“Ha, ha,” Dabi deadpans, rolling his eyes. “Speaking of mum, where is she? I need to talk to her.”

Natsuo wiggles his eyebrows. “Are the flowers for her? Are you going to grovel?”

“She’s upstairs,” Fuyumi informs him, both of them ignoring Natsuo’s taunts. There’s a hint of worry in her otherwise calm voice though, which instantly raises the hair on Dabi’s arms. Especially when she’s even more hesitant to continue, giving him a look of trepidation, as though expecting him to blow up the moment the words leave her mouth, “I think… I think dad wanted to talk to her.”

In any other situation, maybe he would. There’s still a small flash of concern in his gut, because his mother and father alone in one room are never not going to be a nightmare scenario, but he remembers Endeavor’s promise to talk to Rei about the divorce and what they can decide on, so it’s not like it’s unexpected. Dabi just didn’t think his father would get to it so quickly.

“Okay, thanks,” is all he says before directing his steps towards the stairs.

“I really don’t think you should interrupt them,” Fuyumi calls after him, half-standing up and biting her lower lip nervously.

“I need to talk to her too.”

“We were just joking,” Natsuo adds, his eyebrows scrunched as his eyes dart between Fuyumi and Dabi. “It’s a regular salad, chicken I think. Don’t be mad at her.”

Dabi can’t help but snort, smiling fondly. “It’s not about the salad. And I’m not mad.”

“Touya…”

“And,” he cuts her off, with just a bit more edge in his tone, “if there’s any truth in his talk about atonement, father won’t be either. I have some things to tell him as well.”

As he makes his way upstairs, the only things following him are his siblings’ hushed whispers and Scooby Doo’s iconic laughter.

***

Logically assuming that any serious conversations with Endeavor would be happening in his office – such a prideful man wouldn’t be able to get vulnerable in a place where he didn’t feel at least a little in control – that’s where Dabi goes.

The door are shut closed, which is not surprising, but still gives him a pause. Maybe Fuyumi was right that it wouldn’t be a great idea to interrupt them, especially if they’re talking about what Dabi believes they are. The thought of his mother alone in a closed room with Endeavor still causes his stomach to churn unpleasantly, a million terrible scenarios flashing through his mind, but in the end, their marriage is kind of their personal business, isn’t it? Yes, he’s been meddling with it pretty seriously recently, knowing that it’s for their own good – or at least Rei’s – but they are both adults and they might not want their teenage son involving himself more than absolutely necessary. Well, Rei might not want that. He couldn’t give a shit what his father wants.

Still, now that he’s here, standing in front of the door, he starts feeling a little awkward. After considering the matter for a while longer, he comes to a decision that the best course of action will be to give them a few more minutes and then come in. Maybe it’s not something he should do, but he can’t help but want to be there for at least some part of this conversation. Who knows what Endeavor might try to push on her without supervision.

He plays with his phone for a moment, checking his Instagram feed and exchanging some memes with Keigo, hoping no one will exit the room early only to see him loitering there like an idiot. After about five minutes pass, Dabi gets tired of waiting and gathers enough guts to knocks on the door.

No response. He knocks again. Nothing. No ‘come in’, no ‘go away’, not even ‘kiss my ass’. Worried, his heart already speeding up even without any logical reason, he throws politeness out of the window and bursts into the office, almost afraid to find out what might be happening inside.

Turns out, there’s nothing happening inside.

“What the hell,” he mutters to himself, frowning at the empty room. He was so sure they would be here. But if they’re not, then where…?

Carefully, he closes the door again, feeling a bit stupid. Turns out he’s been standing there for no reason, once again proving that being considerate and listening to Fuyumi’s advice is worthless. He should have known better. Back in the League, there was no knocking and everyone was happy.

(Well, he was happy. Some people not so much, like Spinner, who walked in on him and Hawks way too many times not to end up traumatized. But, hey, it kinda was his fault, wasn’t it? Anyone smart would have learned after the first time.)

With that thought in his mind, he wanders the long corridors until he stops just before Rei’s bedroom. Here, the door isn’t entirely closed – there’s a small crack left open. Through it, Dabi can see that Rei is sitting on her bed, her expression a mix between shock and apprehension. Endeavor isn’t visible, since he’s presumably standing in front of her, but his voice is loud and clear.

“… and that is all I wished to say. Take your time to think about it. There is no rush. I will support any decision you make, you have my word.”

“Your word never held much meaning before,” Rei comments quietly, not as an accusation but simply stating a fact.

Dabi can’t see it, but he likes to think Endeavor must have flinched at that.

“That… is true. I do not know if I can do anything to convince you of my sincerity. But I am sincere. You do not have to fear me anymore.”

Rei’s expression makes it quite clear she doesn’t believe him, but she nods nonetheless. Dabi isn’t sure if he’s made some noise or if his mother can just feel his gaze on her, but she turns her head slightly and locks her eyes with his. Caught, he smiles sheepishly, which seems to take away some tension from her shoulders.

She turns back to Endeavor, hands trembling slightly but her head held up high.

“I will think about what you said. You will have my answer soon enough. But now, I would ask you to leave.”

There’s a moment of silence, as if Endeavor wants to say something more, but, in the end, he doesn’t. Maybe this is his way of finally starting to respect his wife’s wishes. Maybe he’s just too much of a coward to say whatever he wants to say.

Dabi takes a few steps back just in time to avoid being hit by the door as his father exits the room. Surprise flashes on the man’s face at the sight of him, although it quickly turns into displeasure, and finally settles on resigned acceptance. Dabi nods in acknowledgement, but keeps his expression cold. He knows Endeavor is searching for his approval, whether consciously or not, and he doesn’t want him to feel proud of something as basic as not being a dick to his own wife.

Clearing his throat, the man turns slightly to send Rei one last look. “For what it is worth, I truly am sorry. And I will repeat it as many times as I need to.”

That said, Endeavor straightens himself and walks away without another glance at either of them. He’s not quite running, but his steps are considerably louder than usual. Soon, he reaches his office and shuts the door behind himself with a loud thud.       

Seems like there’s a limit to how much emotional vulnerability his father can endure in two days. Dabi tries very hard not to think about the man’s words from yesterday, but they seem to taunt him now. They truly are similar in some aspects, it appears.

Still, tired of all these emotional talks or not, Dabi has a mission here that he can’t turn his back on, no matter how much he wants to. What’s his comfort worth compared to saving his mother’s future?

Feeling a little guilty about being caught eavesdropping, especially since he’s kind of currently on her bad side, he hesitantly knocks on the open door instead of coming in right away. He might think it’s essential for them to have this conversation now, but he would still like to give her a choice. God knows she did not get that often.

Despite looking exhausted, she offers him a weak smile and waves him inside. There’s something different in her eyes now, when she looks at him – they’re softer, maybe even a little sad. And loving, so very loving. It’s an uncomfortable contrast to the coldness and anger and horror from the past few days.

Dabi closes the door behind himself, avoiding her gaze. He considers sitting beside her on the bed, but the idea feels wrong. He wants to be face to face with her for this talk. He needs her to understand how important this it.

He grabs a chair, puts it in front of her and sits tentatively. He forces himself to raise his head and meet her eyes. She stares back at him silently, expectantly. She knows he has a lot to say and she waits. He opens his mouth, a million things on the tip of his tongue.

But suddenly, his throat seems clogged, unable to produce any sound. All the words, all the clever speeches he had planned so meticulously lost and turned to dust; his mind infuriatingly blank.

Clearly noticing his struggling, Rei places her hand on his. It’s cold, her palm, especially against his natural warmth, against the fire burning under his skin. The sensation is almost painful, but it serves its purpose. Dabi can feel his muscles relaxing, the tension he didn’t even realize was there flooding out of him easily.

Pleased with herself, Rei turns her head to stare at something out of the window. Dabi doesn’t follow her gaze, because he knows he won’t be able to see whatever she’s looking at. They stay like this for a while, just sitting silently, holding hands. It’s peaceful in a way Dabi can’t remember ever experiencing with his mother. It’s clear the conversation with Endeavor changed something in her. Not fixed anything, maybe, but changed just enough for some of the heaviness to leave her aura.

When it becomes obvious he isn’t going to say anything, she lets out a sigh, her smile dimming. Her expression turns wistful, her eyes distant, lost somewhere in the depths of her mind.      

“He apologized, you know?” she whispers, voice emotionless except for the tiniest undertone of shock. She doesn’t look away from the window. “He actually apologized.”

Oh, he did, did he? How fucking merciful of him. It’s sick that him apologizing is enough to cause such a reaction. It shouldn’t be like this. But Dabi can’t blame his mother for how unsettled it seems to have made her. After all, Endeavor doesn’t apologize. He knows more than anyone how impossible it must seem to her.

It doesn’t mean he’s not fucking bitter about it though.

“For trying to hit you?” he scoffs, regretting it only a little when his mother winces. At least the familiar anger is enough to let him find his voice again. “Wow, congratulations.”

He expect her to admonish him for his behaviour, but she barely reacts to the harshness. The disbelieving expression remains on her face as she slowly shakes her head. “For everything,” she corrects him. Her hands are still shaking, even though the rest of her body is almost too still. “Our marriage, how he treated me, how he treated you… He really seemed sorry. He seemed like he meant it.”

Dabi huffs, even as the uncomfortable memory of Endeavor’s red-rimmed eyes flashes through his brain. The man is a good actor, he will give him that.

“Do you believe him?” he asks gently, genuinely curious. Out of everyone in their family, Rei’s experience is the closest to his. She’s the only one who can truly understand what it means to hate Endeavor more than anything. Can she believe him, even after everything he’s done to her?

It takes her a while to respond.

“I don’t know,” she whispers, sounding confused. Maybe even frustrated.

Dabi lets another silence engulf them as he considers his next question.

“Does it change anything?” he says just as quietly, scared that if his voice is any higher, something between them might break. Even so, he needs to know. He needs to. “If he’s telling the truth?”

This time, Rei takes almost an entire minute to reply. Dabi doesn’t rush her.

“I don’t know,” she finally says, even quieter.

(But it sounds like a no.)   

“You don’t have to forgive him, you know,” he tells her softly and she blinks, surprised enough to actually look at him. He offers her a sad smile. “Even if he’s really sorry or whatever. I think we both know, in his case, sorry isn’t enough.”

She blinks at him again, but doesn’t reply. It’s a bit nerve-wracking, a bit scary, but it’s too good of a segue not to take advantage of it. Besides, the longer he puts it off, the more tempting it will be to not go through with it at all.

“But,” he continues, licking his lips nervously as he offers her the flowers, “I hope you will be able to forgive me, for how much of an ass I’ve been to you recently. I’m really sorry, mum. I know I messed up yesterday and you were right to punish me. I shouldn’t have acted the way I did this morning, even if the thing I had to do was an emergency. It’s not an excuse and I will accept whatever punishment you give me without any arguing. I never meant to hurt you, but I did, and I’m very sorry.” 

By the end of his speech, Rei’s mouth is half-open, her eyes wider than usual. She takes the flowers from him with shaking hands, sniffs at them tentatively, and then puts them on the bed next to herself. Through all of this, her gaze is fixed on him, and he needs to fight the instinct to fidget under such an intense look. Her expression doesn’t betray much about how inclined she is to accept his apology.

And then, abruptly, she snaps out of whatever weird mood she’s been in. The fog clears from her eyes and she smiles at him, smiles down at the flowers, and, for the first time in a long time, it’s a real, wide, hopeful smile. The sweet kind, the kind that screams love, the one that makes him feel all warm inside.

“I want to thank you, Touya,” she says and this time her voice is loud and clear. It’s Dabi’s turn to blink at her in confusion. “For doing what I couldn’t. For being brave when I wasn’t. For fighting when I’ve long given up.”

“W-What...? Don’t say that. It’s not true.”

“Isn’t it?” she asks, still smiling, although now there’s a self-depreciating twist to it. “I could never do what you’ve done. I was too scared, a pathetic excuse of a mother. But you?” She looks at him with something like awe, the way you would look at someone who’s just performed some impossible miracle. “You fought him and you won.”

Something is stuck in his throat, something with sharp edges. He doesn’t know what to do with himself, how to act faced with this sort of look directed at him.

“I’m not sure I won anything,” he says, letting his voice reflect the uncertainty he feels.

“You made him agree to a divorce,” Rei retorts, her hand squeezing his to make a point. “And I get to keep all of you. It’s more than I’ve ever dreamed I would get. So don’t you dare apologizing. You’ve more than made up for it.”

His heart clenches painfully as he stares at her smile, at the hope glowing in her eyes. The inside of his mouth feels like acid at the realization that Endeavor has not told her everything about their deal. The thought of crushing her joy is nauseating and yet he knows he has to.

“That’s not exactly what we agreed on,” he says carefully, avoiding her eyes. “There is a condition to his agreement. He, ah, he didn’t tell you?”

Instead of being worried, like he expects her to be, she scoffs, her lips pinched. She looks disappointed… in him.

“You mean this silly idea about you staying here with him while we go?” she asks, eyebrows rising. Her tone makes it clear how absurd she finds this notion. “No, love, this is not happening. You must not think very highly of me if you think I would ever agree to leave you behind.”

“That’s not—” he stutters, suddenly feeling exactly like a child they all see him as. “I didn’t mean to— He wouldn’t have agreed otherwise!”

“Oh, he tried to convince me,” she tells him, her dry tone letting him know that she was not impressed with Endeavor’s reasoning. “Said a lot of things that I’m sure sounded sensible to him. He even promised he would treat you well, but then again, why would I believe his promises? No, darling, I told him I would leave with all of you or not at all.”

“What? But that’s stupid,” he blurts, brain struggling to understand his mother’s train of thought. Couldn’t she see it was the best way? Dabi would be fine. He’s the oldest, after all, and he’s tough. It was her and his siblings that needed to get away. “You could be free! Fuyumi, Natsuo, Shouto, they all could be free. You could actually be happy! That’s all I care about! Why would you throw it away for me, when I was the one who proposed this idea in the first place?”

“Touya, love. I know you don’t want to stay here. I won’t have you sacrifice yourself for us, no matter how much you seem to want to. I wouldn’t be a good mother if I let you do that.”

“So you’re going to let your other children suffer? For what? So you don’t feel guilty?”

He doesn’t mean to sound cruel, he’s promised himself he wouldn’t hurt her anymore, but frustration twists his words into something ugly. A strange weight grows inside his chest, almost suffocating, and he has no idea how to get rid of it. He’s so confused and angry, and everything else at once. It sort of feels like the floor has just been taken away from under his feet and he’s falling, falling, falling, just waiting to hit the ground.

Rei does not appear insulted or angry. Her expression is gentle, her movements slow – this time it’s her who’s dealing with a wild animal. She leans closer, looking at him with love and understanding, and raises her hand to softly caress his cheek.

“Darling, do you even know what you’re asking me to do? You want me to admit I don’t love you as much as I love your siblings. That you’re worth less to me than them.”

He opens his mouth to protest, but she shushes him.

“I’m your mother, Touya. I am the one who’s supposed to sacrifice myself for you, not the other way around. I could never ask you to do this. I don’t want you to do this. We’re a family and family does not leave anyone behind.” 

“You’re making it sound so much more serious than it is,” he accuses her, even as the weight in his chest gets heavier, making it harder and harder to breathe.

“I’m really not. But even if we ignore all that, do you really think it would be freedom?”

“What do you mean?” 

“You want us to leave so your father doesn’t have any power over us anymore, correct? What is you staying here if not him struggling to retain some of that power? Do you think we could ever be free with you as his hostage?”

“No,” he whispers, feeling the fight draining out of him. He knows she’s right and that she means well, but he still feels like he’s failed them somehow.

“Just so we’re clear though, this is the logical reasonable reason I knew would be most likely to get through to you,” she continues with a cheeky smile. “The main and most important reason is still that I love you just as much as your siblings and I will not stand for treating you like it’s not true.” She sticks out her chin. “That’s also what I told your father.”         

Blinking rapidly, his throat dry, he croaks, “And what did he say?”

She waves her hand dismissively, like Endeavor’s opinion on this is some insignificant detail. “At first he argued, of course, but I managed to get my way. I figured, if you could fight for all of us for so long, the least I could do in return is fight for you for once.” She pauses, then a smug smile stretches her lips. “A little emotional manipulation definitely helped. After that, he folded like a piece of paper.”

Dabi must look like an idiot, staring at his mother in shock, mouth hanging open. Who is this woman? When did she get like this? He’s so confused.

“So what, he just agreed to let us all go? No catch?” he can’t help but sound dubious.

She hums. “Something like that. He said he’s fine with you living with me, but he still wants shared custody. He wants visits. He wants us to spend holidays together, stuff like that. I’m willing to agree to that, but only if he proves he’s actually serious about atoning. We decided to wait with the divorce until I’m convinced one way or another. Then, I will either accept his terms or find a good lawyer.”

Dabi resists an urge to hiss in frustration. She makes it sound so sensible, but all she’s saying is that nothing will change. That she’s ‘waiting’ as if she truly needed to see anything more. She’s probably just scared to actually take the big step, now that it’s available to her. She’s stalling, justifying it with this bullshit. Leaving Endeavor would be turning her life upside down. No wonder she’s looking for a reason to delay it, even if she’s only setting herself up for more misery.

“What else do you need to see? Wasn’t what happened at the museum enough?”

This time, she flinches a little, her face darkening. “I know you don’t believe him. I don’t think I believe him either. But if he is serious, if he can change… Don’t you think your siblings deserve to have a father?”

Dabi sighs, because this is a conversation he’s already had many times. It’s something he himself acknowledged during his confrontation with Endeavor. He’s too tired to argue about this again. This talk is already completely throwing him off and he didn’t even get to what he actually wanted to discuss.

“I guess.”

“It won’t be for long,” she assures him, correctly identifying the reason for his dissatisfaction. “Just a few weeks.”

Just a few weeks shouldn’t sound like such a long time, especially compared to the years they’ve already spent here. To Rei, it probably makes no difference. To Dabi, who still has Shouto’s screams and the terrible silence of the house that followed ingrained in his mind, even one more day in this house is too long.

“Fine,” he says finally, although with proper level of reluctance. “But don’t be surprised if it all blows up in your face. That man can’t change, no matter what pretty words he offers.”

The bitterness in his tone shouldn’t come as a shock to her, yet she frowns, as if she wasn’t expecting it.

“Right,” she starts, adjusting herself, looking uneasy but determined. “I was meaning to talk to you about this too.”

Dabi raises his eyebrows at her questioningly. What is there to talk about? He really thought her of all people would understand his hatred for Endeavor.

“You changed, Touya,” she says and he stills. Ah. So this isn’t about Endeavor at all. “You never used to speak of your father like this. Your grades are falling, you’re angry all the time, you got a tattoo and now I catch you smoking and going out at night who knows where? What’s going on, love? This isn’t you.”

The genuine worry in her eyes, the way her voice almost breaks, the confusion and desperation of a parent who knows something is wrong with their child but not what, and who has no idea how they can help. Dabi hates being a reason for her concern. He hasn’t really been thinking much how this all might look to her. And the worst part is, he doesn’t have a clue how to even start explaining.

“You’re right,” he finds himself responding, mouth working without his permission. His brain is screaming at him to shut up, his body tensing in trepidation of her reaction, but the damning words follow nonetheless, “This isn’t me.”

She blinks, caught off guard. She must not have expected him to agree so easily. Maybe she was tensing in apprehension too, worried he might explode at her.

He cuts her off before she can respond, knowing that if he lets her talk, he won’t be able to finish. A large part of his brain still yells at him that it’s a terrible idea, but the smaller part, a childlike, desperate part that just wants her to know and still love him despite it all, urges him to continue.

“Mum, I need to tell you something. Something important.”   

She seems puzzled, but nods her head, encouraging him to continue.

“Promise you won’t interrupt me until I’m done. And that you will at least try to believe me before you call me crazy.”

Now, her face darkens as she realizes what he’s about to reveal will not be pleasant.

“I would never call you crazy, love.”

He cracks a smile, although there’s no humour to it. “Don’t say that just yet.”

It’s obvious he shouldn’t be doing it. What was it Keigo said? That he’s a terrible time traveller? He’s sure this must be breaking some rules. Not to mention Rei’s already fragile mental state. Springing it on her without a warning might only make it worse.

But Dabi is a selfish creature. For some reason, now that the possibility is there, he can’t imagine backing down. And, if she believes him, maybe it will help her see why he needs them out of the house immediately. Maybe it will make it easier to convince her to see a therapist.

“A few weeks ago, I was hit with some random quirk,” he starts and it’s enough to make his mother’s eyes widen in concern, as if she’s already planning to drag him to see a doctor right there and then. “Next thing I knew, I was waking up in my bedroom.” He takes one last calming breath. “In the past.”

She freezes, which is better than if she laughed. But his heartbeat speeds up anyway.

“What do you mean?’

He doesn’t chastise her for interrupting. It’s his fault for pausing, after all.

“I mean that I’m not actually fifteen. Where I come from, I’m an adult. Somehow, this quirk brought me back in time.”

For a moment, a moment that feels like an eternity and is probably only a few seconds, Rei’s face remains blank. It’s likely her brain is refusing to accept something so ridiculous, even considering the reality of quirks. He’s prepared for her disbelief, for being accused of joking. He’s not prepared for her eyes to flash with understanding and for her to nod slowly, like what he’s just said makes perfect sense.

“Not exactly what I was expecting… But I suppose it adds up.”

Dabi simply gapes at her. “You—you believe me? Just like that?”

Impossibly, she smiles at him with the same love and gentleness as before, if maybe tainted by a little more sadness. “Quirks are pretty ridiculous, I’ve learned. And it would explain a lot.”

“It would, wouldn’t it?” he sighs, mostly to himself. He’s truly a terrible time traveller.

She hums, almost sounding like she’s laughing at him. Then, her eyes shoot open in sudden realization. “That day you burned down your room… It was then, wasn’t it?”

“Can you blame me? I haven’t seen that room in years. I was sure father somehow managed to kidnap me or something.”

He doesn’t mention the ‘arrested’ part or why that would be entirely plausible. There are things she doesn’t need to know.

Rei frowns. “Is it really that bad? The future?”

Oh, she really has no idea. He has to resist an urge to burst out laughing – it would have surely terrified his mother, the sort of hysterical laughter his body yearns to let out. Where to even start? How to explain the level of fucked-up his life ended up as?

“My world, it was a little different than this one. Harsher,” he starts, hoping to brace her a bit for what comes next. “I run away from home when I was fifteen. Haven’t been back since.”

“What?” Rei breaths, face turning pale. She’s staring at him in horror. “But that’s impossible. We would have looked for you. We would have done everything to find you. What—what happened? How could I ever let you go?”

Dabi grimaces, knowing that the worst is still ahead of him. “You weren’t there to stop me. And no one was looking for me, because everyone thought I was dead.”

The silence between them is suffocating. It seems like the only sound in the world is Dabi’s thundering heartbeat.

“Touya…” Rei’s voice is fragile, breaking. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying there is a reason why I hate father so much.”

He doesn’t want to explain in detail. He doesn’t think she deserves to live with that knowledge. It won’t be the same here anyway. He will make sure of that.

“How old are you, love?”

“Twenty-four.”

“And you haven’t been home since you were fifteen? What about your siblings?”

“I haven’t seen them either. They were better off that way, trust me. I doubt they would have recognized me anyway, not with the scars.”

He doesn’t mention the few times he met Shouto on the battleground or the glimpses of Fuyumi’s life he got from Hawks. They don’t really count, not in any real way.

“The scars…?” she asks in a weak voice, but he only shakes his head. “Where was I then, if I wasn’t there to stop you?”

“You were in a hospital. After an accident. Father locked you in there, said it would be best for all of us.” He scoffs, fully aware how that turned out. “It wasn’t.”

“And you? Where were you?”

“At first, on the streets. No one would hire a child without a name, especially not one that looked like me. Then, with some friends. But they weren’t exactly good sort.”

“But what about—?”

“I really don’t think it’s a good idea for me to tell you any more,” he interrupts, gently. It seems like one wrong word could completely shatter her if he’s not careful. “It doesn’t matter anyway. I will make sure things turn out differently this time.”

“Is that what you were doing? Changing things?”

“In my world, Endeavor didn’t have his change of heart until very recently. And by the time it happened, he was already Number One, so it didn’t mean much. I wasn’t stupid enough to expect anything else from this version of him. I wasn’t going to let him hurt us anymore, not if I could stop it.”

“But if he also changed in your future, why are you so sure he’s lying now? Shouldn’t that prove he actually means it?”

“To be honest with you, mum, I don’t give a fuck if he means it or not. I could never forgive him for what he’s done to us.”

“You know your siblings don’t see it the same way. Especially Fuyumi. Unless you tell them what you told me, they will want to give him a second chance.”

“I’m not going to tell them.” He shakes his head vehemently. “I wasn’t even going to tell you. I... I don’t mind if they really want him in their lives. Well, I do, but it’s not up to me. So I will accept it, but only as long as they have an opportunity to actually choose this.”

“As long as we leave, you mean,” she clarifies and he nods.              

This time it’s him who takes her hand in his, unsure what reaction to expect and wanting some way to soothe her if his request offends her. Aiming for a tone that is gentle, he explains, “Look, mum, I think we both know you’re not fine.” Predictably, she frowns at that, opening her mouth to say something, but he shakes his head. “No, just listen to me. You’ve been through so much. More than any of us can imagine. Those experiences, they don’t leave you unscathed. You can’t honestly tell me everything is alright, not after yesterday.”

“Touya…” she whispers, sounding like she wants to apologize again, her expression pained.

He attempts to offer her an understanding smile. “I’m not saying this to make you feel guilty. But, mum, you must see you can’t go on like this. It doesn’t matter whether father changes his behaviour or not now, the damage is already done. Sooner or later, something will happen. Something that might hurt you.” He hesitates then, uncertain if he should go there, unsure whether he should hurt her for something she hasn’t yet done. But he needs her to understand. “Something that might hurt one of us.”

She shakes her head frantically and there are tears in her wide eyes now. The last thing Dabi wants is to cause her pain, so the sight makes him feel like an absolute asshole.

“I would never hurt you,” she protests, echoing the same sentiment from the day before. Then, Dabi lied to her, because she seemed too fragile to handle the truth. Now, he knows that truth is what she needs to hear.

“Not intentionally. But your mind isn’t stable, mum. Accidents happen. Accidents that can have grave consequences.”

Maybe it’s the tone of his voice, the certainty of someone who had to live with these consequences. Maybe it’s the utter seriousness of his face. Maybe it’s something in her mind, some memory she would rather not think about. But Rei’s face crumples and she doesn’t try protesting anymore.

“You were right,” she says, voice trembling. The tears slowly roll down her face, but she pays them no mind. Dabi kind of hates himself for making her cry again, but he tells himself it’s for the best. She needs to break so she can build herself back together. “I couldn’t protect you from him. And now you need protecting from me. I’m a pathetic excuse of a mother.”

“No! No, that’s not what I meant,” he rushes to assure her, wondering how else he can fuck up this conversation. It seems like no matter what he says, he’s just making things worse. “You’re not a bad mother. But you are an abuse victim.” Rei flinches at that, as though hearing the words out loud somehow makes them more real. “I shouldn’t have said what I said back then. I was angry and frustrated that you wouldn’t fight for yourself as hard as I wanted you to, yes, but I had no right to imply you did nothing for us, because that’s bullshit.”

“You were right though. No matter what I did, you still ended up hurt.”

“Yes, but that was father’s fault. Not yours.”

“I could have done more.”      

“You could have. But I understand why you didn’t. It doesn’t make you a bad mother. And we can’t change the past anyway.” He pauses, then chuckles dryly. “Well, unless I run into the guy who sent me here again. But the point is, I’m not here to make you feel guilty. All I want is for you to get away from father and be happy, and never have to worry about protecting us from him ever again.” He makes another pause, to let that sink in, then, in a softer voice, he adds, “I also want you to go to therapy.”

She exhales shakily, eyes fixed on her hands that she has folded in her lap. “I should, shouldn’t I?”

“And Shouto too,” he presses. “He’s just a kid, but that probably only makes his trauma worse. Fuyumi and Natsu, I’m not sure. It wouldn’t hurt to ask them. We definitely should make father go as well, if he’s so devoted to bettering himself, but I doubt he would agree.” A wry smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. “Too bad, because he really needs it.”

Her own face still serious, Rei questions, “And you?”

Dabi shrugs. “I doubt any therapist could fix me.” Especially since he wouldn’t be able to explain everything that happened to him without sounding like a madman. “But, if it makes it easier for you, I can give it a try.”

She shakes her head. “It’s your choice. I don’t want you to do anything you’re not comfortable with. I just thought it might do you good to talk to someone impartial about at least some of your experiences.”

“I will think about it,” he promises, even as his skin crawls at the mere thought of opening up to some random stranger. In theory, he knows therapy works and can greatly help people. But in practice, well… He doesn’t think it’s for him.

“And I will make some calls tomorrow. Maybe you could ask your hero friend if he could recommend someone? Someone discreet, preferably?”

“Sure,” Dabi agrees easily. He will text Aizawa as soon as he gets back to his room. The man is probably still asleep, but he will answer eventually. And if anyone would know a good therapist, it’s Eraser. “Thank you, mum. For listening and for fighting for me.”

She smiles at him and it’s a painful smile, beautiful but full of years’ old regret. “I should have listened to you a long time ago.”

“It doesn’t matter now,” he dismisses her silent apology. It seems redundant, her feeling guilty over something that he already forgave her for. “What matters is that we all move on and heal. And that we hold father accountable for what he’s done to us, even if he claims to have changed now.”

“I want that more than anything,” she whispers and her eyes shine with unshed tears, but her mouth is smiling and it’s a smile shining with unadulterated hope.

Chapter Text

“I’m not playing monopoly with her,” Dabi proclaims loudly, his arms stubbornly crossed across his chest as he stares down an equally persistent Fuyumi.

“You’re just scared you’re going to lose,” she mocks, narrowing her eyes. “Again.”

Dabi splutters. “I only lost because you cheated!”

She smirks at him, tilting her head. “Isn’t that the point of that game?”

The rest of their family – Rei, Natsuo and Shouto – are all sitting on the couch, watching them with various levels of amusement. Dabi and Fuyumi are standing on opposite sides of the carpet, right in front of them, obscuring the view of some soap opera quietly playing on TV – to the great displeasure of their youngest brother, who got really invested in that one lady cheating on her partner with four different people, two of them being her partners' twin siblings. Their mother and Natsuo, on the other hand, don’t seem to mind, entertained enough by the vicious argument he and Yumi are currently engaged in. Natsu is even munching on popcorn.  

It’s been a few days since Dabi’s conversations with his parents and, so far, things have been going surprisingly well. Endeavor has barely interacted with any of them, still, but when he did, it’s mostly been civil, albeit incredibly awkward. No violence though, which is a plus. Dabi considers buying some ‘good job’ stickers to reward Endeavor for every day he manages to refrain from yelling/hitting/setting anyone on fire. They say positive reinforcement is a great training tool, right?

He also suspects his father must have had some heart-to-heart conversations with the rest of his siblings as well, judging by the shifts in their behaviour. His brothers’ attitude towards Endeavor has mostly gone from fearful to guarded but curious, although at least Natsu seems to still be holding a grudge, much to Dabi’s vindication. As for Fuyumi, she couldn’t stop smiling for an entire day after leaving his office one afternoon and has been unusually cheerful ever since. Dabi remains doubtful, of course, but finds it hard to begrudge his siblings this hope, no matter how doomed it might be.

As for Rei, she got in contact with a psychologist specializing in domestic abuse survivors Aizawa recommended, the same one they decided to send Himiko to, and although she’s only attended one meeting thus far, it seems to already have planted some positive seeds in her. Her own talk with Endeavor also visibly affected their relationship – she’s been way more confident with him (although not without a lot of tensing and sporadic flinching), as though challenging him to try anything, most likely a part of her strategy of evaluating whether he deserved to have his demands met in their impending divorce. Endeavor has been taking it all in stride, for all intents and purposes transforming into a stereotype of a henpecked spouse. Dabi’s not sure what Rei’s conclusions about this are at this point, but her smile has been a tad more real recently, so he assumes she’s enjoying her newfound power over her husband.

At first, Dabi was worried that revealing his true identity would drastically change the way his mother interacted with him as well, but, to his shock, she kept treating him almost exactly the same, save for occasional meaningful glances they exchanged when nobody else was looking. He is pretty sure he’s heard her crying in her room the night after their talk, most likely grieving the version of her son that’s no longer here, but if she feels any kind of resentment towards him for taking Touya away, she’s never let it show. He’s not sure if it’s her repressing the knowledge to save her sanity or if she’s simply decided he’s her son whether he’s five or fifty and there’s no point in dwelling on it, but either way he’s not going to look a gifted horse in the mouth.

“Can’t we just play cards?” Dabi asks, rolling his eyes.

“No!” Fuyumi protests, stomping her foot.

This fight has been going on for a while now. With how Endeavor’s last idea for family bonding activity turned out, Dabi took it upon himself to find something else for them to do together. However, when he proposed game night as a cool alternative, he wasn’t expecting that choosing a game everyone agrees to play would be so fucking difficult.  

Dabi throws his hands. “Why not?!”

Shouto reaches out with his small hand, to which Rei dutifully hands him a bag of paprika-flavoured crisps.

“Because then you’re going to cheat!”

“You just said that was the point!”

Fuyumi’s glare intensifies. “Yes, in monopoly!”

Natsuo takes out his phone and taps the screen a few times. Soon, the iconic Candy Crush music blasts through the speakers. Shouto abandons his snack and shifts closer to his brother, twisting his neck to sneak a look at the game, but Natsuo angles the phone away before he can see anything, making the younger boy pout.

“I’m sure there’s a game you would both be satisfied with,” Rei, who’s been hiding a smile behind a coffee cup for the last five minutes, attempts to reason with them, but it only earns her two betrayed looks.

“You’re taking his side?!”

“She’s the one who has a problem!”

Having screamed these things simultaneously, Dabi and Fuyumi both send the other a murderous look. Fuyumi’s head is held up high, her stubbornness intact even when she’s so obviously wrong. Dabi’s fists are clenched at his sides but he tries to remain calm and clear-headed, aware that even the smallest slip in judgement might lead to a bitter defeat. In the background, the lady’s wife from the soap opera finds out about the cheating and her pitiful sobs overshadow the Candy Crush music.

“We could play Twister,” Natsuo pipes in, without much interest one way or another, his gaze locked on his phone. “You can’t cheat in that.”

“Shouto’s legs are too short for Twister!” Fuyumi points, the heat of her glare now directed to Natsu. “It wouldn’t be fair!”

“I don’t have to play,” the youngest member of the family says, shrugging his small shoulders. His hands are gripping Natuso’s sleeve, eyes focused on the game that the other has reluctantly allowed him to observe.

“Nonsense, of course you’re playing,” Dabi frowns, realizing they’re losing the rest of their siblings to some stupid mobile game. “There must be something you want to do. Tell us. And make sure it’s cards.”

Shouto’s face scrunches in displeasure as he briefly looks away from the screen to stare at Dabi with way too much judgement for such a small kid. “Cards are boring.”

“Ha!” Fuyumi exclaims in victory, but Shouto’s unimpressed look attacks her next.

“Monopoly is boring too,” he continues, uncaring about his sister’s offended gasp. Rei chuckles quietly, continuing to watch and sip on her coffee. Shouto exhales heavily, giving the impression of a wise old man instead of a six-year-old he is. “You’re all boring. And your game ideas are lame.”

“Mum, are you hearing this?!” Fuyumi shouts in disbelief, wide-eyed. “He’s insulting us! Tell him something!”

Unfortunately, Rei doesn’t seem to care very much. She does say, “Shouto, be nice to your siblings,” but there’s no heart to it. That wicked woman is evidently enjoying this way too much.

“Well then, if we’re so boring,” Dabi addresses Shouto, hands resting on his hips, “then let’s hear your ideas.”

Is he really arguing with a child? Maybe. Does he still want to win this argument? Very badly.

“I think we should play Taboo,” the boy announces, chin raised. “It’s obviously the most superior game.”

“You can’t even say it right,” Dubi grumbles but is overshadowed by Fuyumi’s excited cry.

“Yes! Let’s play Taboo!”

Rei smiles at them and nods. “Sounds good to me.”

“Natsu?” Fuyumi asks eagerly.

The boy looks up from his phone and shrugs. “Whatever.”

A big smile lights up her face and she claps her hands in excitement. “Then it’s decided!”

Always a party pooper at heart, Dabi frowns. “Do I not get a say?”

The whole family – minus Rei, who would never do him dirty like that – simultaneously says, “No.”

Awful gremlins. Dabi hates them.

***

Six rounds of Taboo later, he’s already changed his mind. Shouto’s idea was indeed brilliant. His family is lovely and he adores them very much. How could he ever think so poorly of them? He’s so ashamed of himself now. He should have never doubted them.

“You can stop smiling like that,” Fuyumi complains, her face twisted into a grimace. “You’re winning, we get it. You don’t have to be an asshole about it.”

“Language.” Rei sighs in resignation, aware that she’s fighting a losing game.

Dabi, who does not stop smiling like that, tilts his head and blinks innocently. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, dear sister of mine.” And then he high-fives a grinning Natsuo, who happens to be his partner.

Fuyumi huffs, glaring at Shouto. “You wanted to play this! Why are you so bad at it?!”

“Yumi, he’s a child,” Dabi says patiently but with obvious disapproval, which only seems to make her even angrier. Which is exactly what he’s going for. “Don’t take out your own frustrations on him. You can’t be the best at everything.”

“Someone’s a sore loser!” Natsuo snickers, earning himself yet another murderous look from red-faced Fuyumi.

“You must be cheating! There’s no way you could win otherwise!”

“How would we even cheat…?”

Rei, who has been appointed as the judge, clears her throat to get their attention. There’s still a lot of amusement sparkling in her eyes, but now her eyebrows are raised and her tone is bordering on disappointed.

“You know these games are supposed to be fun, right? You don’t have to fight about everything.”

Feeling chastised, they all murmur apologies, bending their heads down. All but Shouto, that is, who’s busy playing with his All Might plushie and completely ignoring them, long fed-up with the game he proposed.

“Maybe we should do something else,” Natsuo puts forward hesitantly, but his mournful expression betrays his unwillingness to end their impressive winning streak. It’s admirable that even at such a young age he already understands the importance of personal sacrifice.

“We’re not changing the game just because she can’t bear to lose!” immediately protests Dabi, who couldn’t care less about personal sacrifice.

Fuyumi answers him in a way very unfitting for someone her age and it only spirals from there. The game forgotten, the next ten minutes are spent arguing about everything and nothing, yelling, attempting various types of bodily harm and many more fun family activities. In the background, Rei looks like she’s regretting a lot of her life choices. Deciding that the family boding night is probably over, she reaches for a remote to change the channel to the news.

With how loud and obnoxious they’re being, it’s not surprising that it catches the attention of their dear father. Not surprising, but also definitely not appreciated. Even so, the shouting must have made the man decide to emerge from his office – maybe to check if they’re still alive? but then again, Dabi’s not so sure he would care – because his heavy footsteps echo through the house, alerting them to his impending arrival.

Once Endeavor enters the room – hesitantly, may he add – there’s no longer any shouting going on. Dabi isn’t sure if it’s the ingrained fear of the man making them shut up immediately or unwillingness to share this moment with him in any way. He would like to believe it’s the latter, but logically he knows which one is more realistic.

“…what’s going on in here?” Endeavor asks, his face carefully neutral and so is his voice, obviously trying not to let any anger or irritation through.

“Nothing that should concern you,” Dabi says flippantly, very deliberately not sparing him a glance, instead pretending to be busy with a Taboo card he’s holding.

“We were just playing a game,” Fuyumi explains carefully, as if she’s expecting him to explode at them at any moment. Her voice already turns apologetic, even though there’s nothing for her to be sorry for. “Things got a little heated… Sorry if we bothered you.”

“I’m not.” Fuyumi, predictably, glares at him for that comment, but Dabi isn’t going to let her apologize for daring to have fun. “You shouldn’t be either. If he wanted to have four kids, he should be ready for some noise, don’t you think?”

Endeavor interrupts them, before they can start another fight, “It’s okay, Fuyumi. You didn’t bother me. There’s… no need to apologise.” Wow, his face looks really constipated right now. Is Endeavor truly unable to be a decent human being without experiencing some kind of pain? That would explain a lot. “I simply wanted to see what got you so loud.”

“Well, you did,” Dabi says, reaching for some leftover crisps. With mouth half-full, he continues, “You can go now.”

“Touya,” Fuyumi sighs, staring at him pleadingly. He raises an eyebrow at her, as if to ask what exactly she’s expecting of him here.

Rei remains eerily silent, simply observing the whole situation with unreadable expression.

“It’s alright, I’m not going to impose.” Yet he looks almost… disappointed? “You should… have fun. With whatever it is you’re doing.”

Endeavor is about to turn and crawl back into his office like a coward he is, when suddenly Fuyumi jumps to her feet, determination painted all over her face. Dabi immediately has a bad feeling.

“Wait!” Endeavor looks back at her questioningly and she starts fidgeting a bit, but swallows and goes on, “You could join us? If you wanted to?”

“What?!” both Dabi and Natsuo exclaim in outrage, but of course Fuyumi ignores them.

“We need another person to make the teams even,” she tries to reason, as if there was anything reasonable about that crazy idea. “If you would like—”

“Are you crazy? I’m not playing with him!” Dabi can’t help but shout and immediately he cringes internally for how juvenile that sounded. His point still stands though – he would rather eat a bowl of sand than have Endeavor intrude on their family time.

“It’s just a stupid game, Touya.” She rolls her eyes in exasperation as if minutes ago she wasn’t ready to commit fratricide over that ‘stupid game’. “What is your problem?”

Dabi smiles at her but it isn’t a nice smile. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe I don’t want to get burned if I speak too loudly?”

Endeavor looks even more uncomfortable after hearing that comment – which, great, as he should – and he’s obviously ready to leave them alone – which, again, great – but of course Fuyumi wouldn’t be herself if she let it go so easily.

“He—he wouldn’t do that,” she argues weakly, because even her unexplainable optimism has its bounds. She’s trying to sound like she believes her own words, but her gaze keeps darting back to their father uncertainly. “Not anymore. Right?”

It’s almost pitiful, the amount of desperate hope there is in her expression as she stares at Endeavor pleadingly, against all odds wanting to believe in his change. Fuyumi’s attitude used to annoy him to death back in his childhood – it still does, most of the time, if he’s being honest – but now that he’s older, he can somehow understand it better. She’s just a young girl, whose biggest desire is to have a family that isn’t dysfunctional. Of course she would latch onto any chance of her father redeeming himself – of him learning to love her as a father should. Even if that hope is most likely doomed.

Put on the spot like that, under the stern look of a silent Rei who still hasn’t uttered a word, Endeavor seems more helpless than ever. There’s a slight widening to his eyes – he probably wasn’t expecting to be questioned so openly about that kind of thing – and Dabi could swear there’s an almost unnoticeable twitching to his muscles. His mouth opens but at first no sound comes out of it – and really, shouldn’t that tell them enough? This isn’t a question anyone should have a problem answering.

“Of course not, Fuyumi,” he grunts eventually, but even ten more ‘of course’s wouldn’t change the ugly truth that there’s nothing obvious about his statement. “I assure you, Touya, that nothing like that would happen. You have my word.”

“Your word doesn’t mean shit to me.”

This time, his sister doesn’t scold him for his rudeness. Not even for his language. When she turns to look at him, there’s no anger on her face. She’s biting her lip, too aware that apart from her no one is fighting for Endeavor to stay – Natsuo and Shouto glaring at their father from behind Dabi and Rei quietly observing – but also knowing that it’s really only Dabi that she needs to convince.

“Please, Touya. Give him a chance. We could just play one round, nothing more.” Her eyes are assaulting him with cuteness, a totally new tactic he isn’t prepared for. “It would be nice to try and have some family time.”

“Don’t you remember what happened the last time we tried to have family time with him?” Dabi asks quietly and despite his words being directed at Fuyumi, he makes sure to glare at Endeavor as he says them. The man winces at the reminder but so does Rei, which is the only reason Dabi feels a little bad for mentioning it.

“Touya…”

“Fine,” he interrupts her, already regretting what is about to leave his mouth and no, it’s not because of the puppy eyes, okay? Dabi is a villain! A bad, evil, bad villain! He’s not so pathetic that he can’t even resist a fourteen-year-old girl. It’s entirely his own (poor) decision making, okay? “Let him stay. But if he tries anything…”

“I won’t,” the man promises solemnly, but if he’s so sincere about it then why does his voice sound like he’s just swallowed a lemon?

Narrowing his eyes, Dabi glares at him some more – he can’t seem too lenient, after all – and then sighs in resignation, pointing a finger at a delighted Fuyumi. 

“He’s on your team.”

“Oh, thank god,” murmurs Shouto, putting his mini All Might away and stumbling over to where Rei is sitting. “Now I have a real team.” He smiles widely, showing off all of his teeth gaps, but his voice remains blank. “Prepare to be destroyed.”

***

Time flies. They play and it isn’t going as bad as he’s been expecting. It’s almost fun, even. Which probably should have been a sign, to be completely honest. Nothing in Dabi’s life is ever that easy.

He stands up from the floor, as it’s his turn, and chooses the first card his fingers touch. Hiding a grimace becomes exceptionally hard once the word ‘hero’ yells at him from the small piece of paper, along with additional ones like ‘save’, ‘good’, ‘help’, ‘rescue’ or ‘famous’. Ugh.

Intent on winning, Dabi makes sure to send Natsuo a meaningful look – although the meaning there could also be classified as a threat if someone cared about unimportant details – as he stands in front of his family (plus Endeavor) and clears his throat.

“A job that our dear father sucks at,” is all he says, not of the mentioned taboo words even appearing in his mind. He has a lot of other interesting ideas to describe that particular word, but he’s going to respect Shouto’s age and keep them to himself.

“Oh! Oh! I know!” Shouto raises his hand and proceeds to jump enthusiastically, while his face remains expressionless.

“I know it too,” Natsu snaps at the younger boy, leaning over to cover his mouth with his hand. Looking back at Dabi, he grins and cheerfully proclaims, “It’s ‘hero’!”

“That’s right.” Dabi returns the grin, high fives his brother as is tradition and then ruffles his hair for good measure. “You’re so smart!”

A single vein on Endeavor’s forehead twitches, as do the corners of his lips as if he really wants to say something, but, in the end, he keeps quiet, resorting to grumbling something under his breath instead.

“Hmm.” Shouto creases his eyebrows thoughtfully. “I thought it would be ‘dad’.”

The utter silence that follows is absolutely hilarious and so is Endeavor’s struck expression. Dabi swears this whole time-travel thing was worth it to bear witness to this incredible moment alone. He wishes he had a camera on him. This is glorious.

“It’s our turn, I think,” Rei says after a long moment, her voice betraying no emotion. Dabi is sure he sees her hiding a small smile behind her sleeve, however. “Do you want to go now, Shou?”

While Rei and Shouto are busy guessing their own word, Dabi allows his gaze to travel over to the silently playing TV. There’s some rerun of a news report on, from the sights of it. Something about an idiot having a motorcycle accident and injuring some guy? Who cares? Nobody even died! Boring.

He’s about to reach for the remote and change the channel when the blurred face of the driver is briefly shown along with a censored name. His hand freezes mid-way, eyes growing wide.

Shit! It’s his idiot!

Panic taking over, Dabi springs to his feet, hands already patting his pockets in search of his phone. He curses when all he finds is an old candy – yikes – his thoughts running in every direction possible. Is Jin okay? How did it happen? Is this the event that triggered his descent into villainy? Should it be happening now? What should Dabi do now? Can he do anything? Damn the League and their secrecy over tragic backstories! Twice really should have told them more about his past in case something like this happened!

“Touya? Is everything okay?” Rei’s worried voice brings him out of his inner screaming, focusing his attention back on his family (and Endeavor), who all stopped playing and are now observing him with various levels of concern.

“Probably not,” he says before he can think it through and then doesn’t even have the time to regret it, because he’s already rushing to the stairs, eager to get to his phone that’s probably lying abandoned in his room. He only adds a hurried, “I need to go!” before he’s already gone, followed by a few more calls of his name.

After almost dying of a nasty case of head meeting stairs (he doesn’t trip, okay, the stairs are just uneven), he throws open the door to his bedroom and storms inside, every awful scenario playing out in his head on repeat. He can’t fail Twice. He can’t let him be hurt the same way he was before. He can’t, not when this time he’s here to prevent it.

A few frantic minutes of phone searching later, Dabi is finally holding the damned device in his hands, panting. Unlocking it lets him see the haunting notifications about two missed calls and one text message from Jin, all dated at about an hour ago.

FROM: Once

Hey, I’m sorry if I’m bothering you, but something happened today and I don’t have anyone to talk to. It’s okay if you don’t want to, I understand, but if you do, could you call me?

A rather creative string of curse words leaves his mouth when he sees it. He should have kept his phone on himself, he should have realized that, with his damned luck, shit like this would happen during the one fucking time he accidentally leaves it behind. This Jin only has so many people he can call about his issues – there’s no Toga to keep him company almost constantly, he doesn’t seem to have any family, and he said it himself that not many people want to be his friends. Perhaps it’s a little sad that a random teenager he met in a grocery store is his best choice of person to call about being in a dangerous accident, but it is what it is.

Okay, he’s not being entirely fair here. He and Jin have been exchanging texts quite frequently ever since their first meeting. It would be a stretch to truly call them friends in a way most people understand the word, but, to Jin, it’s probably one of the closest relationships he has. Especially considering how often he complains that Dabi is the only person willing to listen to him and not brush him off.

Realising that only makes Dabi feel worse for not being there to pick up the phone and offer some kind of support to the man right when he needed it. Thankfully, it hasn’t been that long since that last message, so, without hesitation, Dabi clicks the call button.

Waiting for Jin to pick up is way more stressful than it has any right to be. The signal goes on and on, and Dabi is convinced it’s going to go to voicemail any moment now, when finally there’s a sound of some muffled shuffling and, finally, Jin’s voice.

“Um, hello?” the man says, a little unsure, but mostly just sounding exhausted.

“I saw it on the news,” spills out of Dabi’s mouth without permission, but he doesn’t regret it. He’s too worried, too impatient for small talk. “Are you okay?”

A short silence, then, “Oh.” A longer silence. “I’m alright, don’t worry about it. Just some bruises, nothing serious, haha.”

“Are you sure? Where are you now? Did you go to the hospital?”

There’s a muffled sound of a couch creaking and a short gasp of pain, and Dabi is five seconds away from climbing out of the window and going there to check up on him himself. “I just got back home, it’s fine. My ankle hurts a little but the paramedics said I just needed to walk it out. No need for hospitals. My bike, on the other hand…”

Dabi, who couldn’t care less about some bike right now, interrupts rather impatiently, “And what about that other guy? Is he okay? They aren’t going to charge you with anything, are they?”

Another moment of silence. “I don’t think so. I spoke to the police, but they weren’t really telling me a lot. I think he’s got a broken arm or something? I told them he was the one to jump in front of my bike and they said they believed me, but… They also said it would be hard to prove.” Another silence, even more tense. Quietly, “And that I would still probably get a criminal record.”

“What the fuck.” Is there really no way for him to safely do some small murder here? Because Dabi would happily have a talk with the idiot who ruined Twice’s life right now. “Fucking pigs. Why would they punish you if you didn’t do anything wrong?”

“I—I don’t know. It’s so unfair. I mean, I didn’t break any laws. I wasn’t driving over the limit or anything and this guy just… he just appeared out of nowhere. I hit the brakes immediately so that’s probably why he’s not dead. But I mean.. It really wasn’t my fault. They have to know that. If this was going to cause me problems, they would do more to help, right?”

Dabi can feel his heart squeeze unpleasantly at the slight undertone of desperation colouring his friend’s voice – as if the person he’s trying to convince the most is himself. They are certainly both aware that life is rarely fair, especially in cases like this, but Dabi is willing to play along for now, if it means he can make Jin feel at least a little bit better.

“I’m sure they would. Don’t worry. If he’s not dead and you didn’t break any laws, then they should leave you alone. Especially if they let you go. For now, try not to panic. And if they want you to come in for questioning again, let me know. Don’t say anything more without a lawyer.”

Jin’s breath hitches. “A lawyer?! Dabi, I can’t afford a lawyer!”

“Relax, I will take care of that. If it’s even necessary. It probably won’t be, so just calm down, okay? Everything will be alright.”

Dabi desperately hopes he’s not lying right now. He’s almost certain this is the accident that somehow ruined Twice’s life, so it’s very likely that they will try to take him to court over it, even if there’s technically nothing to charge him for. This time, though, unlike their original universe, Jin isn’t alone. If there’s anything Dabi can do to help him get through this, he will. He’s already saved Toga, kind of, so there’s no reason he shouldn’t be able to save Jin too.

“W-What?” Jin stutters. “No, I can’t ask that of you…”

“You’re not asking,” Dabi cuts him off swiftly. “I’m offering. And you can’t change my mind, so don’t bother trying.”

“But…”

“Now, take a nap or watch a movie, or, I don’t know, just do something to get your mind off things. And don’t forget to eat. I will call you tomorrow to check in, yeah?”

“Dabi!” the man lets out a childish whine.

“Goodnight, Jin!” he chirps, way too cheerful for how much fury is currently boiling in his guts.   

With that, he hangs up. He knows that if he lets Jin worry too much, the man will work himself into a frenzy and none of them need that. It’s not like they can do anything now anyway, not when they don’t even know what the problem is going to be. That’s what the rational part of Dabi’s brain is saying anyway.

The less rational part, the one filled with years of hatred and fire, and blood, is still screaming at him to do something, the familiar thirst for murder crawling under his skin, demanding he finds that guy and makes sure that this broken arm is the last thing he needs to worry about.

Actually, maybe he should do that. He resisted the urge to get rid of Himiko’s parents and how did that end up for him? They invaded her new safe space, probably retraumatized her, and left her a mess for hours afterwards. None of that would have happened if he had just killed them like he wanted from the beginning. It’s not like anyone would miss them.

It’s the same with this guy. Who knows what kind of problems he’s going to cause Jin in the future? What if he twists the story, pays off the judge and gets Jin thrown in prison for something that wasn’t even his fault? People are assholes. Like, someone randomly throwing themselves in front of speeding vehicles screams insurance fraud. But, well, corpses can’t exactly press charges, can they?

Besides, it’s been so long since he’s last felt the thrill of having someone’s life in his hands. He knows he’s not supposed to kill people anymore, but how can he resist it when the desire for revenge burns oh so sweetly? The guy deserves it anyway. Jin could have died because of his idiocy. Dabi would show him what happens to people who hurt his friends. Oh yes, he would. First, he would break more of his bones, one by one, just to hear them crack, just to hear him scream. Maybe add some cuts while he’s at it. Paint his useless body with blood like he’s a fucking Picasso. Carve ‘I’m a fucking waste of space’ on his stomach and listen as he shrieks louder with every letter, see his tears mix with blood until he’s choking on it. And then, when the man is a sobbing mess, wailing pathetically and begging for death, Dabi would burn him to ashes, piece by piece, starting with his feet and going up, watching as the skin turns black and then…

“Touya?” Natsuo’s voice brings him back from his dark fantasies, making him flinch and turn around with what he knows is a guilty expression. “You okay?”

“Sure,” he answers with a fake grin, crossing his arms a little too defensively. The buzzing in his ears makes it hard to hear clearly and his head feels weirdly light, but he doesn’t let it show. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

His brother sends him an unimpressed look. “You ran out of there like you saw a ghost.”

“I saw father, isn’t that enough?” he tries to joke, but it falls flat. He doesn’t have a mind for humour right now. All he can think about is blood. He clears his throat awkwardly. “I’m fine, really. Just had to call someone. An emergency.”

“Keigo?” Natsuo asks, sounding worried.

“No.” Dabi shakes his head absentmindedly. “Different friend. But he’s gonna be alright. I will deal with it.”

Natsuo’s eyes on him, so serious and scrutinizing, feel like they can see right through him, deep enough to watch every dirty, sinful fantasy spinning trough his mind. The way he’s almost wary tells Dabi that he’s not hiding his murderous cravings as well as he would like.

“Alright,” he eventually says, although it’s clear he knows Dabi isn’t telling him everything. “Are you coming back then? It’s our turn again.”

An image of a mangled corpse of that guy flashes before his eyes again. He could make it a reality.  His fingers twitch involuntarily, his throat dry. It would be so, so easy to go back to who he was before. He wouldn’t have to worry about stupid things like morals, laws, or math. He wouldn’t need to constantly keep himself in check. It’s almost too tempting.

But then other images begin replacing the horrors. His family, sitting around the living room, laughing and play-fighting, and throwing snacks at each other. His siblings staring at him with love and admiration. His mother not looking scared for once. Keigo.

He lets out a shaky breath. What was he even thinking? No asshole is worth losing this.

“Of course,” he replies and this time his smirk is a little more real. “We still need to crush them.”  

***

The day after the call starts relatively normal. Dabi wakes up from a nightmare, pretends it has nothing to do with his slip-up yesterday, wears the edgiest make up he can manage in under twenty minutes, and leaves for school without answering his father’s ‘good morning’.

He gets a text from Jin right after getting out of the car and at first it gives him a small heart attack, but it turns out it’s just the man informing him that so far no one contacted him and that he’s going to work, and also wishing Dabi a nice day at school. As if.

Slightly calmer, Dabi gets to his first class and the day continues with its usual torture. Keigo notices immediately that something is off – because of course he does – but Dabi brushes off his questions, claiming to be too busy with listening to what the teacher is saying. It’s not his best lie, but right now he’s more concerned about this weird feeling of trepidation that lodges itself into his guts and refuses to leave. Something bad is going to happen soon and he can’t do anything to stop it.

His phone rings only a few minutes into the second class of the day, his favourite My Chemical Romance song blasting from his pocket and instantly attracting everyone’s attention. Normally, he would enjoy being a nuisance, but he knows there’s only one person who could be calling him right now and it can’t be for any good reason.

“Todoroki, you know you need to have your phone silenced while in school,” the teacher says sternly, attempting to intimidate him with a glare, but Dabi isn’t really paying attention. “Turn it off and stay after the class.”

“I need to take it,” Dabi says, hurriedly packing his things and totally ignoring her words. Once he’s done, he grabs his backpack and rushes to the door, his phone still ringing loudly. “Sorry, it’s important.”

She protests and calls after him to come back, but otherwise doesn’t try to stop him, so he once again ignores her and lets the door shut behind him with a bang. He doesn’t stop, instead hurrying towards the closest exit, all while taking his phone out and finally answering it.

“What happened?” is the first thing he says, not even bothering to wait for Jin’s greeting. He knows the man wouldn’t call him if it wasn’t something major.

For a long moment, there’s only silence. Dabi tries to be patient while he waits for a response, but he still glares at some people he passes that seem a little too interested in where he’s going in the middle of the class.

Finally, a somehow shaky breath breaks the silence. “I’m sorry to bother you… I know you’re at school right now, but… you said that if I needed to talk… Dabi, I don’t know what to do.”

Dabi feels his eyes narrowing dangerously. Jin’s voice sounds way too heartbroken for his liking.

“I don’t give a fuck about school,” he replies, keeping his tone light, even as dark roots of anger begin sprouting in his stomach. “Just tell me what happened.”

Finally, he reaches the main entrance. Sunlight hits him hard once he walks out, forcing him to cover his eyes, but he doesn’t slow down. Whatever got Jin so distraught has to be serious. Dabi isn’t going to leave him to deal with it alone.

After another tense silence, Jin continues. His voice is rough, Dabi notices with a twitch in his fingers, as if he’s barely stopping himself from crying.

“I… I think I lost my job,” he says slowly, and he sounds so lost it’s almost too painful to listen.

Dabi grits his teeth. It does makes sense, unfortunately. Jin hasn’t been doing all that well even with that stupid job. If the accident somehow caused him to get fired, no wonder he went down the wrong path.

“You think?” Dabi feels the need to question.

“I don’t really get it. I went in like usual, but before I could start working my boss started yelling at me. I—I’ve never seen him so mad before.”

Dabi nods along, even though obviously Jin can’t see it. His lips twist into a grimace. He has an idea where this is going.

“He started talking how—how he gave me everything and how he saved my worthless life, and asked if this is how I repay him, and I didn’t even know what he was talking about,” Jin’s voice is shaking even more, his breath hitching as he attempts to stop himself from crying. “But even as he was saying that I didn’t think he would fire me. I just thought he was angry and needed to take it out on someone! I mean, why would he fire me? What did I do?”

Leaning against the fence outside the school grounds, Dabi lights a cigarette with one hand, the other busy keeping his phone pressed to his ear. Like always, people shoot him disapproving looks, but he couldn’t give less fucks about it. He’s already thinking what he can do to help.

“Well?” he asks, slowly inhaling and exhaling the smoke. “What did you do?”

“Nothing!” Jin cries in despair, loud enough that Dabi has to move the phone away from his poor ear. “I didn’t do anything! But this guy… The guy that I hit was a son of some important client. And—and that client will stop working with him now because of me. I said that it wasn’t my fault but then he hit me…”

“He what?” Dabi growls, but Jin doesn’t even pause.

“…and started screaming even louder that he didn’t care and that he didn’t want to see me again, and that I should leave before he really gets angry.”

“What a fucking dick,” Dabi spits, feeling the familiar fury burn under his skin. “Want me to kill him for you?”

There’s a long pause after that, just long enough for Dabi to realize what he’s just said. His eyes widen slightly as he mentally curses himself for slipping. He’s so used to the version of the League who are a bunch of immoral murderers that it’s almost weird to realize Jin would probably be unsettled if he knew it was a serious offer.

“What? No, of course not. That’s not—I just needed to talk to someone, that’s all! Why would you even…?”

“Relax, I’m joking,” Dabi quickly reassures him, faking a chuckle. “But seriously, your boss is an asshole. You shouldn’t just leave it like that.”

“But what can I do? He won’t change his mind. This client is too important.” Jin’s breathing gets gradually more frantic, sounding like he’s barely keeping himself from having a full-on panic attack. “He was the one who gave me food and shelter. I—I don’t have anywhere to go now. I don’t have any money. I will need to find a new job but who will hire me? Shit!”

There’s a loud bang on the other side, like something metal being kicked, followed by more cursing. For a second, Dabi feels relieved. Anger is easier to deal with than despair. Anger is familiar. He can work with anger.

But when Jin speaks again, there’s no rage in his voice. Mostly, he just sounds miserable. Utterly helpless.

“Dabi, I don’t know what to do,” he whispers.

He hates hearing his friend sound like that. It feels the same way seeing Himiko sob and shake, and curl onto herself did – wrong. Those two aren’t supposed to be hurt and distraught like that. They’re supposed to smile and laugh, and make fun of his edgy fashion sense. People like Himiko and Jin weren’t made to suffer. And Dabi is going to make sure they don’t have to.  

“Where are you?”

Startled, Jin croaks a confused, “What?”

“Where are you right now?” Dabi repeats, a plan quickly forming in his head.

“Still outside the building. I called you right after I left. Why?”

Dabi grins to himself, throws the cigarette bud to the ground and extinguishes it with his boot.

“Stay there,” he orders. “And text me the address. I will be there soon.”

“What? No, you don’t have to—I mean, you should go back to class. I will be fine. You shouldn’t waste your time on me…”

“Jin,” Dabi cuts him off sternly. “Text me the address.”

And then he hangs up.

Not even a minute later, his phone alerts him to a new message. Still grinning to himself, Dabi locates his chauffeur’s number and presses call.

***

Finding Jin turns out to be laughably easy.

His chauffeur doesn’t ask any unnecessary questions, which Dabi is grateful for, and manages to get them to the indicated address in less than fifteen minutes. The building that they park before is perfectly unassuming, the kind of place he would never give a second glance to, if not for a familiar man nervously walking in circles in front of the entrance.

Dabi quickly gets out of the car, shutting the door behind himself loudly enough to make Jin jump and turn his head sharply. Dabi attempts to greet him with some kind of encouraging smile, but the man’s eyes get stuck on the luxurious car, so his efforts end up wasted.

“Shit, you really are rich,” Jin whispers in awe, mouth slightly agape.

Dabi raises an eyebrow. “Aren’t you supposed to be sad?”

He winces internally at how asshole-ish this came out. It’s not what he meant to say, but it’s too late to take it back, so he might as well own it. Jin doesn’t look like he’s offended anyway. He moves his gaze to Dabi and it’s hard to ignore how red-rimmed his eyes are.

Shrugging helplessly, he says, voice filled with resignation, “I am, but what can I do? He won’t change his mind. I will just have to move on.”

To which Dabi replies, without thinking, “Didn’t you say he was the one who gave you a place to live?”

Turning his head away in shame – or maybe to hide unwelcome tears – Jin mumbles, “He was. But I guess that’s also over now.”

Getting more and more pissed, Dabi crosses his arms and frowns. “For real? He’s just going to throw you out onto the streets to starve?”

“I doubt he cares.” Jin shrugs again, still not looking at Dabi, hunching further into himself.

In that moment, despite being much taller than Dabi, he seems so fucking small.

“That’s bullshit,” Dabi finds himself saying, another stupid idea striking him like a lightning. He starts walking towards the building’s entrance. “I’m going to kill him.”

Despair quickly turning into panic, Jin grabs his arm in an attempt to stop him.

“What?!”

Unfazed, Dabi continues to move forward, easily overpowering his friend.

“You heard me. I won’t let this asshole get away with it. I will burn down his fucking company, see how he likes being poor and homeless.”

“No, Dabi, stop! You can’t—!”

He bursts inside, Jin in tow since he’s still fruitlessly trying to pull him back, and the force of his kick slams the door against the wall violently. The sound gets everyone’s attention focused on them, a universal expression of shock colouring all of their faces. A bulky man, who Dabi assumes is the guy whose fist left that ugly red mark on Jin’s cheek, turns around with a frown, his eyes narrowing dangerously once he realizes who exactly decided to interrupt him in such a rude manner.

“Hey, fucker,” Dabi says, barely restraining himself from letting his flames spread free. There’s so much paper in this office. It would burn so prettily. “That’s not how you treat your employees.”

“What the hell?” the guy grunts, taking a threatening step towards them and baring his teeth. Dabi notes that he strongly resembles Endeavor – not only in being an abusive piece of shit, but also in appearance – except for the twin funky antennae on his forehead. “I told you to never show your face here again, didn’t I? And now you bring a kid with you? You’re a joke!”

Jin flinches, which only serves to fuel Dabi’s rage. That fucking asshole. How dare he. He wouldn’t be so fucking confident if he was on fire, that’s for sure. Maybe Dabi could indulge, just this once. For friendship.

“Shut the fuck up,” he snarls at the worthless piece of shit, causing the guy’s attention to snap back to him. “You’re pathetic. You’re really going to fire him because of some whiny rich kid? Is that how you repay your employees’ loyalty?”

Everyone’s eyes are on them, expressions either condescending or pitying. Dabi hates these cowards almost as much as the asshole boss – he bets none of them bothered to say one word in Jin’s defence. It’s a small business, hardly large enough for this kind of confrontation, so the boss is now basically in Dabi’s face, flexing his useless muscles as if he truly thinks he can intimidate him with them. Dabi could literally kill him with a flick of his hand – should, really. And what is that fucker going to do? Wiggle an antenna at him?

“Dabi, please, let it go…!” Jin pleads, tensing as the man comes even closer. He clutches at Dabi’s arm, tugging at him insistently, to no avail.

“Listen here, brat, I don’t make a habit of hitting children, but you’re really pissing me off,” the man threatens, sneering at them like some caricature Disney villain. His fists are balled, as if to prove he’s serious. There’s even a pulsating vein on his forehead, another thing he must have copied from Endeavor. Maybe the man is a fan. “Get the fuck out of here before I call the cops.”

“Oh yeah, and what are you going to tell them? That you assaulted your employee and threatened to do the same to a teenager?” Dabi mocks, smirking at the guy with all the contempt he can muster. “You treated my friend like shit. I’m not going to let it go.”

The man grits his teeth, but then pauses for a second and raises an eyebrow. “Really? And what exactly are you going to do, kiddie?”

Dabi opens his mouth to answer, probably to say something like ‘fucking destroy you, you useless piece of shit’, but falters before anything can leave his mouth. What can he do? This guy clearly isn’t going to take Jin back – and even if he did, Dabi would never leave his friend to work under someone who throws punches around this easily anyway. What does he expect? An apology? Yeah, right. If he was still a villain, they wouldn’t even be having this conversation right now. The guy would be too busy screaming his lungs out, being fucking burned alive like he deserves. But Dabi can’t exactly do that now, can he?

He can admit he kind of let his temper get the better of him. He could probably get away with punching the guy, but he’s also painfully aware that his small teenage fists would not do much damage against a thick head like this and he’s left his vigilante equipment at home. Maybe it wasn’t the smartest idea to just burst in here and start yelling, no matter how satisfying.

“Come on, Dabi, let’s just go,” Jin begs again, tugging him back with much more force. It occurs to Dabi that he’s supposed to be helping his friend, not making him feel worse just so Dabi can release his own frustration. “He’s not worth it,” his friend adds in a quieter voice.

And yeah, Jin’s right. The guy is not worth it.

“I hope you go fucking bankrupt, asshole,” Dabi sneers as he lets Jin usher him towards the exit, because he’s still a bitch at heart.

He makes sure to send the guy a middle finger before the door closes behind them.

***

Once back outside, Dabi kicks a trashcan. Jin startles, staring at him with equal amount of awe and embarrassment.

“You really didn’t have to do that for me.”

“Honestly, I was doing it for me. Just needed to yell at someone.” Dabi shrugs, taking out another cigarette and lighting it swiftly. “It’s not like I thought it would change anything.”

“Still.” Jin ducks his head, one hand scratching the back of his neck. “No one’s ever stood up for me like that before.”

“Then you’ve never met anyone worth a damn.”

Jin smiles at him indulgently, in this particular way people do when they don’t entirely agree with you but are too polite to say so.

Sometimes, Dabi wonders how someone as nice and selfless as Jin could have literally no one there for him. Then, he remembers there’s a reason he hates the society and most people in general, and finds his answer.

“It was also really stupid though,” Jin adds, frowning slightly. “You shouldn’t have done it. He could have hurt you.”

Dabi snorts. “He really couldn’t have.”

And now his friend is giving him a disapproving look. Everyone’s a hater, huh?

“The point is you shouldn’t… You don’t have to help me, especially if it puts you at risk. I’m an adult. I can take care of myself.”

You really can’t, Dabi thinks but doesn’t say, because it would be rude. He supposes it’s not entirely Jin’s fault, but it’s also the truth, so.

“Friends help each other,” he points out instead, which is also true. “Age doesn’t mean shit. If I have the means to help you, then I will. No arguments.”     

Which gives him yet another terrible idea, but also a relatively easy solution to their problem.

Unfortunately for Dabi, it means getting his father involved. And he really wishes he didn’t have to. The mere idea of asking that man for anything makes him want to claw his insides out. Normally, he would rather die than stoop so low as to request Endeavor’s help.

Even more unfortunately, Dabi thinks to himself in resignation as he stares at the silently despairing Jin, this isn’t about him. He won’t let his friend end up broke and homeless just because he’s too proud to get him the help he needs. Dabi has already promised himself to save Twice from his future fate, no matter what. He’s not about to break that promise, even if he’s going to hate what he has to do next.

Letting out a disgusted grunt, Dabi unlocks his phone and searches for a number that he’s probably never used before. The action alone makes him nauseous.

“What are you doing?” Jin asks, squinting at him warily. The pure exhaustion and uncertainty on the other’s face are enough to make any doubts Dabi might have had disappear.

“Getting you a new job.”

Before his friend can start arguing, Dabi has already pressed the call button. The annoying beeping of the call signal fills the silence between them. Dabi tries to pretend his heart doesn’t speed up slightly.

After what feels like an eternity but is probably about twenty seconds, the signal cuts off abruptly. To be honest, it’s a little surprising. Dabi was half sure the man wasn’t going to pick up.

“…Touya?” a very, very confused voice of his father erupts from the speaker. It’s a pretty characteristic voice and so Jin’s eyes widen immediately after hearing it, his head already shaking frantically as if trying to say some bullshit like ‘I’m not worth Endeavor’s time’. He would be wrong, of course, because Endeavor’s time is worthless. “Is everything all right? Did something happen?”

Alright, Dabi knows that he’s not exactly an angel, but does Endeavor really have to sound so fucking alarmed? He hasn’t even said anything yet!

“Can’t I just call to have a chat?” Dabi asks innocently, because if he’s forced to interact with his father then at least he can be an asshole about it.

“I was under an impression that you didn’t want to have anything to do with me,” is Endeavor’s careful reply.

Against himself, Dabi smirks. At least the old man is learning.

“You’re right, I don’t,” he says, enjoying the way he can just imagine that vein on Endeavor’s forehead twitching right now. “But unfortunately, I need a favour. Are you at your agency right now?”

The man is quiet for a second, probably needing a moment to blink in shock. “A favour…?”

“Are you or are you not?”

“I am, but what do you…”

“Great, stay there then,” Dabi interrupts gleefully, deciding that this isn’t something he can explain over the phone. And also, he just really can’t help driving the man crazy. “We’re on our way.”

Endeavor starts saying something else – something that begins with “who the hell is we?” – but Dabi hangs up before he can finish.

Satisfied, he turns to face Jin, a wicked smile on his lips.

“Did you hear? We’re going to the Endeavor agency.”  

***

Dabi hasn’t actually been to his father’s agency in this universe yet, but it turns out to be exactly the same as he remembers – ugly. And boring. It’s just a tall building in a weird shape with a funky little letter ‘E’ over the entrance. Nothing fancy, nothing to set it apart from hundreds of other agencies around except for its height. With some amusement, Dabi wonders if this is some creepy way to compensate for dear Enji, but then has to bleach his brain from the images the thought conjures.

He heads straight for the entrance, Jin struggling to follow and almost tripping at least three times. His eyes are wide and he’s still trying to convince Dabi he’s not worth the effort, for some reason. Dabi doesn’t pay him any mind, of course. This time around, he has the resources necessary to help his friend and he’s going to do it, even if it means grovelling before fucking Endeavor.

They enter the agency with a bang, instantly drawing the stares of numerous side-kicks and other employees. Dabi continues forward without a pause, aiming for the elevator. Jin runs after him, glancing around nervously.

“Excuse me! You can’t just burst in like this!” some side-kick with green hair exclaims, rushing to block their path, her glare vicious and her palms igniting with little sparkles.

“Get out of my way, lady,” Dabi drawls lazily, flashing her a smirk. “I have something urgent to talk about with your boss.”

Somehow, this does not placate her. “If you want to speak with Endeavor, you will need to make an appointment. He’s a very busy man, as I’m sure you know.”

Dabi snorts. “Oh, I know. Probably better than you.”

“Dabi, come on, let’s just go back, you don’t have to do this…” Jin pleads quietly, fidgeting. He seems to curl onto himself under the barrage of hostile stares. 

“Listen to your friend, boy, I’m sure you don’t want to get in trouble.”

Only grinning wider, Dabi takes a step closer. “Aww, but that’s exactly what I want. Now let me speak to the old man or I’ll…”

“Touya,” Endeavor’s harsh bark interrupts him, the man himself hastily walking out of the elevator. They must have alerted him about the commotion or maybe he just has some kind of weird sense for when Dabi gets in trouble. “Stop antagonizing my staff.”

“I was just trying to see you,” he says innocently, staring smugly at the fuming side-kick. “But they wouldn’t let me through.”

His father’s glare tells him how unimpressed the man is with Dabi’s antics, which might not be ideal when he’s about to ask for a favour, but oh well. Then the glare turns to Jin, who immediately shrinks into himself. Endeavor must be in a good mood though – or too tired to muster much anger – because he quickly deflates in resignation.

Letting out a sigh, the man waves a hand at his co-workers. “It’s just my son, don’t worry about it. Get back to work.” The girl looks like she wants to say more, but in the end, she huffs and walks back to her desk. Glancing back at Dabi, the man continues, “You, come on. We can talk in my office.”

***

Endeavor’s office is, predictably, also fucking ugly. Dabi isn’t sure what he was expecting. Someone with as much money as his father has shouldn’t settle for a décor this boring. He promises himself that if he ever does end up becoming a hero – still a big if, by the way – his own agency is going to be way cooler than that.

The door closes behind them with a menacing thud, not unlike one you might hear in a horror movie. Jin flinches slightly and Dabi wonders if this particular feature is there on purpose. It would be exactly like his father to have his door adjusted so that it closes in the most intimidating way possible.

Glancing at them both with barely hidden impatience, Endeavor gestures for them to sit in the ugliest chairs Dabi has ever seen (who thought yellow and red would go well together, again?), himself taking a much comfier looking one behind an enormous glass desk. Dabi doesn’t think talking with your father should look this much like a business meeting but whatever. At least they haven’t been thrown out yet – and it was, like, 70% possibility in his mind, so. A win?

They do sit, although Jin needs a small nudge to unfreeze. Dabi fights a smirk that threatens to overtake his face – is his father truly that intimidating? Or is this sane version of Jin just very timid? He doesn’t remember Twice getting so nervous about anything, but then again Twice wasn’t a staple of good mental stability.

The silence stretches between them awkwardly, until Endeavor clears his throat and levels an unfairly judgemental look at Jin.

“What is going on here, Touya?” the man asks sternly, his face twisting into a frown. “Who is this?”

“Name’s Bubaigawara Jin, sir,” Jin says, eyes still too wide, but at least his voice is steady.

Endeavor raises an eyebrow, as if to say ‘yes and?’. It’s sort of a valid reaction, but it annoys Dabi nonetheless.

“He’s my friend,” Dabi adds swiftly, taking mercy on poor Jin. No one should have to be subjected to Endeavor’s presence, let alone be forced to speak with him. Even though he knows it will irritate the man, he leans back and starts rocking himself on the awful chair. He kind of hopes it breaks. “We’re here because he’s in a shit place right now. And you will help.”

“Touya, I am in the middle of work right now. I do not have time for your nonsense,” Endeavor huffs, seemingly torn between being angry and tired. His glare that he directs at Jin only intensifies. “Him? A friend? What kind of friend? This man is way too old for you to associate with.” Then, something visibly strikes him as he stills, displeasure turning into horror. In a strangled voice, his father chokes out, “Surely you are not…?”

Dabi rolls his eyes. “No, I’m not fucking him. Jesus.” In the background, Jin splutters, his face reddening at an alarming rate. “And they say teenagers are fixated on sex.”

“D-Touya!” Jin whisper-shrieks at him, absolutely mortified, but remains ignored.

Deflating in relief, even if still clearly very pissed off, Endeavor rubs his temples. “Even so. I still do not approve of you having friends this much older.” Well, Dabi did not approve of having an abusive father, but we can’t all have what we want, hm? Not to mention that, technically, Dabi is older than Jin. And that Endeavor can shove his useless opinions up his ass. “And I do not understand what you want from me. Have you only come here to waste my time?”    

Dabi is about to answer – something vicious, no doubt, something that would definitely not help their case – when Jin stands up abruptly, startling him enough to give him a pause, and then fucking bows before Endeavor, for some incomprehensible reason. 

“You’re right, sir. I apologize for intruding on you. Of course, you’re busy, I mean, you’re the Number Two Hero. We shouldn’t have come here, but it was my idea, so please don’t be angry at your son. He only wanted to help me and I used his kindness.”

Endeavor blinks, momentarily speechless. Dabi blinks as well, similarly shocked at Jin’s declaration, but stops himself the moment he notices his father doing the same. An incredulous laugher bubbles up his throat. Jin is adorable, he will give him that.

Endeavor’s gathers himself back quite quickly as well, arching an eyebrow, his expression bordering on amusement.

“Touya’s… kindness?”

Dabi rolls his eyes. He really doesn’t have to sound that disbelieving.

He turns to Jin – who’s now just kind of hovering awkwardly, eyes darting nervously between the two of them – and sends him a wry smile. “Look, it’s cute that you want to protect me, but there’s no way he would ever believe this wasn’t my idea. Now, sit down, we’re not finished yet.”

Very reluctantly, Jin takes his seat again, seeming ever more tense than before. Dabi will have to take him somewhere nice after this, to make up for all the stress. They could get ice cream, but that doesn’t usually go well for him, at least recently. Maybe some boba?

“Now, I want you to stop judging me for a second and listen.” Dabi points a finger at Endeavor, who frowns but miraculously stays silent. “Jin is not a creep or whatever you’re thinking, he’s just my friend. He lost his job because his boss is a dick and now he doesn’t have anywhere to live. He didn’t want me to help him, but I forced him to come here, because I know you can do something about it.” He crosses his arms, hoping his gaze is properly challenging. “So, be a hero you’re supposed to be and do something about it.”

“What do you want me to do? Give him money?” Endeavor scoffs, but at least he’s not murdering Jin with his eyes anymore, so. Progress? “I am not a charity, Touya.”

Dabi finds himself rolling his eyes, again. Only a few minutes of talking with this man and he’s already getting a headache.

“Get him a new job. Find him somewhere cheap to stay at. I’m sure a lot of people owe you favours, it shouldn’t be that hard.”

Now, even to his own ears it sounds a little childish, but he doesn’t really give a fuck, as long as it works. It’s not like he cares about shit like nepotism and other smart words. If he can save Jin, he will use anything in his might to do so.

Endeavor considers him for a moment, silent. His face is no longer twisted – now, it’s a perfectly emotionless, calculating mask. “And why would I do that? Things like this are not part of my job.”

“I don’t know, because you’re a fucking human being?” Perfectly sound argument, in Dabi’s opinion, but perhaps not to everyone, judging by his father’s unimpressed expression. “And I will be grateful if you do?” he adds, grimacing slightly at the way the words feel sour on his tongue.

Another bit of silence, with Endeavor watching him intently, like he’s a puzzle the man is trying to solve. It makes his skin crawl, but he forces himself to stay still and his face to remain neutral. He’s not even sure his father is doing it specifically to make him uncomfortable, but it has that effect anyway. He really fucking hopes this whole thing is worth it.

“There is an event being held soon,” Endeavor starts, his voice calm and almost pleasant, which instantly puts Dabi on edge. The man must notice the sudden stiffening of Dabi’s back, because he smirks the slightest bit. Fucking asshole. “Most of the agencies are taking part in it. I believe they call it ‘Take Your Kid to Work Day’.”

“No,” Dabi whispers, before he can stop himself, feeling his body go cold with dread.

Unmoved, Endeavor continues, now looking utterly pleased with himself, the bastard, “For the most part, heroes bring their children with them to take part in various activities and ‘bond’.” Dabi can hear the quotes around the word, even if Endeavor would never stoop so low as to actually make air quotes. “However, the children who are training to be heroes are allowed to accompany their parent during the day and can assist with fighting. It is not unlike these school internships that you have.”

“And you want me to go with you?”

“I do.” Endeavor nods, ignoring the blatant revulsion in Dabi’s voice. “Agree to go and I will help your… friend.”

Dabi gapes, which is stupid, because he shouldn’t have expected anything else. “You’re blackmailing me again?”

His father’s expression turns serious, bordering on offended. The audacity of this man will never cease to amaze him.

“I am not blackmailing you, Touya. I am making you an offer.” Endeavor leans back on his chair in a way more relaxed manner than before, as if revelling in Dabi’s discomfort. “I have no obligation to help your friend. As you said on the phone, you are asking me for a favour. Quite a large favour, I might add. I am telling you that I will grant it, on a condition that you attend this event with me. You are free to decide whether you accept my terms or not.”

Jin lightly touches his wrist and it’s only then that Dabi realizes he’s shaking. This really shouldn’t infuriate him as much as it does, but he can’t help it. He grits his teeth to stop himself from cursing the man and risking him taking the offer back.

“You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” his friend says frantically, biting his lip. “I will be fine. I will figure something out.”

And this, Jin’s genuine selflessness, more than anything, pushes Dabi to take his head out of his ass. This is bigger than him and his petty feud with his father.

“Don’t be stupid, Jin,” he gently admonishes his friend and puts his head up, facing Endeavor with calmness he doesn’t feel. “Fine. I will go to your dumb event. As long as you make sure Jin’s okay.”

Whatever, he can suffer a few hours doing hero shit with the old man. It’s not that big of a deal. He might even have fun, annoying him in public for an entire day. And if it saves Jin from the tragic fate that would otherwise await him? It’s not even a sacrifice.

Endeavor smiles in satisfaction, the kind of smile that makes Dabi want to punch him twice as much as normal.

“I am glad you can be reasonable, my son.”

Dabi wishes he could reasonably set the man on fire.

***

They leave the agency not long after, having first talked some more about what skills Jin actually has and what kind of job would be best suited for him. Dabi vows to be bitter about being played like this, by his father of all people, but his resolution quickly crumbles, thwarted by the gleaming hope in his friend’s eyes.

Besides, did Endeavor actually win anything? Dabi got what he wanted and the man will have to spend an entire day with him, most likely being made fun of all the time. It’s a strange thing to submit yourself to willingly.

“You know, you really didn’t have to do this.”

He sighs, sending Jin a flat look. “Yes, you said so already. A hundred times.”

“Sorry, sorry, it’s just… I think you might have saved my life here.” Jin laughs, a little self-deprecatingly. He still seems awkward, probably a bit ashamed that he needed help from someone so much younger, but it’s balanced out by the way he can’t stop smiling or maybe by the lack of tension in his back. It’s a stark contrast from the despairing man from just an hour before. “And I know you said we’re friends, but your dad was sort of right, you know? You should hang out with people your own age, not waste your time on someone like me. You’ve only really known me for what, a few weeks? And you still fought for me. That’s just so… incredible.”

Look, Dabi knows, logically, that Endeavor’s worries aren’t completely unfounded. It certainly is a red flag if your teenage child suddenly has ‘friends’ twice their age, no matter how innocent their intentions might be. He can’t exactly blame his father for jumping to conclusions. God knows, if Fuyumi had some old guy chasing after her, Dabi would forget this whole not-being-a-criminal thing and take care of him immediately.

But – no matter how bad it sounds to say it like this – Jin isn’t like that. Obviously. And Dabi isn’t a child. Besides, even if Dabi was actually fifteen like he’s supposed to be, Jin would only be older than him by what, six years? Which is definitely still way too much if they were fucking, but they’re not, so.

(Not to mention that Endeavor has no right to tell him who he can or can’t associate with after not giving a fuck about him for his entire life before. It just doesn’t work like that.)

“First of all, my father has never been right about anything in his life, take that back,” Dabi replies, stopping in the middle of the pavement and pointing a finger at Jin accusingly, all while adopting a dramatic frown. “I am perfectly capable of choosing who I want to spend my time with. The old man has no say in that. Understood?”

Jin blinks, possibly a little taken-aback, but nods obediently.

Dabi smiles, pleased. “Good. Glad we’re on the same page.” He resumes walking, after having yet another fellow pedestrian send him a dirty look. “Second of all, it doesn’t matter how long I’ve known you. You’re a friend, you needed help, end of discussion.”

He turns to his friend to gauge his expression, adamant that the man understands. He finds Jin looking at him with a smile so soft it makes something stir in Dabi’s stomach.

“You’re a really good person, Dabi,” he says, sounding like the biggest sap and apparently proud of it. “Thank you.”

Feeling raw for some reason, Dabi looks away. Next to him, Jin is sporting a grin that is really smugger that necessary.

Chapter Text

Dabi does end up taking Jin for a rather fancy dinner, despite the man’s protests, as compensation for putting him through so much stress, what with yelling at his boss and forcing him to be in one room with Endeavor. It’s nice, conversation flowing between them with surprising ease. They discuss their favourite shows, exchange music recommendations, and stay away from any personal topics that could ruin the mood. Dabi promises himself to meet up with Jin more often, despite his schedule already being quite full with school, vigilanting, family time, Keigo and visiting Himiko. But hey, it’s not like he needs that much sleep. There’s a reason people invented energy drinks, right?

Soon after they’re finished with their meal, Dabi gets a text from his father containing an address and nothing more. He grins nevertheless – he knew nepotism would work – and hurriedly asks the waiter for their check.

As expected, his chauffeur is dutifully waiting for them in front of the restaurant. Dabi forces Jin to get into the car and has the man drive them to the indicated location. It’s not extremely far, just a five-minutes’ drive at most. The place they end up at is the entrance of an unassuming little park – if it can even be called that, being a tiny plot of vaguely green grass, with one dilapidated bench and three frail trees. There’s a person waiting for them there, a man dressed in formal clothing and perpetual exhaustion. He informs them, with just the tiniest of grimaces, that he’s supposed to take care of finding Jin somewhere to stay and possibly even getting his belongings back from the asshole ex-boss, and to please follow him.

Dabi kind of wants to stay, to ensure no one will try to trick his friend into anything or treat him with any disrespect, but just as he’s about to say so, he receives a text from his mother, asking him to get back home as quickly as possible, with no further explanation. Cursing, he makes some quick calculations in his head, but, in the end, decides Jin is an adult and should be able to take care of himself. Which is another way of saying that he’s too afraid he’s going to anger his mother to ignore her. He’s so not eager to get on Rei’s bad side again; he’s had enough of that for the rest of his life, thank you very much. So, he wishes Jin good luck, makes him promise to update him as soon as possible, and reluctantly tells his driver to take him home.

The drive this time is significantly longer, but Dabi passes the time with some help from his phone and a random youtuber he stumbled upon a few days ago. The man behind the wheel (whose name Dabi, shamefully, still doesn’t know) doesn’t ask any questions, even though he must be curious about what the hell this whole thing was about, which is just as well because Dabi is not in the mood to explain. He’s sort of busy worrying over the ominous tone of Rei’s message. Did something happen? Is she mad about something? Did the school call to tell her how he ditched classes with no justification? Has Endeavor informed her about the ‘suspicious older man’ he allegedly associates with? Although that one shouldn’t be a problem, considering that she knows the truth about him now.

There are at least ten different possible scenarios of what he might be met with in his head by the time they arrive at the house. None of them, however, include finding his mother waiting for him in the hall with a piece of paper in her hand and a ready-to-go toddler hiding behind her leg.

“Hi mum, hi Shou,” he greets them, deciding his best strategy is to act like everything is fine until she actually tells him what exactly is going on. “Nice day, isn’t it?”

Rei seems pretty unimpressed with his attempts at sounding casual though, putting her hands on her hips and cocking an eyebrow. Well, he can’t say he hasn’t tried.

“Nice enough for you to skip school, apparently.”

Busted. Oops.

“In my defence,” he says, scratching the back of his neck, “something really important came up.”

“Yes, your father called,” she answers, a shadow of a teasing smile on her lips. “Something about you hanging out with adult men?”

Seriously? Endeavor actually went and snitched on him to Rei? Is this supposed to be his revenge?

Suddenly, Dabi is very glad he’s let his mother in on his secret, otherwise this would be a very uncomfortable situation.

“His name is Jin and we’re just friends,” he says, rolling his eyes, although he’s fully aware how bad it would sound if he was actually fifteen.

To his surprise though, Rei remains silent, her eyebrows rising even higher, her intense gaze strangely unnerving.

“Really, father is overreacting. He’s not even that old.” Yes, and that sounds so much better. Fucking hell. “He needed help and he doesn’t have that many friends, so it’s not like anyone else could have helped him.” Oh god, he should probably just shut up at this point. “I promise I’m not sleeping with him.”

Please, someone just kill him.

Contrary to what he’s expecting, his mother laughs, evidently amused, with just the slightest bit of revulsion that’s inevitable to every parent discussing their child’s sex life.

“I sure hope not. Keigo would be distraught.”

Relaxing, Dabi chuckles as well, partly at himself, partly at the irony of her statement, considering how often Twice’s name came up in Dabi and Hawks’ discussions of possible threesome candidates. Mostly from Hawks, may he add.

“Look, I don’t support you skipping class,” she continues after a moment, a bit more serious, “but I understand it was a dire situation, so I’m not going to lecture you. And about this Jin... Am I correct in assuming he’s someone... you know, from your future?” Dabi nods, relieved she figured it out so easily. “Well, then I’m sure it’s fine. I trust you know what you’re doing. Although I can’t say I’m surprised at your father’s reaction, all things considered.”

“I guess,” Dabi admits reluctantly. “Doesn’t mean I’m not pissed about it though. I’m pretty sure he traumatized Jin for the rest of his life.”

“Ah,“ Rei winces, her smile dimming. Probably thinking about how her and Jin have that in common, Dabi thinks bitterly.

“Anyway, if you’re not mad at me, then what’s going on here?” He gestures vaguely at her and at his little brother, who hasn’t uttered a single word yet, too busy squeezing his All Might plushie. “Are you going somewhere?”

“Yes and you are as well,” she tells him, handing him the piece of paper she’s been holding. He takes it instinctively and glances down, finding it to be a shopping list. “Feel free to use one of your father’s cards. Yes, I know you have them,” she says before he can try to protest. “And take Shouto with you. He can’t stay here on his own.”

“And where are you going?” he asks, confused. Since when do they do shopping? Is their usual delivery service out of commission or something?

She flashes him another smile, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“That’s my secret.” Only then does Dabi notice she’s wearing make-up. And some really nice jewellery. And a dress. Damn. “Oh, and you should eat something while you’re out. There’s no dinner today.”

“What about Fuyumi and Natsu?” he questions, still a bit confused.

“Fuyumi is sleeping over at her friend’s and Natsuo has practice. He said their coach would be taking them for pizza after, so don’t worry about him.”

“…and father?” he adds, almost like a challenge.

Rei purses her lips, her expression a picture of exasperated indifference. Her eyes, however, continue to glow with something a bit like freedom.

“Your father is an adult. I’m sure he’s capable of getting himself dinner.”

Okay then. You go girl or whatever. Drag your useless husband. That’s what he deserves.

“Alright, sure, have fun on your secret outing.” He shoots her one last smile, then reaches for his brother’s hand. “Come on, Shou. Seems like we’re having an adventure.”

***

It only really occurs to Dabi that shopping with a toddler at his side might be a tiny bit troublesome when he loses sight of him exactly three minutes after they enter the store.

His heart almost stops from an unexpected wave of raw panic that overcomes him out of nowhere. Frankly, it’s ridiculous. He’s been through things hundred times more terrifying. He knows, logically, that Shouto can’t be far. But there’s this particular kind of dread triggered by losing a child at a supermarket that can’t quite compare to anything else.   

“Shouto?” he calls, calmly, even as his stupid heart threatens to jump out of his chest.

He looks around, but there’s no sign of his brother anywhere. Forcing himself to think rationally, he considers what would be interesting enough in here to immediately catch Shouto’s attention. The answer comes to him almost instantly and so he directs his steps towards the noodles aisle.

“Shouto, where the fuck are you?”

A lady next to him sends him a scandalized look, but he ignores her, so she lets out a huff and goes back to contemplating cheese. None of the blocks in front of her seem to differ much – they’re all rectangular and yellow – so Dabi really isn’t sure what’s so hard about making a decision, but the lady is clearly struggling. Meanwhile, the gulp in his throat is still trying to suffocate him.

Why is this store so fucking big? How many aisles can there be? He doesn’t run, because it would mean admitting he’s panicking and also would be pretty hard with the big cart he’s pushing, but he’s still out of breath by the time he finally locates the noodle kingdom and, right there in the middle of it, Shouto. Absolutely oblivious to the heart attack he almost gave him.

“Shouto, you can’t just run off like that,” he berates him, his voice as stern as he can make it between his pathetic panting.

Shouto doesn’t even grace him with a glance.

“I want soba,” he proclaims, pointing stubbornly at the fifth shelf from the bottom, one that he’s way too short to reach.

“Are you listening to me? I can’t have you getting lost like this. Do you want to be kidnapped and sold to an evil child-eating witch?”

Is that even how you threated children these days? He bets some of them would be into that, what with wicca getting so popular. Maybe he should have gone with the classic big bad man. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it, right?

Shouto, unmoved by the threat, finally spares him one flat look.

“I want soba, Touya,” he repeats, crossing his arms, and goes back to staring at the object of his desire.

Rolling his eyes, Dabi grabs the noodles and throws them into their cart.

“Here, happy? Fucking soba. Can you stay where I can see you now?”

“Mum says you shouldn’t use bad words with me,” is Shouto’s unhelpful answer.   

Dabi sighs, pinching his nose.

Maybe his mother was pissed at him after all. Maybe this is his punishment.

Resolved to get through this with as little negativity as possible, Dabi pats Shouto’s head and attempts a tired smile, “Just stay close, okay?”

Shouto nods reluctantly and they move on, Dabi taking them back to the front of the shop so they can go through it chronologically. They walk through the aisles in relative peace for a while, grabbing stuff that’s on the list but also a lot of stuff that simply catches their eye, and Dabi begins to regain some hope that this trip doesn’t have to be a complete disaster. Shouto stays by his side, thankfully, placated by Dabi promising they can get all of his favourite food items. For such a weird child, his brother is surprisingly easy to please.

“Hey, do you have any idea what’s the difference between whole wheat and whole grain?”

His brother, who definitely has no idea what’s the difference between whole wheat and whole grain, stumbles over to the donuts section, completely ignoring Dabi’s inquiry.

“Yeah, thought so,” Dabi mumbles under his breath, continuing to glare at bread. Why do they even make so many different kinds of the same thing? Who cares? It’s bread.

In the end, he gets the most expensive one. It has to be good if it costs so fucking much, right?

He pushes the cart towards his wayward brother, resisting an urge to groan. Shopping sucks. Why do they even need food anyway? They could order take-out like normal people. Or starve.

“What are you looking at?” he asks, like an idiot, because Shouto is very clearly looking at donuts.

“Donuts,” Shouto replies, surprising no one.

Dabi waits for something to follow, but his brother simply continues to stare.

“Do you want one?” he tries, thinking that Endeavor would be furious about his little soldier ruining his diet. He hopes the answer is yes.

“No.”

Of course.

“Let’s move then, we still have some stuff to get,” he urges impatiently and god, he feels like a parent. The boy doesn’t move. “Shouto?”

“We need to buy a donut, Touya.”

Dabi’s eye does not twitch. It doesn’t.

“You just said you didn’t want one.”

“I don’t.” Would anyone care if he started screaming? “But All Might does.”

Dabi is never becoming a parent. Never.

They choose a donut for the All Might plushie and move on, with Dabi’s sanity hanging on by a thread slightly thinner than before. He’s starting to remember why he used to hate his little brother. Maybe he should go back to that ‘kill the son to hurt the father’ plan that he’s been juggling in the future. Might be fun.

They get regular milk and then a small cartoon of chocolate milk too, because Dabi deserves something nice for this trip. Then they get some rice and soy sauce, and cheese, and carrots. It’s going well, too well, they’re almost at the end of the list, when suddenly Shouto’s small hand tugs on Dabi’s pants.

“What is it, Shou?” he inquiries, a bag of flour in his hand. A bag which the boy is clearly trying to murder with his glare.

“We can’t buy this.”

Deep breaths, Dabi. Deep breaths.

“Why?”

His brother’s face scrunches in annoyance, as if he’s surprised he even needs to explain.

“’Cause it’s bad.”

Yes, he’s sure now. This is his punishment. Rei is truly an evil mastermind.

“Why is flour bad, Shou?”

“It’s white and all powder-y,” the boy says, which is true. “Like drugs. And they add drugs to this to make people stupid,” he then adds, which is very much not.

“Do they?” Dabi wonders yet again where do these outrageous stories about things spiked with drugs come from. It’s so obviously bullshit. After all, he’s never met anyone who would give out drugs for free. “And where did you hear that?”

“On Tik Tok,” Shouto replies and it’s probably the scariest thing Dabi’s ever heard in his life.

He narrows his eyes at the boy accusingly. “Who the fuck gave you Tik Tok?” 

“If I told you,” his brother says, expression completely blank, “I would need to unalive you.”

***

Dabi, having calmed down and then forcefully placed the flour in the cart despite Shouto’s protests, is busy deciding on a brand of honey, the last item from the list, when he realizes he’s lost his brother yet again.

He frantically looks around, but there is no sight of him, no sudden flash of white-red hair, no cursed words spoken in a voice of someone dead inside. No annoying All Might plushie with disgusting taste in donuts. Nothing.

Cursing quietly – but not quietly enough, judging by the few offended looks he gets – he attempts to, once again, be logical about this. He tells himself there’s no need to panic since he’s already lost Shouto once and he was perfectly fine. Somehow, it only serves to make him panic more.

With their cart being a lot heavier now, it would only be a handicap, so Dabi decides to abandon it in a corner where it shouldn’t bother anyone and begins searching, starting from the obvious soba aisle. He still doesn’t run, but he also doesn’t exactly walk slowly, which means it doesn’t take him that long to cover the entire store. Which would be great, if Shouto was actually somewhere there.

But he’s not.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” he mutters to himself, heart hammering and brain already composing a nice funeral speech. He’s not even sure whose funeral – Shouto’s or his, after his mother murders him for losing her baby. “Where the hell are you, Shou?”

He’s certain he’s checked everywhere – even inside the freezer, because Shouto totally would – but to no avail. He’s nearly ready to give up and call the police, as much as he hates them on principle. He asks around, both the store’s staff and other customers, but none of them remember seeing any child matching his brother’s description and all of them give him looks of thinly veiled concern. Increasingly desperate, he gets one last idea – wait by the front door, as a sort of universal meeting spot, and hope Shouto might eventually appear there. He stands there only for a minute or so before a girl approaches him – the manager, apparently – to tell him she’s heard about his issue and offer to make an announcement through the store’s speakers. He’s just about to agree, grateful beyond measure, when, suddenly, a voice from outside catches his attention.

“Oi, useless Deku! What you’re doing here?! Are you following me?! Shouldn’t you be at home crying like you always do?”

The cruel words are followed by a burst of mean laughter and, for a moment, Dabi finds himself distracted. The voice sounds young, but it doesn’t make Dabi any less pissed. He really hates bullies, no matter their age.

“You shouldn’t talk to him like that,” another voice responds, similarly young but much calmer. And much more familiar.

A wave of relief hits Dabi hard enough to almost knock him off his feet. If he was a lesser man, he might have cried. Why did nobody warn him that taking care of a child would be so damn stressful? If he knew, he would have brought a fucking leash.

He doesn’t hesitate before rushing out of the store, throwing a hurried apology at the confused manager. Sure, Shouto might be safe and alive for now, but he’s clearly busy getting himself into some trouble, which means Dabi needs to get to him now before the situation escalates beyond control. He’s proud of his brother for apparently standing up for someone, don’t get him wrong, but kids can be vicious and he’s so not explaining a black eye on a six-year-old to his mother.

It’s not difficult to locate them – three kids having a stand-off right outside the store, two against one, are sort of hard to miss, even if everyone else seems to be ignoring them. The bully is a blond kid with freakishly red eyes and an ugly grimace marring his rat-like face. One of the boys on the opposite side is Shouto, obviously, and the other one is kind of a plain kid with freckles and green hair.

Hold on. Wait a moment. Has that boy just said Deku?

Dabi goes still as the realization hits him, thankfully still unnoticed by the squabbling children. He can’t fucking believe it. What are the odds? Midoriya Izuku, All Might’s future successor and a bane of the League’s existence, stumbling into them at a fucking supermarket. That’s some cosmic joke shit right there. And the other one, the mean blond, he must be Bakugou Katsuki, the boy who won the U.A. Sport Festival and who Dabi happened to have kidnapped once upon the time.

They are both also, if his sources are to be believed, Shouto’s future boyfriends.

“What do you know, Half-and-Half?! Who even are you?! Why are you talking to a friendless reject like him, heh?!”

Shouto levels the Bakugou boy with an unimpressed glare. Meanwhile, Midoriya is curling in on himself under the harsh words with tears already pooling in his eyes. Yet somehow, he still positions himself in front of Shouto as if to protect him.

Once a heroic brat, always a heroic brat, Dabi supposes.

“I am his friend,” Shouto declares boldly, earning himself an awestruck look from Midoriya and also more tears. “So you should leave us alone.”

Bakugou, to nobody’s surprise, only gets angrier, narrowing his eyes and sneering at them. “Why would you want to be his friend? He’s a quirkless nobody! Did he tell you that?! Hah?! Hah?!”

Midoriya flinches violently, ruthless words cutting like knives, especially for someone so young. His glistening eyes dart to Shouto uncertainly, flashing with fear, body bracing for what he most likely considers inevitable rejection.

“So what?” Shouto challenges, his blank expression unchanged.

Bakugou visibly falters at that, probably expecting a far different reaction. Midoriya, on the other hand, looks like he’s just been declared the king of the world. The way he stares at Shouto as if he’s something impossible, something too good to be true, should not tug at Dabi’s heartstrings like that, but he’s been getting soft recently and so it very much does. He silently resigns himself to a lot of pining between those two through the next how many years. He guesses there are worse brothers-in-law to end up with.

On a totally unrelated note, he also vows to himself he’s going to put that Bakugou brat through hell and back before he lets him anywhere near his little brother, redemption arc or not.

“What do you mean, ‘so what’?!” the blond brat splutters. “He’s worthless! Stupid crybaby Deku!”

“You’re stupid,” Shouto replies, his arms folded over his chest. “I don’t want to talk to you anymore. Go away.”

A miniature explosion erupts from Bakugou’s clenched fists. His face is almost as red as his eyes.

“What did you just say to me?!” the boy growls, but the childish, high-pitched voice of a six-year-old does not sound nearly as intimidating as he probably thinks it does. “I will kill you, you useless extra!”

“Kacchan, no…!”

“Actually, it’s ‘unalive’.”

Yeah, alright, Dabi thinks, it’s probably time to react.

“What the hell is going on here, you little gremlins?” he interrupts before anyone can actually start throwing fists – or fireballs – cocking an eyebrow at them and, to his great amusement, causing them all to freeze.

Or, well, two of them, really. Midoriya is wide-eyed, a deer-in-the-headlights sort of look, as though afraid he’s gonna get blamed for all of that. Knowing how some teachers could be, especially towards the quirkless kids, Dabi wouldn’t be surprised if the reaction was warranted. Bakugou, on the other hand, instantly changes his attitude from a cruel, furiously spitting chihuahua to a well-behaved young man. Who still looks vaguely like a chihuahua.

Shouto is as unaffected as ever, the insufferable brat.

“Oh, Touya, you’re back.” Back? He’s back? What the fuck, Shouto. “Tell him to go away. He’s being mean.”

“Whatever,” Bakugou mumbles before Dabi can even try to say anything, sending a very unsubtle dark look the other boys’ way. “I have better things to do anyway.”    

With that, the boy puffs up his chest and storms off, muttering something undoubtedly nasty to himself as he goes. Dabi shakes his head, wondering how the hell Shouto could ever fall in love with someone like that. Seems like there’s some serious character development in store for the brat.

Of course, it’s also possible that his brother just has shit taste in men.

“What did I say about running away?” he turns to address Shouto, aiming to sound stern. He’s happy his brother is making friends, he really is, but he also almost had a heart attack, thinking him lost forever. Twice.

The boy meets his gaze with his usual indifference, no signs of guilt whatsoever. He clearly has no idea how much grief his little adventure caused Dabi. Or if he does, he doesn’t give a shit.

“I didn’t run away,” Shouto protests. “I walked.”

Midoriya, who’s mostly stopped crying at this point but still appears unreasonably spooked, shuffles in his place and shoots Shouto an uncertain look. “That’s, um, that’s your brother?”

Shouto glances back at his new friend, takes in his state of uneasiness, and nods. “That’s Touya. Don’t worry, he’s not really mad.”

Dabi’s eyebrows shoot up. “Yes, I am? I explicitly told you to stay where I can see you and you ignored me. You could have gotten lost, you could have been run over by a car, someone could have kidnapped you, you— Do you know what mum would do to me if any of that happened? Just for that, I will be putting one of your soba packets back on the shelf.”

At last looking stricken, Shouto first gasp in outrage and then mournfully re-addresses Midoriya. “I was wrong. He’s furious.”

Against his better judgement, Dabi finds himself snorting. The small green child jumps at that, now seeming even more confused and still slightly scared. He’s kind of pathetic and pretty gross, covered in tears and snot like that, but he did try to protect Shouto even when he was the one being attacked, so Dabi decides to take mercy on him.

“But only at you,” he clarifies, pointing at Shouto. “As far as I’m concerned, your friend didn’t do anything wrong.”

Sure enough, hearing that instantly eases some of Midoriya’s tension, and soon the boy is beaming at Dabi, smile still slightly watery but entirely genuine. Dabi’s not sure whether it’s from relief at not being blamed or from being called Shouto’s friend. Probably both.

Shouto’s face twists into a cute little frown. “But he ran away too,” he argues, earning himself a wide-eyed, betrayed look from Midoriya.

“I didn’t—!”

“He did not run from me,” Dabi points out, crossing his arms. Why is he even arguing with a child again? “This is between him and his guardian. Who, I’m sure, is just as worried as I was, so maybe let’s go look for them, yes?”

Midoriya does not seem like he wants to go look for them. That’s too bad, because Dabi is already turning away and heading back inside, this time with a firm grasp on Shouto’s wrist. He’s not losing the little monster for the third time, that’s for sure. In fact, he’s going to find an animal accessories section and actually get the brat a leash. Just watch him.

Faced with no other option and not wanting to be left alone, Midoriya follows them, anxiously biting on his lip. Dabi refuses to feel pity. They shouldn’t have wandered off if they weren’t ready to suffer the consequences.

They don’t even get to come back inside before they nearly collide with a green-haired woman rushing out of the store. She’s out of breath and her eyes are darting around frantically, both clear signs of a guardian searching for a lost kid. Dabi feels for her, he really does. Maybe he can recommend her his genius leash idea.

“Mum!” Midoriya cries, instantly catching the woman’s attention. 

The woman sags in relief, face lighting up as she hurries to pull her runaway son into a tight hug.

“Izuku! Oh, baby, where have you been?! I’ve been looking for you everywhere!”

“I’m fine, mum,” the boy assures her, although his voice is muffled as a result of being squished.

“I was so worried! Don’t ever do that again!”

“I’m sorry.”

Dabi and Shouto watch them reunite in silence. Both the mother and the son are leaking tears and exchanging smiles, and holding onto each other as if they haven’t seen each other in ages. The unabashed display of affection is stirring something in Dabi, something uncomfortable he can’t quite name.

“Um, do you want me to hug you too?” he asks awkwardly, glancing down at his stoic brother.

“No,” Shouto replies, which somehow doesn’t make him feel any better.

Fortunately, that’s when the woman seems to notice their presence. She lets out a quiet ‘oh!’, straightens herself while simultaneously wiping away the wetness from her face, and offers them an even more blinding smile.

“Hello there! My name is Midoriya Inko. I’m assuming I have you two to thank for finding my Izuku?”

“It’s more like he found us,” Dabi replies wryly, one corner of his mouth twitching up in amusement. “Seems like him and my little brother have this penchant for running off in common.”

Mrs. Midoriya laughs good-naturedly, ruffling her son’s hair despite his weak embarrassed protests.

“I’m afraid most children have that in common,” she notes, her voice filled with affection. There’s no hiding the love she holds for her son, even if sometimes her smile wavers a little when she looks at him for too long.

Dabi hums in agreement, even if his experience with small children is rather limited. She doesn’t mention the fact that he didn’t offer her their names and so he’s comfortable letting it stay this way for now.

“Well, we should probably get back inside,” Mrs. Midoriya says apologetically. “Still a lot to do, I’m afraid.”

Dabi thinks about his own abandoned shopping cart and winces inwardly. “Yeah, same here.”

Hopefully, it’s still where he left it. He can’t imagine having to find all of that stuff all over again. 

Baby Midoriya’s face falls as soon as he hears that, his joyful expression giving room to crushing disappointment. The boy is clearly attempting to hide it, but the effects are far from convincing. If anything, he seems like he’s on the verge of crying again.

But it’s Shouto’s face, usually blank and indifferent, now filled with longing, that pushes Dabi to act before Mrs. Midoriya can drag Izuku away. Yes, they would probably meet again one way or another, but recently Dabi finds himself unwilling to leave important things up to fate.

“Actually, though, do you think you could give me your number?” She raises an eyebrow at him as if unsure what he means, so he rushes to elaborate. “You know, to maybe set up some playdates? If you’re okay with that? It seems to me like Shouto took a liking to your Izuku.”

“Oh! Really?” Mrs. Midoriya’s face lights up instantly, her smile wide enough to reveal dimples on her cheeks. At her feet, Izuku’s expression is almost an exact mirror of hers. “That would be wonderful! What do you say, Izuku? Would you like to see Shouto again?”

“Yes!” Izuku exclaims, nearly jumping in excitement. It’s only now that Dabi notices a familiar plushie squished in the boy’s hand. “Shouto is so cool, mum! He likes All Might too and he has one just like mine! And, and he knows I’m quirkless but he still said we were friends!”

Next to Dabi, Shouto remains silent, but the small smile on his face is definitely pleased.

“Did he?” Here, Mrs. Midoriya seems more or less as shocked by this as her son did before. The way she glances at them next is somehow even warmer, as impossible as it might sound. “Oh, I’m so glad, Izuku! Of course we need to have playdates! You said to give you my phone number?”                      

They exchange contact info, with Izuku almost vibrating as he tugs on his mother’s shoulder to let him see so he can make sure it’s correct and Shouto smiling slightly in the background. Which, for him, is basically the same level of excitement. Dabi promises to get in touch soon, Mrs. Midoriya thanks them again for taking such good care of her son, and after that, they say their goodbyes and return to their shopping.

(Their cart is gone, because of course it is. Dabi is the universe’s favourite punching bag, after all. Shouto’s fucking lucky Dabi is too afraid of Rei’s ire to drown him in the fish tank like he probably should.)

***

Later, they find themselves sitting on a bench in a small park, having just made a stop at the least suspicious fast food stand they could find on their way home. Dabi’s mouth is greasy from the fries he ordered and his arms burn from carrying all of their shopping bags, but at least he’s no longer at risk of an untimely heart attack. Shouto is munching on an enormous hot dog, perfectly content and completely guilt-free, gazing thoughtfully at the people around them. They have been silent for a while, both too tired from their excursion to waste breath on pointless small talk. Besides, what can you talk about with a toddler anyway?

It's only after they’re passed by a pair of kids running after a ball that his brother finally speaks. Not in his usual deadpan way, but softly, almost shyly.

“Thanks, Touya.”

“Hm? What for?” Dabi asks, glancing at the boy questioningly. That’s when he notices what – or rather who – Shouto is staring at and a fond smile blooms on his face without his permission. “Oh, setting up the playdates?”

Shouto nods. “I’ve never had a friend before,” he says, matter-of-factly, as if that’s not heart-breaking as hell. “I wonder what it’s like.”

Dabi ruffles the boy’s hair and shoots him a grin. “Pretty fucking brilliant.” He considers leaving it at that, but something pushes him to go on. “That Midoriya kid seems alright. He should make a decent first friend.”

“I like him,” Shouto confesses, nervously, as if afraid someone might hear and berate him for ‘showing weakness’ or whatever bullshit Endeavor instilled in him. Then, his face pulls itself into a frown. “I didn’t like the angry one.”

Dabi’s not sure if he should laugh at the sweet irony of that or encourage this attitude. Whatever change of heart the Bakugou brat goes through in the future to make Shouto and Midoriya willing to date him is clearly years away from now and besides, Dabi’s not sure if he likes the thought of someone like that near his brother. Then again, the boy is just a child. He can still change and, anyway, who is he to dictate his brother’s happiness?

Anyway, he’s getting ahead of himself. Shouto is only six. The future isn’t set in stone. For all he knows, now that the boy might be allowed to attend regular school, he might meet someone entirely different to have his heart stolen by.  

“No one likes bullies.” He shrugs, deciding to let things play out as naturally as possible. No need to meddle, at least not this early. “Except other bullies. And, unfortunately, most people are bullies.”

“That’s not true,” Shouto argues, scrunching his eyebrows.

A smile tugs on the corners on Dabi’s mouth, but he keeps his expression playfully haughty. “And how would you know that? It’s not like you know that many people.”

Not one to back away from a challenge, it seems, Shouto puffs his cheeks and starts counting on his fingers. “I know you and mum, and father, and Yumi, and Natsu, and Keigo, and now Izuku and Izuku’s mum. And only father is a bully. So one out of eight. That’s not most. Most is more than half. One out of eight is not more than half.”

“Stop talking math to me or I will throw all of your soba away.”

Stricken, the boy pouts and corrects himself, “Okay, two out of eight.”

“Brat.”

The conversation lulls, so Shouto returns to his unreasonably sized hot-dog and Dabi returns to battling his annoying thoughts. No matter how hard he tries to make his stupid brain shut up for a moment, it just won’t listen, playing the same tunes over and over. If it goes on for much longer, he fears he might go crazy.

First, there’s the test tomorrow. He’s reasonably sure he will pass, with all the studying he’s done, all the smart people youtube videos he’s watched – his recommendations are going to get so fucked-up from this, he can already tell – and the, admittedly, invaluable help from Keigo. He can’t still sincerely say he understands anything about math, what with so much of the basics missing, but he should be able to at least solve the kind of questions that they practiced.

Should being the key word.

It’s not like he particularly wants to be a hero, even after all that’s happened recently. It will probably never be something he truly desires, not like Keigo does, not like Hawks did. But the truth is, he can’t see himself doing anything else. What is he going to do, if not this? Work at Burger King? Be a mailman? Not to mention he really fucking likes his little vigilanting gig. Being a hero, an underground one like Eraser, will not be that different, probably, and at least he won’t be risking going to jail anymore. And he will be paid for it.

So he needs to get that 50%. Otherwise, he will be fucked. But no pressure, right?

Then there’s the whole Jin situation. Dabi’s still pissed about that, which is ridiculous in a way, because he’s known all along that life isn’t fair, hasn’t he? Good people get fucked over for no reason and entitled assholes thrive on their misfortune. It’s always been like that. Why should it be any different for Jin?

He will have to call the man tomorrow, ask him if everything is fine. Sure, Endeavor did promise to help, but Dabi would be an idiot to trust anything that comes out of his father’s mouth. Only way he will believe it is to hear the confirmation straight from the source.

First Toga, now Jin. He didn’t even mean to, but somehow he managed to help two of his friends, hopefully preventing them from turning to villainy and guiding them towards better lives. That’s an achievement he wouldn’t dare to imagine even a month ago. Maybe he’s not such an awful time traveller, after all.

Maybe... maybe he could save the others too.

Now, that’s a thought. Quite an ambitious goal, but wouldn’t it be worth it? He’s dismissed the idea at first, those few weeks prior, deeming it too difficult, but now he’s forced to reconsider. Because, well, what are the odds of him randomly coming across not one but two of his friends in such a short span of time since getting here? Pretty fucking small, he would assume. Doesn’t that mean that, perhaps, the universe wants him to find and help all of his future family?

Which, again, easier said than done.

Spinner, he’s not sure about. He doesn’t know where to look for him and, even if he did, there’s not much he could do. Spinner’s issues were always caused by his quirk, or rather by the way society perceived it, and the discrimination he faced because of it. That’s not something Dabi can just fix for him, no matter how much he might want to. He will keep an eye out for him, sure, but other than that, there’s not a lot he can offer.

Mr. Compress has always been an enigma. All they managed to get from him is that he started his villain career as quite a successful thief, citing Oji Harima as his inspiration, that he used to work as some sort of performer, and that, it seems, he did not have any tragic backstory behind his actions, only a strong conviction that society needed to be fixed. From Dabi’s estimations, the man would be around twenty right now, so there’s a chance he might not have begun his criminal activities yet, but the problem is, there’s nothing to save him from. Mr. Compress was probably the only one of them who became a villain completely out of his own free will.

So that left only three of them that he could actually help. Shigaraki, Kurogiri and Magne.

Thinking of Magne still sends a flash of pain through his stomach, his fingers twitching with leftover fury at that fucker Overhaul. Her life was a shit show from beginning until the very end. Constantly subjected to abuse for her gender identity, unable to fully transition due to the lack of funds and support, invalidated and alone except for one friend. She, like Compress, would be in her early twenties now. There’s a chance that, if given a way to actually be herself, she would not turn to crime. And if she still does, well, at least she’s going to look exactly how she wants to look while doing it.

Dabi nods to himself. Yes, this shouldn’t be hard to arrange. He knows Magne’s legal name, he can track her down. What she needs the most is money and, luckily, money is something Dabi can offer without a problem. Of course, money won’t solve everything, certainly won’t erase transphobia or the legal issues she would need to face, but it would no doubt make it much easier. Maybe he can somehow arrange for her and Jin to meet too, to give them both some more support network. Yeah, that sounds achievable.  

Now, for Shigaraki and Kurogiri…

He knows where they are, of course. Or rather, with whom. Shigaraki would be just a child, yet already being groomed to become a successor for that madman, with Kurogiri dutifully serving as his caretaker. Both well-hidden and strictly protected, doubtlessly. When he first arrived in the past, getting them out seemed impossible. After all, who could dream of beating All For One? And at full power too. Definitely not him.

However... there is one such person. Although the thought alone makes him sick, he can’t not consider it. Because it’s an undeniable truth, with everything that happened in the future, that were All Might properly prepared and in prime physical state, he would be able to win against AFO. Maybe even kill him for good, which would spare them all a lot of trouble.

Getting in contact with All Might, let alone convincing him to listen long enough for Dabi to explain, seems a lot like an endeavour doomed to fail. The man, despite constantly being in the spotlight, is surprisingly private about his civilian life. Contacting him through his agency could work, maybe, but his age and his connection to Endeavor would surely raise red flags, or, at most, be dismissed as a joke. He’s sure thousands of people request audiences with All Might every day. There’s no reason why in particular he should actually be granted one.

If the request came from another hero though... well, that would be a different matter, wouldn’t it? Endeavor would never do that, of course, and he would ask too many questions. But Dabi has Aizawa now. Despite being so young and relatively new to the hero gig, the man seems to already have a lot of connections. It’s not a stretch to assume he could get a message to All Might, if it was urgent enough...

He will ask Aizawa, he decides. First, he will survive the test tomorrow, then he will make sure Jin is doing alright, and then, on Monday, once their internship starts, he will beg the hero to get him a meeting with All Might. After that, the rest will be up to fate.

Of course, it won’t be that easy—

“Touya? Did you die?”

He blinks, startled out of his musings. Shouto’s hot-dog is gone now, the only evidence of its existence a stain of ketchup on his brother’s right cheek. The boy is staring at him with an unreadable expression, his head tilted slightly sideways. Damn, he must have spaced out for longer than he realized.  

“Sorry,” he mutters, attempting a reassuring smile. “I was thinking.”

The explanation only appears to worsen the boy’s mood. He clenches his fists around the hem of his t-shirt, munching slightly on his lower lip.

“Are you mad?” he asks quietly, after a moment of silence.

“What?” Dabi frowns, feeling like he’s not quite following this conversation. “Why would I be mad?”

“’Cause I called you a bully,” Shouto explains. “I didn’t mean it.”

“I’m not mad,” Dabi promises, laughing a little. To empathize his words, he ruffles his brother’s hair again. “I’m just stressed about that test tomorrow, that’s all.”

“Oh, right. You go to school.” Shouto blinks owlishly. “I forgot.”

“Enjoy your luck while it lasts,” Dabi snorts, then licks his finger and wipes the ketchup from his brother’s cheek. The boy makes a face and wipes at it again, to get rid of the leftover saliva, which only serves to amuse Dabi even more. “Soon, you will be joining us in the suffering.”

Shouto, unexplainably, seems somewhat excited by the prospect. Dabi pities his future teachers.

“Anyway, it’s getting late,” he adds, noticing the gradual dripping of the sun over the horizon. “We should be heading home.”

His brother doesn’t offer any protests, simply sliding off the bench without a word. Taking this as agreement, Dabi gathers their groceries and begins to lead them out of the park. They could call for the car, technically – it would definitely come in handy with the bags, that’s for sure – but it’s not that far and Dabi’s in a mood for a walk. Both his hands are busy, so he very sternly orders Shouto to stay close and don’t wander off, threatening to cancel his playdate with Izuku if he gets lost again. After that, his brother’s little hand grabs Dabi’s sleeve and holds on for dear life the entire way.

It's only once they’re less than five minutes from the house that Shouto speaks again.

“Touya?” Dabi hums, to show that he’s listening. “Thank you.”

Dabi smiles fondly. “You already thanked me, Shou.”

But his brother shakes his head. “Not for the playdates.”

He doesn’t look up from his shoes, his small hands fidgeting at his sides. There’s a lot of conflicting emotions on his usually stoic face – as though he really wants to say something but isn’t sure he should. A few adorable creases form on his scrunched forehead as he chews on his lower lip. Dabi doesn’t think he’s ever seen him this nervous before, at least not without Endeavor in the room.

Finally, he mumbles, almost inaudibly, “For making dad nicer.”

Dabi almost trips. Out of everything his mind could have come up with, this is probably the last thing he would expect to hear. Wide-eyed, he pulls them both to an abrupt stop, putting the bags down in the middle of the sidewalk and not giving a single fuck about that fact, because this is the kind of conversation during which you want to be able to look the other person in the eye.

Crouching down so they’re on the same level, Dabi puts a hand on Shouto’s shoulder and forces the boy to glance up at him. He’s not sure what his expression is because there’s a hurricane of million different emotions swirling inside his brain.

“Why do you think I made dad nicer, Shou?”

His brother frowns. “You yelled at him a lot. And then he got nicer.”

Yeah, that sounds like toddler logic. But since Shouto is a toddler, Dabi will have to forgive him.

“Did he really?” He cocks an eyebrow. “Don’t you remember what happened at the museum?”

A shiver goes down Shouto’s spine. “Okay, that wasn’t nice,” he admits reluctantly. “But we went to the museum. We wouldn’t before. And he played games with us and didn’t shout.” The last part, he mumbles, almost inaudibly, “And he doesn’t train me anymore.”

Right. Well, he can’t exactly argue with that reasoning. To him, it might be obvious how fake and surface-level Endeavor’s change is, but Shouto’s world is much simpler than his. Dad doesn’t yell as much anymore, doesn’t burn him and played a game with them, so he’s ten times better than before. He doesn’t have any reference to know how far from a good parent it still is.  

“And he won’t,” Dabi promises, squeezing Shouto’s shoulder a little and sending him a smile. “Father knows now that it’s bad to hurt you.” Or, he knows he’s not allowed to, more like. “There will be no more training.”

He expects his brother to brighten up or at least nod and go back to his usual indifference, but instead the boy hangs his head, suddenly seeming shy again.

“Hey, what is it? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Shouto mumbles, playing with the hem of his t-shirt. “It’s just… You’re nicer too.”

Dabi can feel himself stiffen. A wave of shame hits him like a fucking truck. He did not treat his youngest brother well as a teenager, he remembers that much. He was never outright abusive or anything, but he was definitely cold and even rude at times. He did love him, in a way, and he did what he could to try to protect him, but when it came to being a good brother… yeah, his younger self kind of sucked in that department, too consumed by both resentment and jealousy to notice the innocent child where he could only see his father’s perfect masterpiece.

How sad it is that the villain version of him apparently seems nicer to Shouto than his actual fifteen-year-old brother did.

“Guess I am,” he admits softly, after a few seconds of tense silence, brushing the few wayward strands of double coloured hair away from Shouto’s face. “Sorry if I wasn’t very nice to you before. I was being stupid. If I ever do that again, you’re officially allowed to punch me, okay?”

“Oh. Really?”

Dabi smiles, feeling like the worst asshole in the world at hearing the awe in Shouto’s voice. “Really, really.”

“Okay,” the boy says, but then he’s munching on his lip again, a habit Dabi should probably be discouraging. He obviously has something to say still. “Touya… you do like me, right? Because I thought maybe you didn’t, but now you’re nice, so…”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Shou,” Dabi interrupts the moment he’s reasonably sure he won’t start cursing himself after opening his mouth. “Of course I like you.”

“You do?” His brother lights up, a small smile finally gracing his puggy little face.

“Sure. I will even tell you a secret,” he says, leaning closer to whisper into Shouto’s ear. “You’re actually my favourite.”

“Oh,” Shouto says again, his eyes hopeful and a little wide. His smile spreads into a full grin and before Dabi can react, he puts his little arms around Dabi’s neck and hugs him clumsily. “You’re my favourite too.”

Dabi doesn’t cry, because he’s an adult and also not a pussy, but his throat tightens around an invisible gulp. He promises himself to be a better brother to Shouto from now on, even if he loses them ten more fucking shopping carts. Maybe he can get him some more All Might merch – it would piss off Endeavor and he would have something to show off to Midoriya. Double win. Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. Is it bribery? Perhaps. But, hey, he needs to earn that favourite title somehow, doesn’t he?  

Eventually, they pull apart, gather their belongings, and stop blocking the sidewalk. They get back home in a companionable silence, both somehow lighter, as if some awful weight has been lifted off their shoulders. Even the bags in Dabi’s hands don’t feel quite so heavy anymore. 

And Shouto? Shouto doesn’t stop smiling for the rest of the day.  

***

Of course, in the words of amazing singer Nelly Furtado, all good things eventually come to an end. No matter how heart-warming his interaction with Shouto might have been and how many mushy emotions it has left him with, the moment Dabi wakes the next morning all he can feel is dread.

It’s different than the usual, life-or-death kind of dread that he’s used to dealing with, in a way he can’t quite explain. Frankly, he thinks it’s ridiculous. After surviving on the streets for so many years, becoming a crazed murderer, joining a terrorist organization and attempting to destroy the world, something as mundane as a math test should not be giving him this much anxiety.

And yet.

He groans, searching around for his phone without opening his eyes. Something brushes his fingers and then there’s a thump of that object meeting the floor. That would be his math textbook.

Once he manages to locate his phone, however, he inevitably needs to push his eyes open – you know, to see the screen. The screen that’s definitely too bright, what the fuck. He squints, trying to lower the brightness, but, of course, it’s already as low as it can be. Figures.  

Fuck, he’s so tired. Rubbing at his face and even slapping himself lightly doesn’t really help. It’s not surprising, not after staying up until 3 AM, attempting to drill as much last-minute knowledge into his stupid brain as humanly possible, but inconvenient nevertheless . He should have called it quits much sooner. It’s not like he succeeded in anything other than almost making himself cry anyway, he might have at least gotten some more semi-peaceful sleep. And now even that won’t be an option – he’s going to have nightmares about numbers for the next week, he’s sure about it.

The scorched edges of his textbook seem to be taunting him from the floor.

(He vows to himself, the moment he comes back, he will make it much more than just lightly scorched. Just watch him.)  

Seriously, why is running around town to beat people up less exhausting than staring at the same page for fifteen minutes, hoping its contents will magically get imported into your mind? It’s just not fair.

In his inbox, there are four unread messages from chicken nugget <3333, sent last night, probably right after Dabi finally passed out from using his brain too much in one sitting.

FROM: chicken nugget <3333

just go to sleep already dumbass

you’re not going to pass it if you’re dead on your feet tomorrow

i really hope the lack of answer means you’re already asleep

goodnight ^^  

Dabi smiles against himself. It’s nice that Keigo cares. Especially since he’s writing the same test today and is probably super stressed himself – for no reason, since he’s a damn genius who could probably pass it without studying at all, but that’s beside the point. Feeling warm, he goes to type an answer when…

“Holy fuck!”

He jumps out of bed like it’s on fire. How could he be so dumb? He forgot to turn on his alarm! And he needs to be at school in – he makes a quick calculation – fifteen minutes!

Forgoing shower or any hygiene really, other than brushing his hair with his fingers, Dabi puts on the school uniform – there’s no time to think of something more stylish – grabs his backpack and hurries downstairs to grab an apple before sprinting out of the house. Fortunately for him, the car is already waiting, so he jumps inside and orders the man to floor it, all the while frantically searching for his notebook in which he wrote down all the most necessary things he’s going to need for one last revision.

The drive seems to simultaneously go on for hours and be finished in seconds. The sinking feeling in his stomach only gets worse after he steps out of the car. It’s the day of truth. If he can’t pass that test, his education here is over.

No pressure or something.

Maybe it’s a good thing he’s so late – having to get from the gates of the school to their classroom in one minute leaves him no time to panic. Panting, he reaches the room right before the teacher is about to close the door. She shoots him a disapproving glare that he answers with a smile and then stumbles over to his usual seat.

It takes him way too long after she starts talking to realize there’s no Keigo in front of him.

Where the fuck is he? Keigo’s never late, let alone absent. That boy is a teacher’s pet, a star student, he doesn’t just miss class for no reason, especially not when there’s an important test. Feeling his concern rise, Dabi fishes out his phone and secretly types a short message.

TO: chicken nugget <3333

where tf are you?

Here. Now all he has to do is wait.    

Only, the answer doesn’t come. Not immediately, not after five minutes, not even after the class is finished and they have a moment for themselves before the next teacher arrives. Frowning, Dabi sends him another message of similar contents, this time accompanied by two question marks at the end to highlight the worry that begins to stir in Dabi’s stomach. Logically, he knows he’s being irrational – Keigo is probably just sick or he might have overslept or maybe his mother really needed his help with something and he forgot to take his phone with him – but he can’t help it. It’s extremely annoying. As if he doesn’t have enough things to stress about today.

“Good morning, class,” the teacher of one of the easiest subjects greets them once he finally gets there, putting his bag down in a hurry and then going to prepare the screen and the projector. “Today we’re going to watch something very interesting. Pay close attention, because there might be questions related to this movie on the final exam.”

Quickly deciding that the movie is definitely not going to be very interesting, Dabi sneakily pulls out his math notes. This is an hour he isn’t going to waste. The test is next period, the fact that his malfunctioning brain keeps reminding him about, so any second of last minute cramming he can get right now is worth more than gold. Letting the noise from the projector fade into the background, he focuses on the definition of quadratic functions and their uses with the attention he only ever used to reserve for drugs, sex and murder. He will pass this damned test even if it’s the last thing he does. 

Unfortunately for him and his knowledge of trigonometry, the lesson seems to come to an end in mere seconds. Before he knows it, the lights are back on and the teacher is thanking them for their attention, all the while half of the class is busy hiding their phones and hastily copied homework back into their backpacks. Pretending not to see any of it, the man wishes them a nice rest of the day and leaves.

Anxiety grips Dabi’s throat once more when all the other students quickly reach for their own notes and begin to frantically repeat whatever they can, sometimes alone, much more often in small groups. He forces his eyes back to his barely readable scribbles and misshapen drawings of triangles and regular tetrahedrons, but suddenly they seem to be making even less sense than before. Everything he thought he knew just straight up leaves his brain in a matter of seconds. What’s a polynomial? What the hell do you do with a geometric sequence? All he can see in front of him is a bunch of meaningless numbers.

Oh fuck, he’s so screwed.

“Hey, Todoroki!” someone calls to him and it might have been followed by laughter, but he’s too busy panicking to pay attention to such unimportant details. “Hey, did you—”

“Shut up,” he growls, accidentally crumpling the paper in his hands.

His voice must come out aggressive enough to give whoever it was a pause, probably reminding them what happened to the last guy who made Dabi angry, because they instantly back off. Smart decision on their part – which means it likely wasn’t Kaneko, some part of his consciousness notices. But even if it was, or if hell was freezing over, or the pigs started flying, or whatever other ridiculous shit might happen, he wouldn’t be able to find a single fuck to give about it.

He has about five minutes left to learn 60% of the entirety of math, if he doesn’t want to get kicked out and be shamed by everyone forever. A sexy shrek cosplayer in a mini dress could march into the room right now and Dabi would pay him no mind, unless he could tell him how to calculate the area of a parallelogram.

His woeful plight is cruelly interrupted by Junko-sensei, who walks inside looking way too cheerful for someone who’s just about to ruin his life. She’s hugging a thick stack of papers to her chest, papers with numerous numbers printed on it, numbers small enough that there’s at least five problems to solve on a single page.

Dabi isn’t a religious person, but suddenly he has a strong urge to pray.   

“Welcome, my dear students,” she says with a joy of a sadist. Her eyes don’t stray into his direction even for a moment, but somehow he feels as if she’s talking solely to him anyway. “Today is the day. The last test before the final exam. I hope everyone is prepared, because I will be expecting all of you to get good grades. I don’t think it’s very difficult, but I will let you decide that for yourself. Please, hide everything from your desks other than a pen and let’s begin. You will need all the time you can get.”

They do as they’re told, well used to the ritual, although Dabi’s heart almost breaks when he has to part with his beloved notes. Normally, he would have used them to cheat, but he has a feeling Junko-sensei will be observing him more carefully this time and that she wouldn’t be lenient if she caught him. It’s safer to try to be honest for now and think about cheating when he has no other choice, sweating over the second problem with three minutes to spare until the end.

Staying true to her intention of not wasting any time, she doesn’t give them long to get ready mentally before she starts giving out the tests. Each student mutters a quiet ‘thank you’ after receiving theirs as if there was anything to be grateful for. She should be saying ‘sorry’ to them for subjecting them to such horrors.

When she gets to him, she takes one copy and offers it to him like to everyone else, but then pauses and raises an eyebrow at the empty seat in front of him. “Is Takami sick?”

That’s a million dollar question, sensei. He would sure like to know himself. But he wouldn’t be a good fake boyfriend if he didn’t at least try to save Keigo’s ass, would he? The problem is, he’s not sure what a safe answer would be here. Are you even allowed to be sick in school? If it was up to Endeavor, it certainly wouldn’t be, he thinks wryly.

“Yes, he wasn’t feeling very well today,” he says, deciding it’s still a better excuse than anything else he could come up with.

She hums. “Well, I hope it’s nothing serious. Tell him he will have to talk with me about setting up a date to make up for this test, okay?”

“Sure, I will let him know.” If he kindly answers his phone, that is.

Satisfied, she finally lets him take his copy of the test, which he does, with way more trepidation than he would have ever expected a piece of paper to cause. Placing it in front of him, he grips the pen tighter, his eyes already scanning through the instructions.

Before she moves to the next person, the teacher sends him a small encouraging smile and says, “Good luck.”

Which really isn’t as helpful as she thinks it is.

Aware that he has no time to waste, he tries to force the pressure to the back of his mind, instead focusing solely on getting these problems right. Or at least three fifths of them. He has been studying a lot, it shouldn’t be impossible. It’s just numbers, right? It can’t be too hard.

Fake confidence has gotten him through a lot, it can get him through a fucking math test as well. With renewed vigour, he quickly signs his name – that, at least, he’s almost sure he’s done correctly – and carefully starts reading the first instruction, absentmindedly putting the tip of the pen into his mouth.

Whether it’s his luck, the numerous hours of cramming or stress-induced hallucinations, none of the problems seem very difficult at first. He understands all of the words – that’s an accomplishment in and on itself – and in most cases there’s at least a slight idea how to go about solving the problems. Rejuvenated, he grins to himself and begins to scribble down the answers.

Unfortunately, time is not his friend. And yes, he realizes the irony of that statement. What he means here is that while he may be able to do most of the exercises, the hour passes by ridiculously quickly and so, by the end, he’s frantically adding anything he can think of to the already very chaotic calculations, cursing under his breath and staring in hopeless frustration at the few problems he didn’t even get to.

Eventually, he’s forced to give the unfinished test back, feeling a little disgruntled but all in all not as awful as he was dreading he would. Sure, it won’t be anywhere near Keigo’s usual hundred percent, even he’s not delusional enough to believe that, but it should be enough for him to pass. Hopefully.

The next class they have is a practical one, so everyone gets busy packing their stuff and chatting among each other about how they did. Before he can set them all on fire, he puts his hands on his ears to muffle them out. The last thing he wants right now is to hear someone say what they got in a particular exercise only for it to be something else than he had. Almost on auto-pilot, he turns his head to where Keigo should be as if to comment about their annoying classmates, only to catch himself halfway through, remembering his friend isn’t there.

It’s in moments like this that Dabi realizes how much he got used to Keigo’s constant presence. He’s itching to have someone to talk to about the test, to complain about its unfairness and worry about the results together. The bird better have a good reason for not coming today or they’re going to have words.

Fed up with everything, he grabs his backpack and heads for the door, barely stifling a groan at the thought of having to do physical exercises with his useless classmates without Keigo for company. If they end up doing dodgeball again, he might just start throwing literal fireballs.

As he passes the teacher’s desk on his way out, Junko-sensei sends him another smile, this one accompanied by a silent question in her eyes. Truthfully, he shrugs is response. She’s the teacher here, she has the tests in her hands, she can see for herself.

He doesn’t want to see that cursed piece of paper ever again.                  

Chapter Text

“…and I only realised that I misses the fucking minus there after I already gave it back! Can you believe that? It’s bullshit, that’s what it is. I knew how do to it, I did everything right, but that one fucking minus will make it all wrong!”

Natsuo only hums in complete disinterest, eyes locked on the game he’s currently busy playing. His character, some sexy lady in an unrealistically skin-tight costume, is mercilessly shooting yet another person, blood and brain pieces splashing all over the screen.

Dabi turns over on his brother’s bed, now laying on his stomach and glaring at the heartless traitor, who doesn’t even have enough decency to notice.

“Are you even listening to me? Do you know how important that test was? How am I supposed to know I haven’t messed up everything else if I couldn’t even notice a stupid minus?”

Still no reaction, just another low hum and a few more people murdered in cold blood, skilled little fingers holding the pad as if it’s the most precious thing in the entire world. Not even a sliver of compassion for his despairing older brother. What was he even expecting coming here to vent? Siblings are the worst.

“Aren’t you too young for this game?”

“You’re free to leave if you have a problem with it.”

“Oh, so now you can hear me?” Dabi grumbles, taking a pillow lying next to him and throwing it at his brother. Unfortunately, his brand new gamer chair has such a high back that it misses the target completely, smacking the chair instead of the annoying child sitting in it, and then falling pitifully to the ground.

“I really would prefer not to,” Natsuo says blankly, acting like he haven’t even noticed the attempted assault on his person. “Go away.”

“No. There’s no one else I can whine at about it.”

“And why do you think you can whine at me?”

Dabi grins, knowing that even though he can’t see it from where he’s sitting, Natsuo will be able to hear it in his voice. “Because I don’t think you can do anything to stop me.”

If he’s being honest, coming to bother Natsuo wasn’t his first choice. Once he got back home, he tried to call Keigo again, but even after six consecutive attempts nobody picked up, making the awful pit in his stomach increase tenfold. He was going to walk to the other’s house and demand an explanation, but then he remembered he doesn’t actually know Keigo’s current address. Frustrated and bored, he needed something to distract him from the progressively terrible intrusive thoughts about Keigo getting kidnapped, murdered or finally converted into fast food by some crazy KFC employee. It was still too early for vigilanting though, so he went for another thing that always makes him feel better – irritating his siblings.

“Do you want to find out?” the boy asks darkly, gripping his pad tighter. On the screen, a pair of children gets run over by a stolen car Natsuo’s character is attempting to drive.

A laugh escapes from Dabi’s mouth. “What are you going to do? Suffocate me with a pillow?”

Finally looking away from his game, Natsuo glances down at the pillow lying under his chair and then up at Dabi, his expression calculating. After an uncomfortable moment of intense eye contact, Natsuo mutters, “Don’t tempt me.”

And turns back to his game.

“Ugh,” Dabi groans, disappointed. That was a reaction of some kind, he placates himself. Not as violent as he would like to, but better than nothing, right? “How can you be so heartless? My future depends on that shitty test! And now there’s a real possibility that I did everything wrong!”

“First of all, you only think that because you’re so stressed about it. You probably did fine, it’s just one minus,” Natsuo reasons, surprisingly wisely for a ten-year-old. “Second of all, I thought you said you didn’t really want to be a hero? So why do you care so much?”

Why indeed.

He knows he’s being ridiculous. So what if he decided to give heroing a chance? It’s just one of many possible routes his new life can take. Sure, it would be nice to pass, but if he doesn’t make it, so what? There’s a million other jobs he can do. It won’t be the end of the world. He knows that.

Yet, his brain simply refuses to believe that. Anxiety isn’t a choice, it’s just something your traitorous body throws at you at the least convenient moment. He can’t help but stress about it, especially after he studied so much, after he finally put real effort into something. If he fails now, won’t it just prove that he’s been a failure all along? That his father was right? Because if he can’t even pass one stupid test, what does it say about him?

He doesn’t voice any of that, of course. Natsuo doesn’t need his trauma dump.

“I changed my mind,” is what he ends up saying instead. It’s very simplified and ignores a lot of nuance , but it’s true enough. “I want to prove father that I can be a better hero than he could ever be. That you can help people without caring about fame or what some stupid ranking says about you, and that you can do all that without destroying your family.”

“Speaking of family,” Natsuo picks up, not really reacting in any way to Dabi’s explanation. “Why don’t you go bother Keigo? At least he chose to be your boyfriend, for whatever reason. I didn’t have a choice to be related to you. He should be the one listening to your existential crisis, not me.”

“Keigo’s ignoring me,” he replies, because it’s easier than admit he has no idea where the hell he is and what’s happening to him.

Not missing a bit, Natsuo nods in understanding. “Finally, a smart choice on his part.”

Dabi pouts at him. “Have you been spending more time with Shouto recently?”

“Nope,” the boy replies cheerfully. “It’s all you.”

“Oh my god,” Dabi whispers in a horrified realization, sitting up on the bed to highlight the seriousness of the situation. “I made you mean. This is unacceptable. I wanted you to be mean to dad. You’re not supposed to be mean to me.”

“Too bad,” Natsuo sing-songs, smirking smugly as he blows another guy’s brains out.

This game isn’t even realistic, Dabi thinks bitterly. The blood wouldn’t splatter like that. The creators clearly had no experience with actual murder.

“I thought I was your favourite sibling,” he whines at Natsu, throwing himself forward in such a way that half of his body hangs off the bed miserably. “And yet you treat me so cruelly.”

“Actually, I think Shouto is my favourite now,” Natsuo twists the knife his flippant behaviour has already stabbed into Dabi’s guts. He’s grinning so widely now that if anyone saw him, they would think he’s just heard the funniest joke ever, not that he’s in the middle of making his brother cry. “At least he’s not talking to me about math.” He shivers in disgust as he says the last word.

That’s something Dabi can sympathize with. The rest of that statement? Unacceptable.

“You dare say such things to me, brother?” Dabi says darkly, narrowing his eyes in rage.

He stands up from the bed and turns the chair around, forcing Natsuo to face him, while also causing his character to get killed in the process. Oops.

“Hey!”

“I can’t believe you would betray me like this,” Dabi continues, his voice grave, ignoring his brother’s little kicks that try to push him away. “You will now face consequences of your actions.”

“Get away from me!” Natsuo yells, but his voice is quickly drowned out by Dabi’s warrior cry as he grabs the younger boy by his waist and throws him on the bed, where he immediately begins to tickle him mercilessly. Between his giggles and breathless laughter, he manages to shriek, “Stop! Stop, I’m sorry, haha, stop! Touya, please!”

Grinning down at the red-faced boy, Dabi pauses his torture for a moment, raising an eyebrow as if deep in thought. “Oh? What are you sorry for, young man?”

Panting and still trying to push Dabi away, Natsuo giggles again and says, “Nothing! I’m not sorry about anything!”

“Oh, really?” Dabi asks with scepticism. “Then let’s make sure you are.”

And he resumes his tickling punishment, enjoying the hysterical laughing accompanied by cries for help. This time though, his brother doesn’t take it lying down. He tries to grab Dabi’s wrists to stop him – with varying results – and uses his legs to kick wherever he can reach. Not one to be conquered by a ten-year-old, Dabi increases the intensity of his tickling, hoping to distract Natsuo enough to make him stop trying to get free. It works, more or less, causing the boy to throw his head back, breathing heavily and laughing like a madman.

“Come on, Touya, stop! Haha, please! You asshole!”

“That’s not the way you should talk to your beloved brother,” Dabi replies calmly, ignoring the well-aimed kick to his stomach and the resulting pain. “Kick me all you want, pain isn’t something that can stop me.”

“Haha, fuck you, haha!”

Putting on a disapproving expression, Dabi tsks at his brother’s crude language. “If you want me to stop, all you have to do is say sorry. And admit I’m your favourite sibling.”

“Okay, haha, okay, I’m sorry! For real! Haha, please, stop!”

Noticing a hint of real discomfort in Natsuo’s voice, Dabi instantly stops and leans back, smirking down at the defeated enemy, very satisfied with the results of his plan. He knew he still had it in him. Sometimes, a good tickling attack is the only way to convince a kid to do something. It was the same with Toga, only with her you had to also be careful not to get stabbed while she was trying to defend herself. Fun times.

“Now, you need to say I’m your favourite.”

Instead of obeying, Natsuo crosses his arms defiantly and pouts. “You’re not. Especially right now. You’re awful.”

There’s a very obvious joking undertone to his brother’s voice. Logically, Dabi knows Natsuo is just teasing him, playing along, as a part of their game. It’s something they’ve done many times before – none of the things they say are supposed to be real. And yet, for some reason, this time actually hurts a little. As if, somewhere deep inside, he’s afraid that his brother is telling the truth.

Probably noticing the lack of a witty comeback and Dabi’s general deflating, Natsuo’s face turns a little more serious, his voice taking on a hesitant note, “But… maybe I could consider making you a favourite again, if you played with me. And bought me lots of chocolate. That’s also very important.”

Dabi blinks. “You want me to play this extremely violent, absolutely not kid-friendly, unrealistic video game with you?”

“And chocolate,” Natsuo adds hastily, as if he was worried Dabi would forget. Then he averts his gaze slightly, trying to hide his embarrassment. “But I have two pads. It’s a little boring playing on my own.”

“I have no idea how to play this game though,” Dabi lies, because that’s what Touya would probably say. He doesn’t remember being big on video games in his younger years. It was all Spinner and Shigaraki’s fault that he finally learned how to kick ass in everything, starting from Mario Cart and ending with Dance Dance Revolution.

“I can teach you,” the boy offers, smiling smugly. “It will be fun watching you fail.”

Hiding his evil grin, Dabi pretends to be a little apprehensive as he accepts the challenge. “You’re on.”

Natsuo won’t even know what hit him.

***

Much later, after he thoroughly wiped the floor with his naïve little brother in every single game they played, Dabi finds himself smoking in his window again.

His heart jumps in his chest at every sound he hears, hands ready to throw the cigarette out the moment he notices his door opening. The smell would still certainly give him away, but he would at least be able to play dumb. Someone would have thought that, now that his mother knows the truth, he wouldn’t need to hide his nasty habit. Wrong. Mental adult or not, she apparently cannot support her child smoking and, besides, doing it inside the house makes the smell linger.

So, he continues to sneak around. He could, technically, just go out and do it outside, but then she would know and she would look at him all disappointed. He much prefers the stress of hiding. And, well, the thrill of doing something illegal is always nice, even if the illegal deed in question is hiding his cigs from his mum.

His phone pings and he almost breaks his favourite glass trying to grab it. His hopes get crushed cruelly when he sees the message is not from Keigo – the Keigo who still hasn’t texted him back.

He sighs, exhaling the cloud of smoke, and checks it anyway. Turns out it’s Jin, letting him know everything’s fine and asking if Dabi wants to check out his new place and maybe hang out. Dabi’s about to decline, considering it’s already after eight and he probably should at least try to respect some of Rei’s rules. But then he realizes that if he stays, he won’t stop worrying about Keigo and tomorrow is a Saturday anyway, so he’s free to sleep in, and replies with a question about the address.

After receiving it, he extinguishes the cigarette against the window sill, throws the stub out, and begins rummaging through his wardrobe for something fun to wear. With his school insisting on uniforms and his vigilanting requiring anonymity, he rarely gets an opportunity to dress up these days, which is a travesty, really. He didn’t spend so much of his father’s money on slutty, stroke-inducing clothes not to wear them.  

(It doesn’t cross his mind until later that if any of his parents saw him dressed like that on his way to visit Jin, he would never beat the ‘sleeping with him’ allegations.)

Bothering his driver about this seems a bit insensitive – it is quite late, after all – so instead he copies the address into Google Maps and searches for the public transport options. It’s not terribly far, fortunately, and doesn’t seem to be in a particularly bad neighbourhood. Nowhere near as fancy as theirs, but that’s probably for the best. The white-picket-fence types would eat someone like Jin alive within a week.

Nobody stops him on his way out, but since he’s trying to be more considerate now, he shoots his mum a text informing her he’s going out and might be back late. He also sends a few texts to Keigo, although at this point he’s not even expecting an answer. It just makes him feel a tiny bit less useless.

The map tells him to go to his usual train station, so that’s exactly what he does. There aren’t many people outside at this hour, but he takes pleasure in silently judging the few that are. There’s a couple saying their goodbyes by the woman’s car, for example. They’re both attractive enough and they both appear happy, which would be great, if the guy wasn’t so obviously a teenager. They honestly resemble a mother and a son more than a couple – except for the fact you would probably not be shoving your tongue down your mother’s throat like that.

An unexpected shiver goes down Dabi’s spine. The evening is a little chilly, so he pulls his studded leather jacket tighter around himself and speeds up his steps. He should probably make a stop at a supermarket somewhere along the way – it wouldn’t do to show up at a housewarming party without a gift. Jin wouldn’t be expecting anything, of course, he’s kind like that, but, really, it’s just more reason to do it.  

Finally, he arrives. The place turns out to be… nice. Just nice. Nothing extraordinary to it at all. The neighbourhood is perfectly average. The apartment block is as normal as it can get. It’s not visibly run-down, it’s also not outstanding in any way. It just… is.

Even he knows that this assumption is ridiculous, but somehow he’s sure his father did this on purpose.

He double checks the apartment number Jin texted him and walks over to the entrance. He’s just about to buzz the intercom, when the door suddenly opens. Out walks some lady, with a dog on a leash, and she sends him a scandalized look but doesn’t say anything when he comes in. From there, he uses the elevator to get to the fifth floor and begins his search for number thirty-four.

Once he eventually locates it, he’s met with a painfully bland brown door – because of course he is. Already annoyed – he hasn’t even come in, damn it! – he knocks with a little more force than necessary.

Almost instantly, as if Jin was just lingering in the foyer waiting for his arrival, the locks snap open and he’s welcomed by his friend’s grinning face.

“Dabi! You made it! Come in, come in, I have to show you everything!”

Not sure if he wants to be shown anything else, Dabi nevertheless follows the man inside, swiftly discarding his boots by the door and taking a moment to admire the absolute nothing that is the interior of Jin’s new flat. The walls are the plainest shade of beige there is, the floor is just some boring wood, there are exactly three framed pictures hanging in the entrance hall and all of them are stock photos of fruit, or sunsets, or other utterly dull stuff. Even the light seems wrong, like it’s too yellow or maybe too orange.

And it’s only the foyer.

“Your father is really generous,” Jin tells him, not noticing Dabi’s grimace in his excitement. “I have a bedroom and a sitting room! Both of them! Can you believe it? And the kitchen! There’s a kitchen, Dabi! Not a stove shoved next to the couch, a real kitchen, with all the appliances and stuff! Oh, and the bathroom! It actually has hot water in it, like all the time! And the TV is huge, come on, let me show you!”

Dabi lets himself be dragged to the sitting room to see the ‘huge TV’ that is probably only like thirty inches and can’t help but smile at the genuine awe Jin feels towards this place. It’s sobering, like a splash of cold water to the face. It doesn’t matter that the interior is ‘boring’ or not to Dabi’s tastes, it doesn’t matter whether Endeavor intended for it to be an affront. What matters is that this is still ten times better than whatever Jin had before. What matters is that it’s a house with a roof and not a cardboard box under some bridge.

Wouldn’t he have killed for a flat like this back when he was homeless and the only alternative to freezing were new burns on his already ruined body? When did he start caring about stock pictures?

“See?” Jin gestures proudly at the medium sized TV, his eyes alight with joy. “It has over a hundred channels too! And internet connection!”

“Sounds awesome,” he finds himself saying, genuinely, allowing all the remains of his irritation to disappear.

“It is! I’ve been binging things like crazy! Have you ever seen Riverdale? It’s this TV show about a small town called Riverdale and there’s this high school—”

“Yes, Jin, I know about Riverdale.” Although he would prefer it if he didn’t. In the future, the show was on its, what, forty-seventh season? He’s almost sure there was an episode with singing alien beavers once. “Oh, wait, I got something for you.”

“What?” Jin exclaims, wide-eyed, as Dabi dives into his backpack. “Dabi, you didn’t need to get me anything, you’ve already done enou—”

“I don’t want to hear any complaints,” Dabi cuts him off, quickly following it with a triumphant ‘ahaa!’ when he finally locates the gift. It’s probably a bit tacky, not really something you would normally get for a guy in his mid-twenties, but Dabi knows Jin and he’s 98% sure the man is going to love it. “Here, it’s for you. To make this place a little livelier.”  

Jin eyes the small succulent, in its cute tiny pink pot, with an expression of unabashed awe.

“You—you got it for me?” the man whispers, disbelieving, as though the notion that someone might do something nice for him is something entirely foreign.

“That’s what I said, didn’t I?” Dabi forcibly pushes the plant into Jin’s hands, to which the man has to scramble around not to let it fall to the ground. “And you better take good care of it. I’m going to be coming by often to check.”

Jin blinks at that, momentarily confused, before understanding fills his eyes and his lips stretch into the widest, sweetest grin. Dabi tactfully pretends not to notice the slight glistening to his eyes.

“I will,” Jin breathes. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.” Dabi makes a dismissive gesture, then dives back into his backpack, this time having no difficulty finding what he’s looking for. “I also bought us some beer. And not some cheap shit either. Honestly, for how much it cost, it better taste like fucking ambrosia.”

This time, Jin accepts the offered beer can without any hesitation, although he doesn’t look entirely comfortable.

“Are you sure you should be drinking?” When Dabi only raises an eyebrow, Jim elaborates, “I mean, you’re what, fifteen? And I’m an adult, so it’s my responsibility to make sure you don’t... you know, do anything harmful. I just, I don’t want to be a bad influence on you or something.”

Dabi needs to stifle a burst of laughter. “Believe me, there’s no way you could be a bad influence on me.”

However, Jin remains unconvinced. “Well, what about your father? What if he finds out about it and, and gets mad? He’s already suspicious because I’m so much older, if he finds out I let you drink alcohol he might take back his help...”

Dabi straightens himself, adopts a more serious expression, and points a finger at Jin’s chest.

“First of all, you don’t let me do anything. I brought my own beer and I could just as well drink it anywhere else. It’s got nothing to do with you.” Jin opens his mouth, likely to protest, so Dabi barges on, “Second of all, as I’ve already told you, my father’s opinion has no meaning and should be disregarded at all times. He has no say over my life and that includes both what I choose to drink and who I choose to spend my time with. Okay?”

Jin lets out a half-resigned sigh, his shoulders sagging. “Okay.”

Feeling a little bad, Dabi hastily opens his can, enjoying the characteristic hissing sound, and raises it up for a toast. “Come on, we’re here to celebrate your new life. Cheers?”

The corners of his lips lifting up again, Jin eventually nods at him, opens his own can and clinks it against Dabi’s. “Cheers.”        

Grinning, Dabi drops on the couch and doesn’t even comment about how the pattern on it is utterly hideous. He leans against the armrest, kind of half-lying instead of sitting, with his feet propped on the small coffee table. Jin reluctantly follows his example, although his way of sitting is much less chaotic, or – as Dabi likes to call it – more boring. At least now, they both seem to be relaxing.  

Dabi shoots his friend a glance, sipping slowly on his overpriced beer – which, of course, tastes like shit. “So, I take it everything is fine?”

“Oh, yes, everything is great,” Jin assures him, resting his chin on his palm. “I’ve had three job interviews today and I think at least one of them might call back. And if not, I have another two scheduled for Monday. Some guy brought me a ton of groceries and the bills for this place are all paid for three months in advance. It’s like I’m living the dream! I don’t even know how to start thanking you.”

“Then don’t. I already told you – you’re my friend, you needed help, I helped you. End of story.” He drinks a bit more, this time unable to hide a grimace. Who would pay so much for something so disgusting? ‘Craft’ beer his ass. “Besides, It’s not like I did anything. It’s not even my money.”

Jin gives him a flat look. “We both know your father would never have done this if it wasn’t for you.”

“Yes, and tomorrow I have to go to his stupid work thing, so how about we stop talking about him and instead you help me forget about it for the next few hours?”

Jin brightens immediately. “Oh, I know what we can do!” He lunges for the remote that almost slips from his grasp at least three times. Then, he sends Dabi a sparkling look. “Have you ever seen Supernatural?”

***

“You keep checking your phone,” Jin notices around three episodes later, stuffing his mouth with cheese-flavoured popcorn. On the screen, there’s something incredibly homosexual going on. Dabi’s honestly amazed a show can be both so gay and so homophobic at the same time. It’s like a car crash – it hurts but you just can’t look away. “You can tell me if you’re bored. We can do something else.”

“No!” Dabi protests, maybe a little too quickly. What? Is he not allowed to enjoy some vintage vibes? “No, it’s not that.”

“What is it then? Waiting for someone to call?”

Sighing, Dabi throws the deadly quiet phone on the couch next to him, half-hoping it might fall to the floor and break, so he won’t have to endure its wilful silence anymore. “It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

But Jin is a good friend – a mostly good person is general – so of course he doesn’t just let it go. He pauses the show – coincidentally, on a hilarious frame of these two guys eye-fucking each other – and turns clumsily to properly face Dabi.

“Come on, Dabi, I can see something is troubling you. You can talk to me, if you want. I promise I won’t tell anyone, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Jin laughs in this heart-breaking self-deprecating way of his. “I mean, it’s not like I have anyone to tell anyway.”

Does that count as emotional manipulation? Making Dabi feel so bad for him that he ends up spilling all of his secrets? If so, then it’s a surprising devious plan. A devious plan that is, unfortunately, working. Resigned to his fate, Dabi puts the beer can back on the coffee table and sprawls his limbs all over the couch to appear as flippant as possible.

“It’s really nothing,” he insists, refusing to make eye contact and instead playing with a small flame between his fingers. “I’m just being stupid.”

Something in his tone must betray him, because Jin immediately perks up, eyes alight. “Is this about a girl?”

Dabi sends him a deadpan look. “I’m gay.”

Jin waves a hand. “A boy, then. It’s about a boy, isn’t it?” Left with no other choice, Dabi glares at him. “Oooh, you’re embarrassed! So it is about a boy!”

“Shut up,” he mumbles, trying very hard not to reach for the discarded phone and check for new messages like a pathetic disaster he’s apparently become. “It’s not like that.”

“Suuuure.”

“It’s not. There’s no romance, we’re just friends.” Because the adult version of him I’m in love with is stuck in the future that might not even exist anymore, he doesn’t add. “But he wasn’t at school today and now he’s not answering my texts, and I know he probably just felt sick and his phone died or something, but...”

“But you’re still worried,” Jin concludes, a look of total understanding on his face. “You think something might have happened to him.”

Dabi averts his gaze. “It’s silly.”

Jin shrugs. “It’s not. It just shows that you care about him.”

“Yeah, well, he clearly doesn’t if he can’t even be bothered to send one fucking text.”

To that, Jin has no wise answer, so the topic dies and they resume watching the show. Some gore happens and Dabi notes with a lot of amusement that his friend is watching the bloodiest parts through his fingers and flinching violently at every jump scare. At some point, Jin throws some popcorn at him – presumably so he can catch it with his mouth – but forgets to warn him about it, so the buttery pieces hit him on the face and fall sadly into his lap. He eats them anyway, cringing inwardly at the greasy stains they leave on his clothes. The episode reaches its end just as he reaches the bottom of his beer can and through all of that, his phone remains hauntingly silent.

***

By the time he finally leaves Jin’s apartment, it’s already after 2AM. His head is a little dizzy and his legs seem to have some difficulty moving in a straight line – turns out, teenage body and a few beers don’t mix all that well, who would have thought – but he doesn’t regret any of his choices that evening. Time spent with Jin was enjoyable, as pissed off as that damn show has left him, and the mix of pleasant company and slight intoxication provided an excellent distraction from both his stressing about the test results and panicking about Keigo’s suspicious silence. He definitely should hang out with Jin more – even if it’s still a bit strange to not have him contradict himself every other sentence.

The walk to the train station is not a long one, but the serenity of the night makes it seem so. The neighbourhood, consisting primarily of tenements, blocks of flats, and minor office spaces, does not make for a very interesting night spot. In fact, it’s almost completely quiet – maybe even too quiet – a total opposite of the area he usually frequents during his nightly exploits, with its neon lights, shady bars bursting with even shadier clients, and a lot of screams from the shadowed alleys. Here, most residents seem to already be inside, sleeping soundly, with only an occasional partygoer or two on their way home disturbing the overall peace. It’s not the sort of place one would expect to meet trouble.

Maybe that’s why he doesn’t recognize him at first.

There’s a man strolling lazily on the other side of the street, his head bobbing to the rhythm of whatever music he has blasting through his earphones. In the dark, it’s hard to distinguish any particular features, but he’s taller than average and quite muscly under the crumpled clothes. He’s slouching slightly, with hands deep in the pockets of his low-hanging baggy jeans. His entire persona screams thug. Or a sad middle-aged man attempting to badly impersonate a teenager.

Dabi couldn’t care less about some weird guy. The only reason he even notices him is because they’re the only two people out there right now, and he loses interest almost instantly, too worn-out and agitated to give a shit. Every other minute a yawn forces its way out of his mouth. He can’t wait to throw himself onto his bed and let the sweet darkness take him. They really should have stopped after four episodes, he moans to himself. How can he properly annoy Endeavor tomorrow if he’s going to be dead on his feet?

It’s almost time to take a turn and leave the weird guy behind. If he walked a little bit faster, if he left Jin’s house a little bit earlier, he wouldn’t have seen it.

But he didn’t.

And he does see it.

A shadow, something inhuman in its shape, suddenly appears in front of the weird man. Or maybe it was there all along and they just weren’t looking close enough. It walks in the opposite direction to the man and, for a moment, it seems like it will simply pass him without pausing. But instead, the man takes a subtle step to his right and causes the shadow to collide with him, then fall to the ground with a grunt.

Letting out a long-suffering sigh, Dabi halts his steps to watch the confrontation unfold. He’s not working tonight, but his brain won’t let him just walk away from a possible assault case. Even if the victim seems to be some sort of deformed monstrosity.

“Watch where you’re walking!” the man snaps, loud enough for his voice to echo dully through the eery silence. He spits at the creature at his feet. “Useless brat.”

The shadow, which turns out to be a young boy, slowly wipes the saliva of his… face? The freaky shape in the place his face should be, more like. He doesn’t say anything, or at least nothing Dabi can hear from the distance, and carefully starts pushing himself up. 

“Cat got your tongue, eh?! Apologize! You hear me?! Haven’t your mama taught you any manners?”

The boy straightens up, brushing the dirt off his clothes. He’s short, at least half the size of the men harassing him and at least a head shorter than Dabi. He’s way too young to be out at this hour, Dabi finds himself thinking, moments before the boy’s head turns, just enough for the weak moonlight to illuminate a half of it.

The freaky shape in the place of the boy’s face turns out to be a severed human hand.

Dabi freezes, his breath cut short in the middle of an inhale. His heart comes to an abrupt stop as realization hits him like a bag of bricks. A hand. A fucking hand. Stuck to a young boy’s face. A boy young enough to be Natsuo’s age.

Shigaraki.

“Filth,” the boy hisses, his voice way too rough to belong to a child. Dabi knows what’s going to happen even before Shigaraki extends his hand.

The man shouts something, a yell of offence that turns into an agonal scream as Shigaraki’s fingers clutch around his wrist and his body begins to disintegrate. It lasts less than thirty seconds for the entirety of that guy to be turned into a pile of dust, the only proof of his existence being the faint echo of his dying cries and two lone earbuds falling harshly to the ground, still playing their awful music.

Shigaraki stares down at the remains of the person he just murdered and shrugs to himself. He hasn’t noticed Dabi’s presence yet. And he definitely shouldn’t be allowed to. Logically, Dabi should run – in fact, he should have fled the moment he realized who he’s looking at. And yet, his legs refuse to move, his eyes fixated on the tragedy of a child that was let down by every person who should have helped him and moulded into something he never wanted to be. How can he leave when here’s his chance, an impossible chance, maybe the only chance, to get his (reluctant) best friend away from the man who twisted him into something inhuman while the damage can still be reversed?

He must make some sort of noise or maybe Shigaraki’s instincts kick back in, because his head snaps into Dabi’s direction and his body visibly stills. Dabi gulps, unsure what to do. Even though he can’t see them, he can feel those creepy red eyes drilling into him with abnormal intensity. The hairs on the back of his neck stand up under the attention. It’s not hard to recognize the aura Shigaraki has around him. Dabi would have recognised murderous intent as strong as this everywhere.

The boy takes a step forward and then another, and another, and before Dabi can get himself back together, Shigaraki is already half-way to him. He grits his teeth, his heart pounding wildly as he attempts to figure out a way out of this that doesn’t include one of them dying.  

(You see, Dabi is not scared of Shigaraki. Yes, his quirk is powerful and incredibly destructive, but so is Dabi’s. His flames would easily reach Shigaraki before the other could touch him. Were the fight to break out between them, he’s fairly sure he would be the one walking away victorious. This Shigaraki doesn’t yet have the control over his quirk that would make him a real threat – as he is now, he would not pose a particular challenge.

All For One, on the other hand, could probably kill him within a second. And, as he knows all too well, where Shigaraki goes, his Master is not far behind.)

“You saw,” Shigaraki croaks, whatever expression he might be making obscured by the gross hand.

“What?” Dabi asks innocently, wincing at the way his voice crashes against the silence. “I didn’t see anything.”

Now that Shigaraki is closer, Dabi wonders how he could ever mistake him for someone else. There are multiple severed hands clutching onto his body – again, gross – and his skin is clammy, yellowish in the artificial light of the streetlamp above them, with red scratch marks all over his neck and arms. His hair is shorter than Dabi’s used to, but just as messy, with a few dust particles sprinkled over it. He’s even wearing the red shoes that Dabi used to make fun of him for, especially after finding out All Might’s new protégé was wearing exactly the same ones.

(It should, for all intents and purposes, be a revolting sight. Objectively, Shigaraki is quite an ugly kid – sickly, filthy, and unkept – even without adding all the rotting limbs of his loved ones to the equation. His picture could be put as the definition of the word disgusting in a dictionary.

It doesn’t make Dabi want to hug him any less.)

(He doesn’t, because Shigaraki would undoubtedly murder him for it. But it’s a nice sentiment nonetheless.)

He can’t see it, but he can easily imagine the way Shigaraki squints at him. “You’re lying.”

“Yeah, guess I am.” There’s no point in pretending when they both know the truth. Time for a different strategy. Shiggy was always easy to manipulate; baby Shiggy should be even easier. “You’re right, I did see. Thanks, by the way. I was gonna kill that guy myself, but then you came and did all the work for me.”

Shigaraki’s head tilts slightly sideways. “You did?”

He sounds doubtful.

“Mmm-hmm.” Dabi nods, summoning one of his ugliest smiles. “He tried to rob me yesterday. I spent the whole evening tracking him down. I was looking forward to it too.” He sighs dramatically, overexaggerating his alleged disappointment. Then he waves a dismissive hand. “But, well, first come first served. No hard feelings, man. It seemed like it hurt pretty fucking badly, so I kind of got my revenge anyway.”

Shigaraki is clearly confused – which is exactly what Dabi hopes for – but he also doesn’t seem very eager to leave. And Dabi’s skin itches to get out of there asap. The last thing he needs is to be taken in by AFO too. Or straight up murdered.

“Aren’t you scared of me?” Shigaraki asks finally, sounding both irritated and bewildered by that fact. Which is fair, Dabi supposes. Most people would definitely be terrified of a kid who can erase you from existence with a single touch.

But most people didn’t have to share a house with said kid for months. Dodging Shiggy’s attempts at dusting them basically served as one of the League’s many fucked-up pastimes.

“Should I be?” Dabi counters, raising an eyebrow. “You killed that guy because he was a dick to you, right? Well, I didn’t do anything to you, did I? So you have no reason to hurt me.”

“You saw,” the boy repeats, but this time he doesn’t sound so sure of himself.

“Obviously, I’m not going to tell anyone.” He rolls his eyes to highlight just how obvious the notion is. “I was going to kill him too, remember?”

“I guess,” Shigaraki says, lightly scratching his neck. The sound is still as gross as ever but somehow so pleasantly familiar. “But how do I know you’re telling the truth? You don’t... look very murderous.”

The creepy hand is still obscuring baby Shiggy’s face, but it’s pretty clear he’s judgingly eyeing Dabi’s outfit. Dabi graciously chooses to take that as a compliment.

“Well, yeah, that’s the point.” He shrugs, continuing to act unbothered, all while hoping that the darkness will hide his sweating. “If people underestimate you, it’s easier to take them by surprise.”

It’s not even a lie. He’s used this exact strategy many times before. There’s nothing more satisfying than the look on some asshole’s face when who he thought would be an easy prey suddenly becomes the predator.

It’s not what he was doing this time in particular, sure, but the best lies are always rooted in truth, right?

Shigaraki hums in consideration. “That would be a good plan,” he admits after a moment. “And how were you going to kill him? With your quirk?”

A more genuine grin blooms on Dabi’s face.

“This little thing?” He ignites his palm, then lets the blue flames spread all over his arm and up into sort of a spiral pattern. The cold hue of the fire clashes with the orange light of the streetlamp. Shigaraki watches in quiet amazement – at least that’s what Dabi likes to think – and is visibly startled when Dabi extinguishes all of it without a warning. “Nah.” He grins wider. “Too recognizable. I would rather just use a knife.”

Something in this smile must have been more convincing – sharper, maybe, like that knife he doesn’t have – because Shigaraki loses most of his suspiciousness.  

“It’s a good quirk you have there,” he comments, sounding genuinely appreciative. “It’s a bit too much like Endeavor’s, but... I guess you would make a decent party member.”

Abort, abort, abort. That’s not the direction this is meant to be going in. Shiggy is supposed to believe Dabi’s not a threat and therefore doesn’t need to be silenced because of what he’s witnessed, not decide to recruit him into his crazy villain lifestyle! No way. No matter how much Dabi grew to care about the crusty boy in front of him, he is not letting himself be kidnapped into the League ten years before it’s even created.

(He kindly ignores the Endeavor comparison. If only because taking offence to that might seem a bit suspicious.)

“Um, thanks, but I’m afraid my boyfriend would be quite upset if I just disappeared like that,” he feigns a chuckle, suppressing a wince at how close to home that statement is. He would have used his parents instead but he’s a little apprehensive about mentioning family around this Shiggy. “Actually, I should probably get going. He’s going to get worried if I don’t come back soon.”   

“That’s a shame,” the boy says, scratching at his neck again. He seems to be thinking something over for a moment before letting out a small huff. “Fine, you can go. But do it fast, before Master sees you.”

Dabi doesn’t need to be told twice. On instinct, he flashes Shigaraki a slightly manic grin, sends him a mock salute and runs off as quickly as his legs can carry him. The grin slips off his face the moment he disappears behind a corner.

It feels a little like betrayal to leave Shigaraki behind; like cowardice and selfishness. He doesn’t usually mind being selfish, but this time is different. This time, putting his own safety first leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. And so, even as he runs, Dabi promises himself he will get Shigaraki away from that man – even if he has to suck All Might’s mighty dick to do it.

He feels eyes on him all the way back home, but he tells himself it’s just his imagination. After all, your own brain is often a much worse enemy than any real person could ever hope to be. And if the shadows around him seem to move from time to time, well, he hasn’t slept in a while. The darkness will trick your eyes like that. 

***

Sleep eludes him for a long time that night, even after he crawls into his bed and covers himself with his favourite red blanket. His eyelids are heavy, ridiculously so, but so is his heart. The thoughts of Shigaraki keep him awake for hours as he contemplates just how close to dying he came in that moment. Or how close he came to rescuing his friend. If only he wasn’t such a coward.

He must fall asleep at some point, because the next thing he knows, he’s being violently woken up by a way-too-chipper Fuyumi, who tells him that they’re having family breakfast, mum’s orders, and that he’s expected in the dining room asap. His eyes refuse to stay open for more than ten seconds, but he drags himself downstair anyway. There’s no point in trying to argue with Rei. She would just send him this unimpressed look of hers and say that if he wanted to get more sleep, he shouldn’t have stayed up so late. And she would be right.

He arrives at the dining room still in his pyjamas, rubbing at his eyes, with his greeting being interrupted by a yawn. Everyone seems decently amused by his pitiful state, everyone except Endeavor, of course, who berates him for not being rested on ‘such an important day’. Dabi doesn’t remember it being his birthday though, so the man must just be confused.

They begin eating in relative peace – peace that would not last for much longer.

It’s almost nine in the morning when they’re all startled by a frantic knocking on their front door. Rei looks up from her eggs with a curious expression while Fuyumi frowns – Dabi can’t really blame her, it is Saturday morning after all – but none of them move to answer. Natsuo and Shouto are too busy fighting over the last piece of cake to even notice and Dabi isn’t really a door person, so, in the end, it is Endeavor who sighs with irritation and stands up to receive their unexpected visitor. Dabi pities the poor soul who’s going to deal with Enji before his morning coffee – believe it or not, the man is even worse than usual without it – but honestly, it’s their own fault for coming here so early.

The few seconds between Endeavor’s departure from the dining room and the familiar sound of the door opening Dabi spends chewing on some noodles and trying not to look like he’s listening. Judging by his mother’s amused expression, he’s not succeeding. But hey, he’s a nosy bastard, okay? Sue him.

He can’t really mask the surprise that surely shows on his face once he hears the unmistakable voice of Keigo. A very clearly panicking Keigo.

“Endeavor!” the boy screeches, trying to sound calm but failing spectacularly. Especially when this is followed by a nervous chuckle and more babbling. “How nice to see you! It’s been so long, haha! I mean, I think it has, I don’t know! Ha, hey, isn’t that funny? That I don’t know? Because I think it’s super funny. Hilarious even. See how I’m laughing?”

By the time the boy is interrupted by a very unamused Endeavor, Dabi is already there, having jumped out of his seat the moment he realized who their unexpected visitor is. His hasty exit is followed by some unsubtle giggling and wiggled eyebrows from the rest of his family he wisely chooses to ignore.

“Takami,” Endeavor starts harshly, which makes Keigo flinch and panic even more. As though he’s not expecting Enji to be a dick for some weird reason. “What are you doing here?”

“What, can I not visit my favourite hero? Haha! I’m joking, just joking. You really should smile more, you know? It would do wonders for your popularity. Crack a joke or two at some civilians and boom, suddenly you’re Number Two, am I right?”

Both Dabi’s and Endeavor’s frowns deepen with every word leaving the birdbrain’s mouth but it’s for widely different reasons. Enji is probably confused by the complete bullshit the boy is spewing or incredibly annoyed at having his breakfast interrupted for that, or, most likely, both. Dabi, on the other hand, is beginning to realize what must have happened – it would explain his absence at school yesterday, the unanswered phone calls, the sliver of insanity in his voice – even as the more sceptical part of his brain screams at him not to get his hopes up lest he ends up crushed on the ground when it inevitably ends in disappointment.

“Look, Touya is busy today so you should probably go home,” Endeavor goes on, unaware of the weight of the situation and eager to go back to his eggs. “Maybe sleep a little more.”

“Who’s Touya…?” The boy’s eyebrows crease adorably for a second, but then he shakes his head. “Nevermind, that’s not why I’m here. I need your help! Something happened to me! Something weird, like you’re not going to believe it, I barely believe it, but now I’m here and I need to find someone but I don’t know where to even start—”

That’s when Dabi can’t stay quiet anymore.

“Hawks?”

Chapter Text

TO: hot stuff 🔥🔥

heeya u coming over today??

i ordered pizza 🍕🍕

no pineapple on it, promise

[unread]

TO: hot stuff 🔥🔥

come on babe are you still mad at me for that joke?? :cc

u know i didn’t mean it

[unread]

TO: hot stuff 🔥🔥

daaaabi don’t ignore me :ccc

[unread]

TO: hot stuff 🔥🔥

someone asked me out today 😈😈

they were pretty too

r u jealous??

jk jk not as pretty as u of course 💖💖

i said no by the way

cause i luv u <3

but u better answer me soon asshole

[unread]

TO: hot stuff 🔥🔥

dabi?

this isn’t funny

[unread]

TO: hot stuff 🔥🔥

dabi are u okay??

plz answer me

[unread]

Hawks curses softly, frowning down at his phone. He’s trying to stay calm as it maintains its ominous silence, but he can’t quite get rid of this awful feeling crawling down his spine. Something’s wrong, he’s sure – the kind of wrong, his gut is telling him, that more often than not ends in heartbreak and tears.

Granted, it isn’t exactly uncommon for his boyfriend to go missing for a few days. There are still parts of his villain life that he prefers to keep Hawks away from and Hawks can’t exactly blame him for that. Even so, usually he would at least answer one of his texts to let him know he was fine. This, however – over a week of radio silence, not even a single busy, fuck off or suck my dick – has left Hawks with a really unpleasant kind of anxiety. As if he hasn’t already had enough of that.

Being the beloved Number Two Hero and the Commission’s darling little spy, he’s fairly confident he would have been notified if Dabi somehow got himself captured, so at least he can rule that one out. Dabi’s too smart to get caught anyway – he hopes. But, while ridiculously powerful, his boyfriend is still only human. A human with a large number of enemies, too, heroes and fellow villains alike. He could have been attacked. He could have been injured, kidnapped, or worse. Just now, he might be lying in a ditch somewhere, barely conscious, bleeding out, in desperate need of help, and Hawks would have no idea. It’s been, quite frankly, driving him insane.

Now, they do have an agreement about not snooping into each other’s professional lives – a promise Hawks had to agree to if he didn’t want to end up a fried chicken and single after his status as a spy was exposed – so if Dabi is simply on a mission for the League that requires him to cut contact with everyone for a while, Hawks doesn’t want to anger him by ruining it with his irrational worry. He knows Dabi is capable of taking care of himself and that he wouldn’t go down easily.

But Hawks is also reasonably certain, were Dabi to go on such a mission, he would have notified him beforehand.

And so, after another one of his increasingly desperate messages remains unanswered, he decides it’s time to act. Maybe there’s nothing to be concerned about, maybe Dabi just lost his phone or got angry about something and is now giving Hawks the silent treatment, but if there’s even the smallest chance that his boyfriend is in fact stuck somewhere, hurt, and scared, and possibly dying, Hawks would never forgive himself for not looking for him.

Having come to a decision, he pockets his phone, snubs the half-finished cigarette on the railing of his balcony – a bad habit he’s going to blame entirely on Dabi’s wicked influence – and spreads his wings wide, jumping off into the night. There’s only one logical place to start his search mission.

He hopes he doesn’t get murdered before he can even ask a question.   

***

The League’s base is, as always, loud.

He has learned his lesson from his previous visits – he’s lucky Toga’s knife missed his eye on purpose or he might have had to rebrand into a pirate – and so he politely knocks on the door, which, admittedly, makes him feel a bit ridiculous. Who would have thought that he, a supposed hero, would ever respectfully ask to be let into the villains’ lair instead of storming in, guns blazing.

(His younger self would be horrified at who he has become, he’s sure. He likes to see it as a good thing. After all, he was a pretty naïve child, despite everything.)

The yelling from the inside stops for a moment after his knock but quickly turns into frantic whispering – if you can even call it whispering, considering it’s audible on the other side of the wall. Against himself, Hawks can feel a small grin growing on his face as he shakes his head in exasperation. It really is a miracle nobody has found them by now with how unsubtle they can be. Villains or not, they’re more like an unruly group of children than anything else.

(That is, of course, if you ignore all the terrorism and murder. But Hawks is digressing.)

Hawks is just starting to tap his foot, fingers drumming against his thigh, when finally the metal door opens abruptly, revealing an unusually serious Toga. She’s still wearing her usual high school uniform but her trademark buns are gone as well as the usual blush decorating her cheeks. There isn’t even a smile on her face, at first, just a look of snappy irritation. However, once she realizes who’s standing outside, her lips twist into a sharp grin.

“Hawksie!” she exclaims, shrill enough to make him wince, and before he can answer, she’s already grabbing his shirt and pulling him inside, letting the door slam behind them with a menacing bang. He could have easily escaped her clutches, but he’s kind of used to her antics by now and knows she enjoys manhandling him like a big doll, so he lets her without much resistance.

What he isn’t used to is being thrown against the wall with a knife pressed tightly against his throat.

“Whoa, is that how you greet a guest?” he yelps, shocked but trying not to panic just yet. He raises his hands in a gesture that’s supposed to be calming, but the movement only makes her push the knife firmer into his skin.

“Shut up,” Shigaraki snaps, appearing from behind Toga like some kind of horror movie character. He approaches them slowly, palms up, fingers splayed in obvious threat. He’s watching Hawks with narrowed eyes, full of suspicion, unease, and… hatred? “Traitors don’t get guest treatment.”

What...? But haven’t they already resolved all of that...? Hawks is aware the League’s trust in him hasn’t been the strongest ever since his role as a spy has come to light, but they haven’t been this outright hostile for a while now. He’s been under impression they’ve more or less forgiven him, especially after all the colourful slash traumatizing shovel talks he’s gotten when Dabi didn’t break up with him over this little mishap.

So what’s up with the attempted murder now?  

Toga, who’s smile is completely devoid of her usual friendliness, yanks on his hair to get his attention back to herself and pushes the knife deeper. “Where’s Dabi?! What have you done to him?!”

Oh.

Oh.

Okay. Now he gets it. He wishes he didn’t though.

For a short moment, he allows panic to grip his heart, lets it turn the blood in his veins into ice and open a dark pit in his stomach. Because if the League, the closest thing his boyfriend has to a family, doesn’t know where he is either then that means he truly is missing. He’s not on any secret mission. He’s not just being a nuisance by not replying to Hawks’ messages. He’s actually gone.

No wonder they’re all so angry at him then, he thinks almost hysterically. In their place, he would suspect himself too.

Shit, it means Dabi really may be in trouble. If only he came here earlier, maybe… But no, there’s no time for what-ifs and there’s no time for panic. He needs to convince the League he’s innocent as soon as possible so they can work together to try and figure out how to find their wayward arsonist.

He takes a deep breath, careful not to move too much, and sends them a half-hearted smile. “Can we please calm down a little? I’m sure Dabi wouldn’t want us to fight each other...”

“Don’t fucking say his name, traitor,” Shigaraki growls, now close enough that he could easily touch Hawks’ wings if he wanted. Hawks resist an urge to gulp nervously. “Tell us where he is and we might give you a quick death.”

“See, as tempting as that offer is,” Hawks says, his voice slightly thin, but still outwardly cheerful, “I can’t tell you where he is because I don’t know that.”

“Liar!” Toga hisses, her blade finally breaking the skin. A warm trickle of blood runs down his neck, accompanied by a mild stinging pain, and Hawks has to fight an urge to attack them, aware that it wouldn’t help his situation at all. “He hasn’t been here in forever, and you’re the last one to see him, and you’re a filthy little hero, so you must have done something to him!”

“I swear I didn’t! I wouldn’t, I would never hurt him, you know that,” he pleads, attempting to convey his sincerity with his eyes. Come on, Toga! Aren’t you always yelling about being our biggest shipper? Where’s that energy now? “I came here to ask you if you know where he is!”

He holds his breath while they all go silent, thinking. It’s very unnerving, having all of their suspicious stares aimed at him, but he tries to make himself appear as unthreatening as possible. Which is kind of hard when all of his instincts are screaming at him to get out of there, or better yet, protect himself, send his feathers to slit their throats, see how they like it.

(Hawks isn’t sure if it’s his inner bird of prey impulses getting more intense with age or if it’s all Dabi’s influence, but he finds himself entertaining violent thoughts like that more and more often these days. He’s probably not as bothered by that fact as he should be.)

“Maybe he’s not lying. We should hear him out,” Twice, his saviour, his bestie, his brother from another mother, suggests hesitantly from where he’s hovering a few meters away, along with the rest of the League. Of course, he ruins it all with his second suggestion, “He’s obviously lying! We should just kill him!”

“I also think we should give him a chance to explain himself.” Mr. Compress nods, his voice perfectly polite, but even his mask can’t quite hide the threatening glint that must be in his eyes.

“Ugh. Fine,” Shigaraki huffs, his blood-red eyes still drilling holes in Hawks’ poor body. “I guess we can hear him out. But try anything and I won’t hesitate to turn you into dust, am I clear?”

Hawks nods frantically. “Yup. Crystal clear! Yes, sir!”

“Toga.”

The leader gestures for her to step aside and, reluctantly, the girl withdraws her knife, never losing that expression that just screams she wants nothing more than to cut him open and see inside. Then again, she looks like that at most people. It’s just more unnerving now that she might actually go through with it.

When he doesn’t instantly start talking, instead taking a moment to rub at his abused throat and wince from the resulting pain, Shigaraki crosses his arms over his chest and raises an eyebrow.

“Well? You’re saying you don’t know where he is either?”

“That’s right! I haven’t heard from him since last week,” he explains, frowning as he remembers all the unread messages. “I’ve been texting him a lot but he’s never answered, so obviously I got worried. I thought maybe he was on a mission or something, so I came here to ask you. But I’m guessing, with the warm welcome and all, that that’s not the case.”

Spinner, who’s been silent so far, leans forward to meet Hawks’ eyes and asks, “How do we know you’re telling the truth? How do we know you didn’t betray him after all? We all know what heroes are like. You’ve already lied to us once. How do you expect us to trust you?”

“I mean, first of all, why would I do that? Even if we forget he’s my boyfriend, selling him out to the heroes would literally gain me nothing except your guys’ wrath. If I was still playing for their side – and I’m not, just so we’re clear – it would make much more sense to continue gathering information until I could get all of you, not just him. Besides, you would have definitely heard about it if he got arrested.” Hawks shrugs, attempting to meet everyone’s eyes for at least a moment so they can see his sincerity. “He’s a big deal, there’s no way the news wouldn’t flaunt it around if someone managed to capture the second-in-command of the notorious League of Villains. Especially if that someone was me. You remember how it was with Kurogiri.”

“That’s no proof,” Shigaraki dismisses immediately, his eyes narrowing even more at the mention of his mentor. Maybe Hawks should have kept his mouth shut about it. There’s no reason to anger them even more. “They could be purposefully hiding it for now exactly so that they don’t blow your cover. Or to keep us from coming for him.”

Frustrated - that they don’t want to believe him, yes, but also that they’re right in their reasoning for it – Hawks groans, turning to his last-resort weapon.

Puppy eyes.

“Cooome on, you know how much I care about him! I wouldn’t do that! Something must have happened to him during a mission or… or whatever he’s doing for you and instead of looking for him, you’re wasting time interrogating me? Do you really think I would just casually come here like that if I had anything to do with his disappearance?”

“With your bird brain, I wouldn’t be surprised,” Shigaraki scoffs, and the way that familiar insult is uttered in such a different tone, without any of the usual begrudging affection, strikes him more painfully than any knife ever could.

Still, his words must carry some weight – or maybe it’s the eyes, who knows – because despite the suspicion never leaving any of their faces, he can feel them relax a bit. It’s not a complete win, sure, but he will take what he can get.

“I swear it wasn’t me! What do you want me to do to prove it? I will do anything! I can show you our conversation. I’ve been blowing up his phone for days. I can even show you my conversations with everyone else, you will see there’s no mention of Dabi anywhere.” Of course, there wouldn’t be anything to find even if he did sell Dabi out – he’s not that stupid – but they don’t have to know that. “I promise you I didn’t do anything to him. But someone else might have and he might be hurt, he might need help, and we’re wasting time here instead of doing something about it!”

He’s slightly out of breath by the end of his speech, which is a little embarrassing, but the panic he’s been so far pushing down as much as he’s been able to is starting to surface, his body itching to act, to stop being useless, to do what he’s been made to do – save people. He doesn’t even want to imagine what he would do if it turned out he’s already too late, that he’s failed the only person who’s ever got to know him wholly and didn’t leave, that Dabi is already...

He can’t even bring himself to finish that thought. He has to believe it’s not true or he might do something he won’t be able to come back from.

The League is silent for a long while after he’s done, all of them exchanging wary looks, all with calculating expressions – except for Twice, who’s smiling at him already, clearly not needing any more convincing. Usually, Hawks would disapprove of the man’s limitless reserves of trust, bordering dangerously on naivety, but this time he welcomes it gratefully.    

“Fine, let’s say we believe you,” Mr. Compress says eventually, straightening himself into a position that screams business. “What do we do now? What’s the plan? If he’s been hurt, we need to find him.”

Everyone else nods their agreement, more serious and determined than Hawks has ever seen them before. Especially Toga and Shigaraki seem to be vibrating with the same kind of frustrating restlessness that’s been coursing through his own body. Toga is caressing her blade almost unconsciously, a dangerous glint to her cat-like eyes, while Shigaraki’s face is twisted into a vicious frown, his fingers clenching and unclenching around empty air. Both of them are oozing what Hawks likes to call protective bloodlust.

(None of them even entertain the thought that Dabi could be more than just hurt by now either.)

“Where was the last time you’ve heard from him?” Hawks asks, switching to his hero mode, in hopes that treating this like any other missing person case might make it easier to separate himself from his increasingly unstable emotions.

(Taking all the hard, ugly, painful feelings and putting them into a small box at the bottom of his mind where he can lock them forever and never need to revisit them again has been working well enough as a coping mechanism for his entire life. There’s no reason it should stop working now.)

Turns out, the League hasn’t heard from Dabi for more or less the same amount of time as him. Which isn’t good – a lot of bad things can happen to a person in a week. Hawks elects to apply his foolproof strategy to this as well and decides not to think about it too much because otherwise he would probably have a nasty nervous breakdown and nobody wants that.

They tell him that after Hawks’ last meeting with Dabi his boyfriend came back as he normally would, muttering something about stupid birdbrains and their stupid unfunny jokes – which Hawks takes immediate offence to, since all his jokes are hilarious – and then went straight to his bedroom, only to emerge a few minutes later and announce he was going to see some possible recruits. Nobody questioned him – it was common knowledge his ‘recruiting’ almost always meant that Dabi was just looking for an excuse to release some pent up energy through fighting people. Especially since he never actually brought back any recruits.  

But then the next morning arrived and Dabi still wasn’t back. And then the next one. And the next one. And the next... well, you get the idea.

“And you didn’t think to do anything about it why?” Hawks tries to keep frustration out of his voice, but it’s a hard task when now he knows he could have been searching for his boyfriend for days already – if only his friends bothered to contact him about it.

“Well…” Toga starts, not meeting his eyes, before she’s interrupted by Spinner.

“Obviously, we thought he was with you,” he says, his arms folded over his chest defensively. “At least at first.”

Twice nods. “Yeah, he’s done that before! Not coming back for a few night, because he’s been spending them with you doing, you know, fun stuff.” Despite the mask, Hawks can feel Twice wiggling his eyebrows suggestively as he says that. And then, without a warning, it turns into a grimace. “Ugh, you two are always so disgusting. I don’t even want to know what you were doing!”

“And especially since it seemed you guys had a fight we thought you were having some steamy make-up sex,” Toga adds, with a disturbing lack of any embarrassment for someone her age. “Dabi would have killed us if we disturbed you during that.”  

“What these dumbasses mean,” Shigaraki says, sounding impatient, “is that we didn’t think it was weird at first. Dabi doesn’t always come home after he’s done with the job. But then he wasn’t answering any of his phones and he hasn’t been spotted anywhere by anyone for long enough that we started to suspect something was wrong.”

“And that’s when you come in,” Mr. Compress informs him. “In fact, we were just discussing paying you a visit. We were hoping you could provide us with an explanation… after a proper encouragement, of course. Luckily for us, you got here first.”

“Oh yes, lucky me,” Hawks mutters, wiping the remains of blood from his neck.

“Sorry about that, Hawksie,” Toga say, not sounding very sorry at all. She does look a little bashful though. “But if you did hurt Dabi, you would have totally deserved that, so.” She shrugs.

Not knowing what to respond, he simply doesn’t. Instead, he focuses on the more important thing – information.

“Do you know who he was meeting with? Or where?”

They don’t. Of course they don’t. Apparently Dabi doesn’t tell them shit if it’s not absolutely necessary. In some way, it’s strangely reassuring – Hawks has always thought it was only him Dabi’s been keeping secrets from.

Not that it matters now. Hawks would have very much preferred to learn Dabi’s been an open book with his friends if it meant they would be able to find him easier.

“Alright,” he says to them, acting calm despite the way his stomach is twisting into progressively tighter knots. “I’m going to ask around, maybe someone knows something. I have access to classified info, so I might find some clues. And you should keep looking too, you have a much bigger chance to hear about underground stuff than I do. You have my number, right? Just call me if there’s any news.”

They promise to keep him updated, but he doesn’t put a lot of hope into their investigative skills. He’s the one who’s job literally includes locating missing people. If anyone’s going to find Dabi alive, it’s going to be him.

(It has to.)

***

Finding anything about Dabi, turns out, is close to impossible. In any other circumstances that would be great news, but, right now, it only serves to drive Hawks just a little more insane. How can there be not even a single sign of him anywhere? Has he sunk into the ground or something? Discovered Agartha? There has to be some clue, some way to track him down, something Hawks is missing. People don’t just disappear into thin air! 

Not only that, but the Commission has been growing suspicious about his sudden desperate enthusiastic interest in the missing villain’s whereabouts. Knowing they would learn about it one way or another and that their involvement could actually help, Hawks did inform them about his League contact disappearing without a trace, but now that he thinks of it, he might have sounded a little too miserable about it not to raise some eyebrows.

Can you blame him though? Today marks two weeks since he’s last seen his boyfriend and, as much as he hates to admit it, every day without news means less chance of finding him alive. Or at all.

(He still doesn’t let himself dwell on it too much. He doesn’t focus on statistics he has branded into his brain – on how many missing people are actually found alive after the first forty-eight hours (not a lot), how many unidentified bodies pop up every year never to get their name back (too many), how many missing person cases actually get solved (not enough).)

(He doesn’t close his eyes very often these days. Every time he does, the box at the outskirts of his mind starts leaking. It shakes, trashes, demands to be freed. It projects images of Dabi’s cold mangled body rotting somewhere in a dark alley onto the backs of his eyelids.

Keeping his eyes open is not any less scary though. He’s constantly terrified that, one of these days, he might see the same image without needing to close them.)   

Just as he’s about to lose hope completely, however, the world throws him a bone. He finally, finally, gets some decent lead, albeit not without an absurd amount of digging. He doesn’t care though, not about the hours spent glued to his computer, not about the thousands of yen he’s going to have to put into physical therapy for his aching back and not about the definite alarm bells his behaviour must be ringing in his superiors at the Commission. All that matters is that he’s finally one step closer to finding Dabi.

Turns out, someone did see his boyfriend that night he was supposedly meeting the potential recruits. It was a rookie hero, one so unimportant that Hawks doesn’t even recognize the name. From the report he managed to put his hands on he finds out that this hero saw some signs of fighting – including blue flames – and rushed to the scene to intervene. There’s no reference to Dabi in the report other than that, in fact, his name is never mentioned at all, but Hawks has no doubts it must have been him.

Unfortunately, out of six people the hero describes to be there, only one got captured, some guy with a… bubble gum quirk? But, well, weird quirk or not, this might be the person who has last seen Dabi before his disappearance and so Hawks needs to talk to him. Preferably yesterday.

Thankfully, being the Number Two Hero has many perks, including the power to request a meeting with most criminals currently in state custody. His handlers might be having their doubts about his true allegiances, but the rest of the public is just as in love with him as always, so securing an appointment with the bubble gum villain goes almost too smoothly. He only has to give ‘classified reasons’ as an explanation, wink, send a few people some charming smiles and voilà, he’s invited to see the guy the very next day.

Ah, sometimes he really loves his privileges.  

Immediately after he arrives at the tiny low-security prison, a decently handsome officer is elected to escort him to the room where the guy is already waiting for him. The officer is friendly and he’s trying really hard to involve Hawks in some small talk, almost certainly being a fan, but Hawks is too focused on possibly getting information that’s going to bring him closer to finding Dabi to hear even half of his words.

“That’s him,” the man announces once they stop in front of one out of hundreds of metal doors lining the walls. “You’ve got twenty minutes. If anything happens, yell, I’m right outside.”

“Sure thing, officer!” He flashes him a smile as an apology for ignoring him earlier, gives a shallow bow, turns around and basically bursts into the room in his excitement. 

The criminal looks painfully average, save for his hot pink hair – so that’s the bubble gum part, huh? – he’s not even smiling devilishly or whatever your regular villain will do to make themselves look more intimidating. He’s clearly just some guy. Hawks isn’t sure what to think about him. This isn’t exactly who he imagined when thinking of all these League-hopefuls Dabi murders for fun.

“Can I help you?” the man asks, tilting his head in confusion. “Sorry, but I’m not sure what a hero of your calibre could possibly want from me.”

“The day you’ve been arrested, have you seen Dabi from the League of Villains?” Hawks isn’t in the mood to beat around the bush.

The criminal blinks. “You mean that guy who tried to burn us all alive?”

“Yes, him, exactly.” Hawks nods his head frantically, his heart threatening to jump out of his chest with the sudden rush of renewed hope. His smile must be bordering on creepy because the guy leans away from him with a disturbed expression. “What happened that night?”

Of course, it couldn’t be that easy.

“You’re out of your mind if you think I’m going to tell you anything,” the guy scoffs. “I’m not incriminating myself any more than I already did.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

“Look, you know who I am, right?” Slowly, the criminal nods, staring at Hawks like he’s not sure there’s anything in his brain at all. It only earns him another, only slightly less unhinged, grin from the Number Two Hero. “I promise, if you tell me what I want to know, I will make sure you get out of here with the lightest sentence possible. Maybe even no sentence at all, if your info is really good. You know I can do that. Help me out and I will gladly return the favour.”

Hawks knows he got the guy even when he narrows his eyes, staring at him suspiciously. “How do I know you’re not lying?”

Oh, Hawks is getting really tired of that particular question.             

He takes a step closer, towering over the man, and allows his face to twist into a dark, dangerous expression. “You don’t.” He grins threateningly, exposing his too sharp canines. “But if you don’t answer my questions, I will make sure you never see the light of day again. So better choose wisely.”

The man freezes, gaping at him with wide eyes. That’s certainly not what he was expecting the Number Two Hero to be like, that much is obvious. Hawks doesn’t give a shit. His career is basically over anyway at this point, good PR is literally the least important thing on his mind.

He lets his grin spread even wider as he leans over the table separating them. The man becomes even stiffer, the smell of his fear scratching something primal in Hawks’ brain. His lips are almost touching the criminal’s ear when he whispers his final words,

“You don’t want to make an enemy out of me.”

***

Predictably, Mr. Bubble Gum Criminal spills everything after that. He tells him how he and some other wannabe villains were supposed to meet the recruiter in one of the abandoned warehouses near the coast, how it was a heavily scarred man who appeared, wielding unusual blue flames in his hands, how the man didn’t even ask them one question before he attacked. How he would have killed all of them if not for one person who managed to hit him with a quirk that somehow made him disappear on the spot.

A quirk that made him disappear on the spot.

God, this is a disaster. The criminal claims not to know anything about that mysterious person nor what their quirk actually does. Hawks refuses to believe it’s anything lethal unless he has hard proof.

They say denial isn’t only a river in Egypt. But Hawks isn’t in denial, he is just a very optimistic person.

A very optimistic person who had to be escorted out of the prison for attempting to murder a prisoner when he couldn’t give him the information he needs. It seems that Dabi has been a very bad influence on him indeed. Before he met his boyfriend, Hawks would have never tried to kill someone so openly.

Anyway, the criminal wasn’t able to give him any identifying information about that quirk user other than he was somewhere in his thirties, had dark purple hair and a power to make people vanish after touching them. It’s not nearly enough to find a person but Hawks has never been a quitter.

It takes him a lot of begging and then a lot of hacking when begging didn’t work, but, eventually, he gains access to the national quirk registry, sets the sex to male and the age to from around twenty-six to forty, and spends most of the next three days looking for anyone who could fit that sparse description.

Finding anyone like that is way harder than he anticipates, but he’s not about to give up. There are roughly ten people that more or less fit the description and whose quirks could be described as ‘making people vanish’. None of them have any criminal records and there’s nothing about any of them that would stand out. Still, it’s all he has. It has to be enough.

Thankfully, all of them have their address listed. Of course, it doesn’t mean these addresses are in any way real, but it’s a starting point at least.

(For a second, he considers asking the League for help with checking on some of the leads to get it done faster, but he’s too afraid of what their ‘questioning’ would look like so, regretfully, he resorts to doing all the work himself.)

The three people he does manage to get a hold of over the next few days are clearly not the ones he’s looking for and it frustrates him to no end. Every day without news makes his skin crawl. The thought that he could never see Dabi again… It’s more terrifying than the prospect of having to face the Commission after all of this or worse, KFC closing down for good.

Unbelievably, the week after that comes with an unexpected amount of work, mostly double patrols and out-of-the-blue joint missions he can’t get out of without a solid excuse – and ‘searching for my villain boyfriend’s kidnapper’ probably does not qualify as one – as well as four unskippable TV appearances he hasn’t been told about until the last moment. All of that only further proves that the Commission is starting to get really suspicious about his true loyalties and while it would make him panic before, by now he is so single-mindedly focused on finding Dabi that he couldn’t give a flying fuck about them. What’s the point of keeping his cover of a good obedient pawn when the only person to truly make him feel something in years is gone?

Finally, finally, after way too many nights spent lying awake, imagining the worst case scenarios and forcefully not letting himself cry because crying would mean admitting there’s a chance he has something to cry about and he’s not yet at the point when he can do that, after all that, he has it narrowed down to one guy. He doesn’t think any other case has ever made him so exhausted before.

The man, who simply must be the culprit because if he isn’t then Hawks has no idea what he’s going to do, is named Franklin Homer – the fakest name anyone has ever had, probably – age thirty-one, no spouses or children. The photo in his file shows him with short plum hair and ugly bags under his eyes. He’s employed in some minor light-bulb producing company that has no importance whatsoever and, in general, seems to be the most regular boring guy you could imagine. His quirk is listed as ‘bye bye’, with no further details, and the address provided in his file takes Hawks to a completely unassuming building in the slightly worse-off area of the town.          

The apartments here seem not to have balconies but it’s only a problem if you aren’t creative. Hawks takes exactly four seconds to consider walking into the building like a normal person to use an elevator, but that ridiculous idea is quickly discarded. Knocking on the criminal’s door could potentially alert him that he’s been found and cause him to run, increasing the risk of him getting away.

Having decided on that, Hawks flies up to the seventh floor where the guy’s place is supposed to be, using the cover of darkness to remain mostly unseen. Before he barges in and demands explanation, he sneaks a look inside to make sure it’s actually his suspect who lives there – it wouldn’t do if he accidentally broke into some random innocent person’s apartment. Explaining that would be a real fun challenge.

At first nothing happens. It’s as if there’s nobody inside – no sounds, no movement – only the lights being on indicating that the flat isn’t empty. Definitely no sight of Dabi, kidnapped or otherwise.

A few minutes pass and finally, Hawks sees one of the doors inside open. Judging by the steam and the fact that the guy who emerges is only wearing a towel, it probably leads to the bathroom. Feeling like a creepy stalker for staring at someone basically naked, Hawks glances away, his cheeks warming without his permission. He’s not a prude, okay? He’s just not a weird pervert.

When he feels it’s been long enough for the man to change, Hawks dares to look inside again. His heart almost leaps out of his chest in excitement – there’s no mistaking it, this is the guy he’s here for. Plum hair, average face, looking as if he could really use a can of a good energy drink. Or twelve.

Culprit identified, all that’s left to do is get in there and make him talk, whatever way necessary. Right? But, well, the longer Hawks is staring at this pitiful excuse of a human being, the less sure he feels about it. Could a guy who wears a too big Teletubbies t-shirt as pyjamas and eats cereal(?) with water(???) for dinner really be some evil mastermind? Someone who managed to overpower Dabi? This person is currently weeping over an episode of Martha Speaks, for god’s sake!

This is… not who he was expecting. Suddenly, the idea of bursting in and kicking the guy’s ass until he spills all he knows about Dabi’s disappearance seems kind of… mean. And hey, Hawks is supposed to be a hero, right? There must be a better way to deal with this.

He ends up taking the elevator. Some old lady lets him in without questions after she realizes who he is, winking at him and wishing him luck in capturing evil forces. The ride up is awkward, as he shares the way too small area with a middle aged woman and her fluffy dog who’s constantly trying to munch on his feathers. The woman has earbuds blasting music loud enough for Hawks to hear and doesn’t even spare him one look.

Once on floor seven, it only takes him a few seconds to locate the proper flat. The dark brown door is, you guessed it, painfully average. It doesn’t look especially expensive but it also isn’t in bad enough shape to call it rundown. It’s just a door.

Hawks knocks, noting the lack of any bell, and hopes he’s not making a mistake. This could easily backfire on him, that much is obvious, and the truly sad part is it wouldn’t be the first time his kindness got in a way during a mission.

The wait isn’t too long. It doesn’t seem like the man is worried about having unexpected visitors. He would be if he was hiding a very dangerous, highly-wanted criminal in his bedroom, right?

Franklin’s eyes widen slightly when he catches the sight of his guest but quickly composes himself, expressing only regular confusion. Not quickly enough for Hawks not to notice it though.

“Hawks! It’s… it’s an honour, really, I’ve never thought… I mean… How can I help you?”

“Hi, you’re Franklin Homer, yeah? Great. Look, I’m having a problem with this one case of mine, you know how it is, even Number Two can’t do everything alone, haha! And I was hoping you could help me a little. What do you say?”

“Me?” Franklin chuckles nervously, unsuccessfully trying to cover the Teletubbies on his t-shirt with his arms. “How could someone like me help someone like you?”

Hawks narrows his eyes, even as he keeps his lips in a friendly smile. “A little bird told me you might have information I need.”

“Me?” The man widens his eyes, a little bit too dramatically. “No, no way, you must have me mistaken with someone else. I’m really sorry, but I barely leave this house, you see, so I couldn’t possibly know anything of use to someone like you.”

The guy smiles apologetically, retreating back into his apartment, his hand on the frame as if he’s about to shut the door in Hawks’ face. Hawks knows a liar when he sees one, though, and this guy stinks of secrets.  

So that’s it for the peaceful approach, huh?

Dashing forward, Hawks successfully blocks the entrance and prevents Franklin from closing the door. The guy gulps, his eyes darting back and forth as if searching for an escape route, stumbling even further back with a nervous chuckle.

There goes that innocence then.

“Now, now, don’t be so hasty,” Hawks says, stepping closer and closer, allowing his wings to stretch open into their full intimidating glory. “There must be something you can tell me.”

Honestly, he still kind of feels bad for that guy. Which is ridiculous, because he almost certainly kidnapped his boyfriend. But, just, look at his face! He looks as if he’s about to piss himself at any moment! What kind of criminal is this?!

“I—I—I swear I didn’t do anything! Please don’t put me in jail!”

His voice is properly shaken, his face almost green, everything in Franklin presents as perfectly terrified. It’s only his reflexes and years of experience that allow Hawks to dodge the attack in time, rolling down on the floor, and at the same time sending a bunch of his feathers to immobile the guy who’s just sent a suspicious violet beam of light at him.

So this must be the quirk.

“Agh! Let me go! Let me go, you hear me?! I didn’t do anything! This is an abuse of power!”

What did he say about feeling bad for this guy? Yeah, Hawks takes it back. He should have just started with shooting and then proceeded to asking questions later.

“Now, you weirdo, tell me what the hell you’ve done to my boyfriend,” he demands, towering over the trashing man who’s currently pinned to the floor.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about! This is assault! I’m going to call the police on you!”

Feeling a vein in his forehead twitch in annoyance, Hawks bares his teeth. “Start talking or I will make sure you’re not going to call anyone ever again.”

Is that a little excessive? Maybe. Should Hawks, official Number Two Hero, not be acting like that towards civilians? Probably. Does he give a flying fuck about it? Not really.

This guy did something to Dabi, after all. He will be lucky if he lives long enough to file a complaint about Hawks’ behaviour.

“What—what do you want from me? I don’t even know your stupid boyfriend!”

“Black hair, lots of scars, very hot – literally. Rings any bells?”

“You…” The guy blinks, suddenly stopping his whining to stare at Hawks with honestly an insulting amount of judgement. “You’re actually dating that guy?”

Hawks eyes narrow even further. “And what about it?”

“Nothing, nothing,” Franklin says, attempting to raise his hands in a defensive gesture but then yelping when he’s violently stopped by the sharp feathers. “I mean, you’re allowed to have weird taste. But I expected better from you.”

“What are you even…?” Hawks’ forehead scrunches in confusion for a second, before he just shakes his head. “Just tell me what you did to him!”

“Weeell, I’m afraid your dear boyfriend is no longer with us.” Franklin shrugs, his expression way more villain-worthy than ever before. “Sorry.”

The world comes to a halt for a small, terrifying moment.

“What did you just say?”’

Franklin doesn’t seem to notice the change in the atmosphere just yet. “He was shooting fire at me, you know, Mr Hero? He was trying to kill me! What was I supposed to do? I was just defending myself!”

Hawks barely hears him.

Dabi… Dabi’s dead? Actually dead?

No. No, it can’t be possible. It can’t, right? Dabi wouldn’t be killed so easily. Not by someone like this.

Hawks doesn’t even notice when his hands start trembling.

All these weeks of searching, digging, hoping – was all of that worthless from the beginning? Was he an idiot to believe Dabi would just miraculously be found alive, even knowing the chances of that were close to zero? What is he going to tell the League? Will they be able to go on without him?

Will Hawks?

“You… you killed him?”

Franklin stops his ramblings, once again blinking in confusion. “Kill him? What are you talking about? I didn’t kill him. I’m not a monster!”

“What…? So he’s not dead?”

Hawks poor heart is not going to survive this conversation.

“You’re kind of slow, aren’t you?” Franklin eyes him with poorly hidden contempt. “No, your boy toy isn’t dead. At least he wasn’t when I last saw him. While he was trying to kill me, let me remind you! I didn’t want to die so I did what I had to do. He’s not dead, he’s just… not here anymore.”

This conversation is starting to give Hawks a headache.

“You mean, you used your quirk on him,” he states the obvious, letting out a small relieved sigh, at the same time calling his feathers back.

“Exactly! So you can be smart if you want to!” Franklin smiles widely, relaxing a little after finally being freed. Then, he hesitantly sits up, constantly keeping an eye on Hawks as if expecting to be detained again, and when that doesn’t happen, he starts rubbing on his reddened wrists, wincing from the discomfort. “Man, didn’t anyone ever tell you that you should be more gentle with people you want help from?”

“Stop wasting my time and tell me what your quirk does before I decide killing you wasn’t such a bad idea.”

“Nah, you wouldn’t kill me,” the guy has the guts to say, waving a hand in dismissal. “You’re a hero. I know your type. You’re all bark and no bite.”

“Which part of ‘this high-ranking villain you kidnapped is actually my boyfriend’ gives you the impression that I’m anything like other heroes?”

“It’s just your vibe. You seem too nice for murder.”

Hawks just sighs, having no idea how else he could react to that, other than taking out a feather and proving the guy wrong. But that definitely wouldn’t help him find Dabi, so. Talking first, murder second.

“Can you just tell me what your quirk does so we can both go back to our lives and forget this ever happened?”

Franklin pouts, even as he picks up some unidentified crumbs from the floor and puts them in his mouth. “I can’t tell you that!”

Hawks’ eyebrow twitches. “Why not?”

“It’s classified!” the guy shouts with so much glee it’s almost embarrassing. Hawks needs to constantly be reminding himself that this person is supposed to be older than him.

While Franklin sits there all self-satisfied, Hawks considers what his next action should be. Evidently threats don’t work on him and he’s avoided the subject enough times by now to safely assume he’s not comfortable talking about his quirk. That’s obviously bad because his quirk is what made Dabi disappear. What did Franklin say? That it made Dabi be ‘no longer here’ but not dead? Whatever that’s supposed to mean.

“Alright,” he says eventually, forcing his voice to show as little of his impatience as possible. “Don’t tell me. It doesn’t matter. Just reverse whatever you did and bring Dabi back and you will never see me again.”

“Of course I will see you, silly, you’re on TV, like, constantly. It’s getting kinda annoying, I mean, it almost feels like one of these days I’m gonna open a fridge and your face will be there,” Franklin complains, scrunching his nose. Before Hawks can snap at him to get to the point, he’s already opening his mouth again. “Anyway, I can’t bring him back.”

And again, Hawks’ heart turns into stone. “What do you mean you can’t bring him back? You just said he wasn’t dead!”

Franklin sighs, as if he’s the one tired of this conversation. “My quirk works only one way, okay? I can send people away, sure, but I can’t bring them back.”

Send where, some part of Hawks’ brain wonders, but it’s a fleeting thought, overshadowed by the crushing realization of what Franklin’s words mean. Dabi can’t be brought back, he said. Dabi is gone, as good as dead.

Hawks is never going to see him again.

“This place you sent him to, wherever it is,” he says quietly, staring at the floor. There’s a terrible decision being made somewhere in the back of his mind and he can’t be bothered to stop it. “Is he safe there, at least? Happy?”

“As happy and safe as he would be here, I suppose,” the man answers, making a thoughtful gesture. “If he plays his cards right, he might even end up better off than he was here.” 

Hawks can feel his head nod absentmindedly, although his whole perception is rather dulled right now. “Good.”

With numb fingers, he reaches for his phone, ignoring the way Franklin tenses at the action. Almost on autopilot, he finds the fake League group chat, the one created only so he could be in it, and types a few short messages.

TO: bad ass bitches 🔪🔪

i found out what happened to dabi

some asshole hit him with a quirk that transported him somewhere, i don’t know where

he’s alive and fine but he won’t be back

i thought you should know

thanks for all you did for him, he really cared about you a lot

i do too, despite everything

and now I’m about to do something really stupid so

sorry

wish me luck

He hesitates, unsure if he should wait for a response, but eventually pockets his phone while his texts still remain unread. His heart is pounding in his chest, the reality of what he’s about to do making him equally excited and terrified. How far a person will go for love, huh.

And to think that, only a year ago, Hawks would kill Dabi with no hesitation if that was his order.

A soft chuckle escapes his mouth. This is probably the first time in his life he’s completely in control of his life. This decision is an absolutely stupid reckless one that no sane person would ever make. But it’s his decision. And it feels more freeing than he would have ever expected. 

He lets himself think about Rumi and Yu, and Tsunagu, about the League, about Endeavor even – about all of the few people he could call friends. The only pieces of his pathetic life that might be worth mourning.

Then he thinks about Dabi – his crooked, cocky smirk that caused fire to burn in Hawks’ gut like never before, his adorably peaceful sleeping face, how even after all of the betrayals between them the other man could still find it in himself to trust him enough to leave himself so vulnerable, about how soft and beautiful he looked covered in moonlight during their little stolen away moments, about that time they were stargazing and Hawks started shivering, and Dabi draped his coat over him like a gentleman from a cheesy romance movie. He remembers how, in those rare moments, Hawks’ heart felt so full, so light, and how empty his existence has been in those last few weeks, and, as the choice settles in his stomach, he’s only a little sad.

“Franklin,” he starts, raising his gaze back to the man, ignoring the sudden wild buzzing of his phone. He’s sure he’s being selfish, but, honestly, he hasn’t been a good person for a long time now. Maybe ever. “Use your quirk on me. Send me where you sent Dabi.”

Franklin blinks, then his mouth stretches into a wide, ugly grin. Hawks is ready when the purple beam of light hits him. As the darkness pulls him into its embrace, he lets it take him, with Franklin’s delighted laughter echoing in his ears until he can’t hear anything at all.

Chapter Text

“Hawks?”

Dabi is frozen in place, shock rendering him unable to say anything else beside that name. His eyes must be wide as saucers, because he can’t stop staring. His breath gets caught up in his chest as the figure in front of him gets equally still, mouth falling open in such a painfully familiar way Dabi’s heart squeezes pathetically. His poor, overcooked brain desperately tries to make sense of what’s happening, having already made his peace – more or less – with the fact that he won’t be seeing Hawks ever again. But all it can come up with is making him pinch his arm hard. Twice.

“Wha– Dabi?” Hawks whispers, expression shell-shocked as his gaze shifts from Endeavor to him. He takes a hesitant step forward, his eyes already a little glossy, the storm of emotions he must be dealing with inside manifesting through the slight shaking of his hands.

Still dazed, it takes Dabi a few seconds to force his throat to work. All he can think of is the wild urge to wrap his arms around his stupid boyfriend and never let go, as if he could somehow prevent him from disappearing that way. He’s faintly aware how suspicious this whole scene must look to his father who’s just standing next to them, staring at them blankly, but, right now, he couldn’t care less. By some miracle, Hawks, his Hawks, is here, breathing, living, remembering.

“Hi?” he manages to croak over the sudden lump in his throat. “Long time no see?”

Something flashes across Hawks’ face, something feral and heart-breaking, and before anyone can react, he’s already in Dabi’s personal space. On instinct, Dabi closes his eyes, ready to meet his boyfriend in a passionate, long-awaited kiss.

Instead, he feels his left cheek sting. Harshly.

“Fuck you,” Hawks, who definitely has just slapped him, spits furiously, his voice cracking a little. “You left, you asshole! With no explanation!”

Holding a hand to his aching face, Dabi winces, “Yeah, guess I deserved that.”

“Hell yeah, you did! Do you have any idea how worried I was?!”

And now Endeavor is glaring. Great. The last thing Dabi needs is for his father to get even more ridiculous ideas in his head, like their relationship being abusive or something. That slap barely hurt. It was nothing compared to some of their rougher kinky times.

“Sorry? In my defence, it wasn’t really my fault—” he attempts to placate his boyfriend, but Hawks cuts him off.

“Shut up.”

And then, his hand is grabbing the front of Dabi’s tank top and finally, they’re kissing.

Dabi can feel Endeavor experience five consecutive heart attacks, but with Hawks’ lips on his, his father is the last thing he wants to think about. He moans into the kiss before he can stop himself, his hands gripping the other’s arms to keep him from pulling back. Not that Hawks has any intention of stopping, if his own pleased groan is anything to go by.

“What’s… going on here?” Their heartfelt moment is shattered by a perplexed looking Endeavor, who is staring at them in total confusion mixed with something a little dangerous.      

Hawks freezes then, his eyes wide and so very confused, as it finally hits his brain that Dabi and Endeavor are in the same house. Together. Not dead. With nothing visibly on fire (yet).

“Right, uhm,  what the hell…?” Hawks asks, his gaze darting nervously from a glaring Endeavor to a surprisingly not murderous Dabi. The absolute bewilderment on his face is kind of adorable.

Until it turns into sharp realization – a quiet gasp, a flash of genuine horror, a life-long illusion breaking into million little pieces. 

Sighing and praying for patience, he curses whatever stupid god decided to make his life this difficult and then pulls Hawks closer harshly, putting a hand over his mouth to stop him from blurting something they will both regret.

“Oh, we had a fight,” he says to his father in response, ignoring the muffled protests of his boyfriend and trying to sound casual, totally not like he’s hiding something. Unfortunately for him, his father is already looking more than a little suspicious and come on, what has he done to deserve this fate?

(Yeah, okay, nevermind.)

“A fight…?”

“Yup, you know how it is with love.” Dabi pauses. “Well, you probably don’t. But yeah, we had a fight, but we’re good now, aren’t we, darling?”

Still trying to get Dabi’s palm away from his mouth, all Hawks does is narrow his eyes at him, mumbling something unintelligible. That’s enough of an answer. Judging by his rather cold attitude, Endeavor doesn’t really care about Hawks’ opinion anyway.

“Right.” His father grimaces at that, visibly fighting with himself not to make any rude comments. “So that was you… making up?”

“Exactly.”

“And was there really no better time for this?”

“Oh, you know, I forgot to tell you, but we have a project for school to finish,” he says the first fairly logical thing that comes to his mind that might work as an excuse, while also releasing the hold on his boyfriend. It’s not like he can tell them the truth. Well, he can, but he doesn’t see that going very well. “We didn’t want to get a bad grade because of some small argument.”

“What the fuck are you talking abo—”

Hawks’ strained voice is quickly cut off by Dabi’s forced chuckle as he sends the birdbrain a pointed glare that he hopes conveys his silent ‘shut up’ well enough. “He was supposed to come a little later though. It seems like he’s a little… lost with his time.”

Endeavor tsks in displeasure. “Did you forget you’re going to the agency with me today? There’s no time for any ‘projects’.”

Dabi rolls his eyes. “I said I would go to your stupid agency, didn’t I? It won’t take long. We will be done in an hour.”

There’s a rather long silence when Dabi stares down his father and Hawks stands next to him looking cute and still in mild shock – by which Dabi means that if his eyes got any wider they would probably just pop out – before, eventually, Endeavor sighs.

“Fine. But next time you will tell me if you invite someone to my house before they show up, am I clear?”

“Sure, whatever,” Dabi replies with a shrug and they both know he won’t. He then grabs Hawks’ hand again and pulls him towards the stairs with a little more force than strictly necessary. “Come on, birdbrain. Don’t just stand there like an idiot. We have a lot to do.”

Hawks just nods numbly, following without further complaints, and it’s so out of character that Dabi begins to worry that his idiot might be having a meltdown. With Dabi’s luck it wouldn’t even be surprising.

They are almost at the bottom of the staircase when Rei’s voice reaches them all the way from the dining room.

“Touya, is that Keigo? You should invite him to eat something, we have lots left!” His mother tries to sound innocent, like she’s just trying to be a good host for a guest, but Dabi can hear the smirk in her tone. Damn his family and their unhealthy investment in his love life.

Hawks flinches for some reason and the look on his face starts to slowly resemble one of a wild animal, cornered and terrified. Dabi can feel himself frown, concerned against his better judgement. All this has to be quite shocking to the hero, just like it was for Dabi that first day, but even his reaction wasn’t so bad and no offence to Hawks, but Dabi thinks his life changed a little bit more in those ten years.

“He already ate! And we’re going to be busy, so don’t interrupt us!” Dabi shouts back, having to suppress another eyeroll. The last thing he needs is one of them overhearing something they shouldn’t from the inevitable conversation he and Hawks are going to have.

“Ohh, they’re going to be busy,” Natsuo snickers and although he can’t see him, Dabi can clearly imagine him wiggling his eyebrows.

“Am I going to have to ask you to keep your door open?” Rei asks with badly hidden laughter and maybe Dabi would have been annoyed or embarrassed by his family if he was a normal person. But in this house, the fact that they’re even allowed to joke about things like that without a threat of pain or new burns, and that Endeavor’s only reaction to the topic is a displeased growl seems more like a miracle than reality, and so Dabi only smiles, shaking his head with exasperation.

He can feel Hawks’ eyes on him, less panicked and more calculating now, narrowed in thought in a manner so familiar that Dabi’s chest burns. He hasn’t allowed himself to think about it much before, afraid of the suffering it would surely bring him, but he’s missed Hawks. His Hawks. He missed him so much that all he can think about right now is getting him alone in his room and squeezing the life out of him to make sure this is real and his boyfriend is really here. No matter how many things this is going to complicate, Dabi can’t force himself to be in any way upset about Hawks getting sent to this weird universe too, even if he feels a bit bad about young Keigo basically getting his life stolen.

“Come on, they won’t bother us,” he assures the other boy quietly, not letting go of the hand that’s still in his grasp. Briefly, he wonders if it’s weird for Hawks to hold his hand and not feel the scars there, but he doesn’t allow himself to dwell on it. “We really have a lot to talk about.”

“You think?” Hawks mumbles under his breath and it’s still weak, nowhere near his usual cheek, but it’s something and Dabi counts it as a win.

Soon enough they enter his bedroom, closing the door behind them with a pointedly loud thud. Hawks raises an eyebrow at him and Dabi shrugs, unapologetic. The birdboy opens his mouth, probably to say something stupid, but then the words die on his tongue when his eyes fully register the edgy clusterfuck that is Dabi’s room.

“What—” He blinks, speechless. “Why—”

“Don’t ask, it’s a long story,” Dabi quickly says, unwilling to explain what exactly led to his room looking like that. Hawks doesn’t need any more reasons to make fun of him.

“Oh, yeah, speaking about long stories,” Hawks says sweetly, deceptively casual. Dabi winces. “Care to explain what the fuck is going on here?”

“Well—”

“Endeavor’s your father?” his boyfriend interrupts, not in the mood to beat around the bush. There’s a heart-breaking vulnerability in his gaze, something shattered, something suspiciously like childhood innocence, but his voice remains steady. “Is—is he the one who gave you your scars?”

“Yeah,” Dabi croaks after only a moment of hesitation, throat dry. “That’s dear old dad.”

“Ah,” Hawks sighs, closing his eyes. “I was afraid you would say that.”

He’s not sure what he expected from Hawks. It’s not a secret, his boyfriend’s borderline worship of the ground Endeavor steps on. Whenever he spoke about his career, he always cited the man as being his biggest inspiration. He used to have an entire room in his stupid penthouse just for Endeavor merch, for fuck’s sake. It must be a lot, to have this perfect image destroyed like that. Even if Dabi’s been trying for months now to stop this ridiculous fanboying.

(He tells himself he never told Hawks about this because it didn’t matter. Not because, deep down, he might have been afraid his boyfriend wouldn’t believe him.)

“Fucking asshole,” Hawks spits suddenly, his face twisting into an expression of pure disgust. “I can’t believe I wasted so much of my time on him. No wonder you hated him so much.” Then, as he’s struck by some realization, his eyes widen again. “Shit, and I told you you were being petty! I defended him! What the hell, Dabi? Why did you let me do that? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I wasn’t planning on telling anyone, if that makes you feel any better,” Dabi says with a shrug, faking indifference. Inside though, a disgustingly mushy warmth has spread all over his body.

“And I worked with him!” Hawks goes on, as if Dabi didn’t say anything, getting angrier and angrier with every word. “I told him about Fuyumi’s engagement! …Oh, fuck. You saw my collection. Oh, that must have been so weird. God, I’m an idiot! He was always rude, but I just thought it was this façade he would put on, you know, tough love, but it turns out he was an abusive piece of shit all along? And I slept with his plushie for yea—ugghh”

Dabi cuts the other’s babbling off with a kiss.

His boyfriend makes a surprised noise, but quickly melts into Dabi’s embrace, returning the kiss with similar desperation to the one that’s still pulsing under Dabi’s skin. He didn’t even realize how much he missed this – how he needed Hawks’ touch, their easy closeness, the intimacy and the impossible sensation of being loved unconditionally.

Too soon, Hawks is pulling away, ignoring Dabi’s protesting whines. It’s a little pathetic, maybe, how dependent he suddenly feels, but he can’t quite shake the fear that if he lets go, Hawks will disappear again. He’s not sure he could take it.

At least his boyfriend seems similarly affected, if his flushed cheeks and longing looks are anything to go by. Dabi doesn’t think he’s ever hated Hawks’ dumb responsibility more than he does now.    

“Stop talking about my father,” Dabi whispers, panting a little, his voice rough. Their faces are still close enough for Dabi’s breath to tickle Hawks’ eyelashes. Staring at his lover’s face with what he suspects must be bordering on worship, he puts his hand on Hawks’ cheek and gently caresses it with one finger.

“Yeah,” Hawks replies dumbly. “Yeah, okay.” He covers Dabi’s hand with his own and just holds it there for a moment, closing his eyes as if he also needs the contact for reassurance. Eventually, he lets out a sigh. “Fuck, I missed you.”

“Would have never guessed,” Dabi replies dryly and laughs when Hawks frowns at him. “I missed you too.”

They are both silent for a moment, enjoying each other’s company and trying to wrap their heads around the fact that they’re actually together again. It’s nice. It’s more than Dabi thought possible. There’s a million things he needs to say, million things he needs to ask, but all of that can wait.

“You know,” Hawks finally breaks the silence, his thumb softly stroking Dabi’s cheek, “call me weird, but I think I will miss the scars.”

Dabi scoffs, attempting to avert his gaze. “No, you won’t.”

Hawks grin gets cheeky. “Yes, I will.”

“Shut up.”

“Make me.”   

So he grabs the front of Hawks t-shirt and smashes their mouths together again, if only because he can.

***

Later, once they’ve had enough of making up for the lost time, they relocate to Dabi’s bed, where Hawks teasingly comments on the red blanket and so Dabi has to try to suffocate him with it. Then, after they’re both breathless and grinning like smitten teenagers, they lie down beside each other, Hawks’ head on Dabi’s chest and Dabi’s fingers in his hair, a thousand things to say still between them.

“My birth name is Todoroki Touya,” Dabi reveals unprompted, voice quiet, unwilling to disturb the fragile peace.

“Mine is Takami Keigo,” Hawks replies, just as quietly. “But I guess you already knew that.”

Dabi hums. “I did. I’m surprised you didn’t mention that before. Having a villain father would win you a lot of points with the League.”

“Not worth it,” is all Hawks says, quick and quiet. A touchy subject then. Alright. “And I wasn’t allowed to reveal that anyway. For all legal purposes, Takami Keigo doesn’t exist.”

“Dunno, I would say he’s quite real to me,” Dabi responds, playfully squeezing the other boy’s shoulder. Hawks snorts, but it’s weak and lacks conviction. Deciding to take pity on him, Dabi changes the subject, “So, say, how much do you know about this place?”

“Not much,” Hawks admits, staring absentmindedly at his own palm, so much smaller and more delicate than it used to be, the claws still there, not meticulously filed down by the Commission. “It’s clearly some sort of past. But not our past, is it?”

“Nope. Unless you remember us being best friends in high school.”

“I never went to high school.”

“Well, then you’re in for a treat. It sucks just as much as you think it does. This one teacher we have—”

“Dabi.” His boyfriend turns a little to send him a pointed look. “Focus.”

“Right. So, I figured it’s most likely some alternate dimension. Most major things are still the same, but the details differ just enough to make it confusing.” Like Hawks being raised by his mother or Endeavor being slightly less awful. Things that seem inconsequential but change almost everything. “For example, have you noticed we’re the same age here?”

Hawks blinks, as if it didn’t occur to him before. “Does it mean I can no longer tell people I’m banging a hot older man?” he pouts.

Dabi raises an eyebrow. “Considering we’re both fifteen right now, you’re not banging anyone for quite a while.”

“Ew.” His boyfriend grimaces, pushing himself up from Dabi’s chest and instead sitting beside him. He looks a little crestfallen, but determined. “Yeah, you’re right. That’s too weird, even for us.” He pauses, tilting his head. The stray feathers from his wings tickle his face. “But kissing’s fine, right?”

“What do you think? I need some way to shut you up.” Which is as much of an enthusiastic yes as Dabi is going to give him. “It was annoying when I couldn’t do that. Your younger self was exactly as obnoxious as you, only he was an actual child and I’m not a creep, so I had to find other ways to deal with him. I’m glad you’re back.”

“So, you’re saying you didn’t take advantage of the younger me?” Hawks asks, sounding like he doesn’t entirely believe it. Should Dabi be insulted? Does his boyfriend think he’s into kids or something?

“Only a little,” he teases, propping his cheek on his palm. “Why? You jealous?”

Hawks rolls his eyes. “No. Just wondering what your family meant, about the door and stuff.”

“Oh, I told them we’re dating.” His boyfriend startles, as if not expecting that. Dabi grins at him. “You should have seen Endeavor’s face. He got so red, I thought he would explode.” He sighs at the memory, then deflates. “Too bad he didn’t.”

“But you just said you weren’t dating.”

Dabi raises an eyebrow. “Have you never heard of fake dating?”

Predictably, Hawks snorts and asks mockingly, “Is your life a fanfiction now?”

Sighing mournfully, Dabi uses his free hand to raise the hem of his tank top. “I feel there would be a lot more nakedness and a lot less talking here if it was.” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, but of course Hawks is too absorbed in other matters to get properly horny.

“So they all already know about us? We don’t have to hide or anything?”

“Nope,” Dabi confirms, popping the ‘p’. He wonders why on earth Hawks is so fixated on that. Maybe it’s the terrifying reality of suddenly going from no in-laws to a whole house of them? Is Hawks scared they’re not going to like him or some bullshit like that? Oh, that reminds him. “In fact, you’re going as my plus one to one of these stupid hero fundraisers next Saturday.”

“I am?” his boyfriend asks dumbly. Hasn’t he heard that Dabi just said that?

“Yes. I need a nice arm-candy and you’re the best I can get on such short notice.”

“Wow,” Hawks breathes sarcastically, fanning himself with his hand, “you’re gonna make me blush.”

Dabi snorts, but doesn’t allow the familiar bickering to distract him. There are still things he wants to know, needs to know, and there’s probably no better place to start than with the basics.

“Not that I’m not happy about it, but how the fuck did you even get here?”

“Well, that’s kind of a long story.” Hawks’ face twists into a tiny grimace. “You weren’t answering my texts, so I got worried and started searching for you. I went to the League hideout, but you weren’t there either and Toga almost gutted me, because they thought I did something to you. After we got that little misunderstanding sorted out, I began to investigate your last recorded sighting, trying to recruit some low-level thugs. Which, I don’t want to say that I told you it would bite you in the ass one day, but I definitely told you it would bite you in the ass one day.” Dabi just rolls his eyes, to which Hawks smiles faintly before turning serious again. “Anyway, I finally tracked down the guy who’s quirk made you disappear and… politely asked him to bring you back. But he said his quirk only worked one way and that you were safe, but could never get back. So I asked him to send me to you instead.”

“You—you did?”

For some reason, Dabi sort of assumed Hawks’ sudden appearance here was an accident. Coincidence or, at best, a stray shot during a fight. Not a conscious choice. The fact that his boyfriend abandoned everything, his whole life, just to find him... it’s making him feel funny things in his stomach again.

Hawks gives him a strange look. “Of course I did. We’re in this together, isn’t that what you said?”

“Ha!” Dabi clears his throat, deciding to ignore the wave of unexpected mushy emotions. “Yeah, my story isn’t so nice. The pricks pissed me off, like they always do, so I was going to kill them, but one of them managed to hit me with something. Next thing I knew, I was waking up in my childhood bedroom, ten years after faking my death. I was sure I got captured and this was some advanced form of torture. I burned down half of my room before even coming downstairs.”

"Oh god, wait, wait, wait," Hawks whispers, gesturing wildly. "You woke up here, in Endeavor’s house, thinking he was holding you captive, with your quirk fully intact? How is he still alive? Scratch that, how is anyone still alive?"

The genuine shock in those golden eyes makes Dabi snort, although he's a little bit insulted. How bad does Hawks think his self-control is?

Meanwhile, the boy in question seems to come to some horrifying realization as his eyes widen comically. "Shit, you said something about high school? Dabi, please tell me you didn't murder any teenagers."

"No, Hawks, I didn't murder any teenagers," Dabi replies dutifully.

This calms him down a little, at least. "Well, that's good." But then, just as Dabi was beginning to relax, Hawks face twists into a deep frown and he eyes Dabi suspiciously. "But how many people did you kill? Do we need to do any damage control?"

"None," Dabi says, rolling his eyes. "Jesus. Do you honestly have no faith in me?"

The expression his boyfriend makes answers that question pretty clearly. There's a disbelieving edge to his tone when he replies, "It's not like you've ever given me a reason to not assume the worst."

"Ouch." Dabi dramatically places his hand over where his heart is supposed to be, pretending to be hurt. "You wound me."

"Oh? So you don't remember that time I left town for one day and once I came back there was an entire building of mobsters burnt down by an 'unknown individual'? Or that time you got jealous over me talking to some sidekick and set her costume on fire? Or that another time-"

"Alright, alright, whatever." He tries hard not to pout. "Anyway, I'm not doing that anymore so no worries. Too busy being a good citizen and all that."

Hawks blinks, clearly caught off guard by that declaration.

"What, so you're, like, not a villain anymore?"

The hope in Hawks' voice is evident, even though his face clearly says he doubts that's the case.

For some reason, Dabi can feel himself avoiding the other's stare. "I guess," he mumbles. "But don't get any ideas."

He shouldn't have said that, he realizes as soon as the words leave his mouth. Now his little bird will definitely start getting ideas.

"Woah, that's amazing! You have no idea how happy that makes me." Hawks grins, acting like he didn't hear what Dabi's just said at all. "You've been here for what, two weeks..."

"More like a month." Dabi interrupts helpfully, but is ignored.

"...and you seriously managed to go without committing any crimes? Babe, I'm so proud."

"Now, I didn't say that," Dabi protests, because he might not be a villain anymore but he definitely isn't boring.

Their definition of boring has always been different though and so Hawks is right back to being worried slash disapproving, eyebrows creased and lips pursed. Even back in their own time this particular scolding face of his boyfriend would always remind Dabi of his mother, in some fucked up way. It made him feel guilty, even when he didn't really have anything to feel guilty for. And now, on this too young face, it looks even weirder, although still endearing.

"What do you mean?"

What does he mean indeed. There are words that want to jump right out with some flippant remark, but, for once, Dabi keeps them in and instead takes a moment to think about what he wants to say. Should he explain his little vigilante thing? Should he imply something nefarious and enjoy the way Hawks will fidget about it? Should he just not say anything at all and let him wonder?

Choices, choices. For some unexplainable reason, Dabi isn't too eager to reveal his dangerously hero-like nightly activities, almost feeling embarrassed about it – after all, he's been bragging about how fun it was to be a villain and how being a hero sucked for years now – and it would mean torturing his boyfriend a little, which is a great bonus. But they don't lie to each other if they don't have to – that’s a rule they had to establish very early on after the whole spy thing, if they hoped for this relationship to have any chance of working – and he doesn't think he can keep it a secret for too long anyway, so, in the end, it just seems easier to come clean now.

"Let's just say I found a better way to deal with my anger issues than terrorizing innocent people." Hawks raises one eyebrow and Dabi grins at him in response. "And that way is terrorizing criminals."

It takes a few seconds for the implications of his words to sink in, but when they do, Hawks’ entire demeanour brightens up.

"You're a vigilante?" he asks with poorly hidden delight.

Dabi scoffs, feeling his cheeks get warm. "Don't look at me like that. I still have fun punching people, only this time not everyone wants to put me in jail for it. There's nothing deep to it."

"But you said you didn't kill anyone," Hawks points out, this annoying smirk still on his face.

"Yeah, because I like not having a warrant on me," he says wryly. It's not entirely true, but that isn't the time for that can of worms. "It's still illegal. The only difference between this and villainy is that they don't end up dead afterwards. And that's just because Aizawa would definitely rat me out if they did."

"I don't believe you." If Dabi were to describe the look on his boyfriend's face in any way, he would say he resembles a cat that caught a canary. But since Hawks is basically a bird, he gets a feeling he wouldn't like that comparison very much. "You actually like helping people. Oh my god, that's gold. You have been a big softie all along."

"Careful there or I will have Endeavor throw you out," Dabi threatens, narrowing his eyes. He does not like helping people. Hawks is just delusional. "He would be happy to, I assure you."

"Aww, no threats of violent death? Who are you and what have you done to my boyfriend?" Hawks teases, absolutely unbothered. Dabi hates him.

Then the words register and the strangest feeling manifests in Dabi's chest. "You know, I'm really having a déjà vu right now."

At least this time Hawks' feather isn't about to slit his throat. Small victories.

"God, you have no idea how much I missed you," Hawks whispers suddenly, something soft appearing on his face. His eyes are all over Dabi, like he can't quite believe this is real. "I really thought for a moment that–"

He cuts himself off, as if unsure if he wants to finish the thought. All playfulness is gone, leaving them both strangely vulnerable.

"I wouldn't go down so easily," Dabi says gently, in a way he wouldn't for anyone else.

"But you did." Hawks' eyes darken. "If I hadn't gone looking for you, if this guy hadn't used his quirk on me as well, I would have never seen you again. I would have never known if you had died of if you had just decided I wasn't worth your time anymore."

“You know better than to think that,” Dabi mumbles, suddenly very interested in the skull-shaped embodiments on his duvet.

Hawks gives him an unimpressed look. “I do. That’s why I spent the last three weeks looking for you instead of assuming this was your very messed-up way of breaking up with me.”

Dabi scoffs. “If I was breaking up with you, you would know, trust me.”

Hawks smiles. “Ah, and there are the death threats. I was getting worried.”

Unfortunately, their peace is not meant to last. Dabi isn’t sure why he expected anything else, especially in this house. It can’t have been that long since he abandoned his breakfast, certainly not an hour, and yet there’s a very insistent knocking on his door. His siblings never knock and Rei wouldn’t be so rude about it, so this leaves only one possibility.

“Touya? Can I come in?” Endeavor asks, forcibly civil. He sounds annoyed at even having to ask permission.

“No,” Dabi shouts back, glaring at the door.

There’s a pause on the other side, as if his father had to take a calming breath, then a clipped, “We need to leave soon. You should start getting ready.”

“It hasn’t been an hour yet. I will come when we’re done.”

“Touya.”

“You’re their boss,” he points out, wishing for the man to just go away. “What are they going to do if we’re a little late? Fire you?”

“As their boss, it is important for me to show responsibility,” his father says snobbishly. Dabi rolls his eyes and makes a mocking gesture at Hawks, causing his boyfriend to snort. “You promised you would go. I would advise you not to go back on that promise, if you truly care about your friend.”

“Blackmailing your child is not good parenting!” Dabi yells back, unbothered by the threat.

Endeavor goes quiet for another moment, then simply says, “Be ready at ten,” and walks away.

“That’s… not what I expected,” Hawks comments after a moment, falling back onto Dabi’s decorative pillows. “For an asshole who almost killed you, he’s surprisingly docile.”

“Yeah, now. When I first got here, he almost strangled me. Then I yelled at him a lot and he supposedly had a change of heart. Now, he’s trying to be a better father or whatever.”

“He still has that scar on his face,” Hawks notices, playing with Dabi’s custom-made Eraserhead plushie. “Your doing?”

Dabi shrugs innocently. “He wanted us to have a training session.”

Hawks laughs at that and Dabi finds himself staring at him with a dumb smile, mesmerized. It hasn’t even been that long, but fuck, he missed him so much. The dull ache that’s been present in his heart ever since he’s woken up here, the one he hasn’t allowed himself to acknowledge lest it consumes him, is finally, slowly, receding, replaced by overwhelming affection.

Of course, Hawks wouldn’t be his boyfriend if he didn’t manage to instantly wipe the sappy smile off Dabi’s face with his stupid comments.

“So, who was he talking about?” he questions, cocking a curious eyebrow. "I didn’t know you had friends.”

“Ha, ha, you’re such a comedian,” Dabi comments dryly, to which his boyfriend only grins wider. In response, he lets his body drop down to a lying position as well, close enough for his hair to brush against Hawks’ t-shirt, and locks his eyes with the depressingly black ceiling. “It’s Twice. I met him in a store during an armed robbery, completely on accident. I forced him to have a beer with me and now we’re friends.”

Hawks does a double take. “Sorry, did you just say armed robbery?”

“Yeah, I have the worst luck,” is the only explanation he feels inclined to provide.

“Okaaay.” Even though he seems like he really wants to hear some more detailed explanation, Hawks lets it go. “So, you met Twice. That’s cool. But what does he have to do with whatever Endeavor wants from you?”

“Not just Twice. I met Toga, too. She’s quite a cute kid, when she isn’t trying to murder you.” Maybe a little when she is too. But then again, he’s biased. “But, yeah, Twice lost his house and his job and I wasn’t going to let him go through that again if I could help it, so I made Endeavor pull some strings, but now he’s blackmailing me to come with him to some weird parent-kid-workday at his agency.”

“Yikes. Remind me to stay away from him, otherwise I can’t promise I won’t punch him.”

At that, Dabi laughs sarcastically. “Good luck with that. You’re doing your internship with him. You’re going to spend the entire week together, just the two of you. I’m sure you must have fantasised about something like that at least once.”

At that, Hawks blinks. “My what now?”

Acting as if it isn’t a big deal, Dabi waves him off and drawls lazily, “Yeah, we have to do an internship with some pro hero for the next week. School requirement. Boring stuff. But, you arrived just in time, so you get the pleasure of hanging out with dear old dad while I laugh at you from a distance.”

“Wait, did you say we? Like, me and you?”

His boyfriend’s eyes are wide now and so, so confused.

“I’m Endeavor’s firstborn son,” he says, only a little bitterly. “What do you think, which high school would I attend?”

“Wait. Wait, wait, wait, wait.” Hawks sits up, looking like some grand revelation is happening in his mind. Dabi braces himself for the inevitable and, sure enough, his boyfriend bursts out laughing. “No! No way! You? In a hero course? Oh, that’s priceless. That’s the best thing that has ever happened to me. Even better than you being a vigilante. An actual hero!” He doubles down laughing again, while Dabi is left to bang his head against the mattress. Hawks wipes a tear from the corner of his eye. “Which one is it? U.A.? Please, tell me it’s U.A.” His gaze lands on the discarded Eraser plushie and his eyes light up. “Ah, so that’s how you know Aizawa! It all makes sense now!”

“Calm the fuck down, you maniac,” Dabi grumbles, ignoring the traitorous heat on his face. “It’s not U.A. I have some dignity left. It’s Shiketsu. The uniforms still suck, but at least the principal isn’t a fucking mouse.” Then, very carefully avoiding looking at the plushie, he adds stiffly, “And I only know Aizawa because he caught me vigilanting once and wouldn’t leave me alone.”

“Really?” Hawks purrs, evidently having way too much fun. “And who are you doing your internship with, again?”

Dabi smacks that smug expression from his face with a well-aimed pillow.

***

“So,” Hawks says a little breathlessly after they’re done with the impromptu pillow-fight-turned-make-out-session, one hand thrown over his face and the other squishing the Eraserhead plushie against his chest. “Anything else interesting you want to tell me about?”

“I got stabbed once?” Dabi offers, his own breathing quickened as well, aiming to make a joke. Only, he forgot not everyone shares his fucked up sense of humour.

His boyfriend whines, but doesn’t start berating him. So, progress?

“Dabi, what the hell. It’s been three weeks.”

“It wasn’t really my fault,” he feels the need to defend himself. “I saw a girl being attacked by a group of shady guys. She had this big scorpion tail and was doing a pretty good job of beating their asses, but I knew she wouldn’t last long, so I jumped in to help. Stupid heroic tendencies. You really must have infected me with them or something.”

“For the last time, being a hero is not an STD.”

“Anyway, we managed to beat them all and everything would be great, if she didn’t suddenly decide to stab me. With my own knife, too!”

He growls, remembering how stupid he felt, how for a moment he feared he truly might die, how warm his blood was against his hands and how cold his body felt in comparison.

Maybe it really wasn’t that funny.

“Aizawa found me and got this creepy U.A. nurse to heal me, so I was fine in the end. But, fuck, if I ever see that bitch again, I swear to god…”

“Scorpion tail, you say?” Hawks hums thoughtfully. “I fought someone like that once. Really nasty stuff, that venom of hers. Had to spend three days in a hospital after, getting all this antivenom pumped into me. You’re lucky it was just the knife.”

“She killed the rest of that guys with a knife too. She probably didn’t want to leave any evidence that might point to her. I mean, how many people with scorpion mutation can there be? A knife is much safer.”

“Anything else interesting? And, please, let me note here that I hope the answer is no.”

Dabi hums, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “Well, there was that time I got arrested for almost killing this villain…”

“It’s been a month!”

***

It would be nice to spend the entire day telling Hawks about all the crazy stuff that happened since he got here, but alas, it is not meant to be. He’s only managed to start talking about that time young Keigo tried to be a romantic and ended up breaking Dabi’s window, when Endeavor comes knocking again.

“Fine, fine, I’m coming,” he shouts, rolling his eyes and checking himself once more in the mirror.

It was strongly suggested to him that he should wear his hero costume for their little outing. It’s tempting to disregard Endeavor’s commands, but if he has to do this at all, he would much rather have a chance to beat someone up instead of watching from the sidelines, so the costume is sort of necessary. Because he burned down his old pathetic one, he was able to design himself something much better, so at least he’s not entirely embarrassed to have to wear it in public.

But, unfortunately – no matter how fashionable it is – him wearing a hero costume in front of Hawks is always going to be absolutely mortifying.

“You know, this is really doing it for me. I knew we should have tried hero roleplay when we still had a chance.”

“Shut up.”

“Although, the cape is kinda tacky. Sorry, but I’m a firm believer that only All Might can pull off a cape. You can never dream of competing with perfection.”

“Do you have a kink for buff older man? First my father, now All Might… I see a pattern here. Tell me, darling, do you want me to start working out more?”

Hawks snorts, not insulted by the implications in the slightest. Gross. “As if you would. You’re the laziest person I’ve ever met. Beside myself, that is.”

“Well, this lazy person is leaving,” he says, turning his back to the mirror and facing his boyfriend, who’s still sprawled comfortably on his bed. “You’re free to stay here and bother my family if you want, I don’t really care. Maybe ask Fuyumi to do your nails or play a game with Natsu.” His siblings are relatively easy to please and it would make Dabi’s life a lot less complicated if he made sure from the start his family likes the idiot he chose to fall in love with. “Oh, and you should probably figure out the password to your phone, if you haven’t already. Rumi will get pissed if you don’t text her back within an hour. And, boy, that girl texts a lot.”

“Rumi?” Hawks stills. “As in, Usagiyama Rumi?”

“Do you know any other Rumis?”

“She’s here too?”

“Well, not like we are. But she’s an upperclassman at Shiketsu. I only met her once, but you two are apparently close friends. Don’t make her too suspicious. Trust me, you don’t want to deal with that.”

He will tell Hawks about his younger self’s lovely attempt at Dabi’s life one day, when they have more time. He supposes with Rumi it wouldn’t stop at a little threat, but go straight to a nice kick to the stomach or maybe directly to your face. Better not to risk it.

“Touya!” Endeavor yells again, this time truly impatient.

“I said I’m coming!” he yells back, grabbing his knife holster and doing a quick work of fastening it to his right leg. Once he’s ready to leave, he shoots one last longing glance at his boyfriend and says, “Wish me luck, I guess. Or patience. Otherwise, I might just end up deciding to murder him after all.”

***

“So,” Endeavor inquires after a moment of awkward silence, his hands gripping the steering wheel of his favourite car like it’s someone’s neck, “have you decided who you are going to have your internship with?”

There’s a mocking undertone to his father’s words, intended or not. There’s no doubt his father saw the records of Touya’s lacking performance – obviously, he’s expecting to be the only one who sent Dabi an offer.

“I have,” he replies, keeping his voice properly mysterious. He very pointedly doesn’t even glance towards his father, instead keeping his gaze locked on the road in front of them.

“My agency has already received Takami’s acceptance,” Endeavor informs him, not even attempting to hide the grimace that twists his face. “You should hurry and send yours over as well.”

No longer able to keep himself from smirking, Dabi tilts his head, resting his cheek on his palm. “Oh, I already have.”

At that, his father frowns, sending him a stern look. “We did not receive anything. It must have gotten lost in the mail. You should send it again.”

Dabi can’t help but roll his eyes. How can someone be so shamelessly presumptuous?

“I never said I sent it to you.”

The car swerves violently to the right for a short second. Someone honks at them, someone else sends a middle finger after them. The vein on Endeavor’s forehead bulges dangerously, his grip on the steering wheel becoming deadly.

“Who else would you send it to.”

The man’s tone is so clipped from barely restrained anger that it doesn’t even sound like a question.

“Someone who can actually teach me something useful,” Dabi responds cheerily, ignoring a voice in the back of his head that sounds suspiciously like Hawks urging him to shut up before he causes his father to crash the car and kill them both.

“That’s ridiculous,” Endeavor grits out, his face twisted into an ugly grimace. “I am one of the best heroes out there, your quirk is almost identical to mine, and I already know what areas you most need to improve on. There is nobody better suited to be your mentor than me. Do not jeopardize your career just because of your personal feelings towards me.”

“Not everything is about you,” Dabi shoots back, crossing his arms over his chest stubbornly. “Believe it or not, I am thinking about my career with this choice. If I’m ever going to be a hero – and that’s still a big if – I’m sure as fuck not doing the whole limelight shit. I’m going underground. You can’t teach me about that.”

Endeavor’s frown deepens and he almost definitely wants to say something nasty about underground heroes, but in the end he manages to rein himself in. “Even so, I can still teach you valuable skills—”

“So can Aizawa,” Dabi cuts him off without much care.

The car swerves violently again, this time to the left. Some more honking follows them as Dabi struggles not to laugh.

“You’re doing your internship with Eraserhead?” Endeavor growls, the glare he aims at Dabi heated with a mix of humiliation and jealousy. Dabi thinks he really should be looking at the road instead.

“Sure am.” He shrugs, feigning nonchalance even as he relishes in the sight of his father so pissed off yet unable to do anything about it. “I mean, he’s pretty young, but he’s already an accomplished underground hero and a teacher at U.A.. I would say he’s a great choice for a mentor. Wouldn’t you agree?”   

Endeavor purses his lips so tightly they basically turn into a straight line. “Eraserhead might not be the worst choice,” he says, although it sounds like each word is ripped from his throat by force, “but I still think you would benefit more from interning with me. I urge you to reconsider.”

“No, thanks.” Dabi waves him off.

“I would provide you with the most suitable training—”

“No offence,” Dabi interrupts him again, the sickly sweet smile on his face screaming that he actually means ‘full offence’, “but all I ever got from your ‘trainings’ were bruises, scars, and nightmares. At least Aizawa isn’t going to set me on fire if I make a mistake. Can you say the same for yourself?”

Predictably, they spend the rest of the drive in silence.       

***

Much to Endeavor’s chagrin, they do end up being late. Dabi still doesn’t see how that’s a problem, but whatever. Let the man be furious over nothing. Maybe he’s going to give himself high-blood pressure and die of heart attack. What? A guy can dream.

The Endeavor Agency is busy when they arrive, with side-kicks running around and papers being thrown everywhere in chaos. If that’s what happens when their boss is not even ten minutes late, maybe Dabi should revaluate whether Endeavor’s concerns were as ridiculous as he thought.

Adding to the usual crime fighting madness are the children. A lot of children. Aged anything from six to… thirty? (Well, technically it’s not stated anywhere that ‘take your kid to work’ day concerns only underage children...) And all these children are fucking loud.

“Endeavor, sir!” Someone seems to finally notice their arrival, which would be impressive, considering the chaos, if his father wasn’t large like a mountain and literally on fire. It turns out to be the same side-kick that Dabi dealt with when coming here with Jin, the rude green-haired one. When she runs up to them and inevitably spots him, her expression sours. “Ah, I see you decided to bring your son with you after all.”

“I would like to note that I’m not here out of my own free will,” Dabi makes sure to comment, keeping his voice just a little too loud.

“Ignore him,” Endeavor sighs, while the suck-up sidekick is busy sending Dabi an offended glare. “What’s on the agenda today? Any recent alerts?”

“Nothing that would require your assistance, sir. It’s still early. Even evil needs sleep.”     

Ain’t that the truth, Mrs. Side-kick. Dabi puts his palm over his mouth to cover a yawn.

“And how is everything going here?” his father asks, observing the commotion around them with poorly hidden disdain. It’s especially prominent whenever his gaze lands on anyone below twenty. How this man managed to conceal his vehement hatred of children from the world up to this point, Dabi has no idea. “I hope nobody is causing too much trouble?”

“Well...” the woman hesitates, her eyes darting slightly to the side. Endeavor’s expression immediately sharpens in alarm. “There have been some minor incidents, but nothing for you to worry about. You know, just regular stuff you would expect from putting a bunch of children of fire quirk users in one room.”

“Let me guess,” Dabi says with a delighted smirk, “lots of things on fire?”

She doesn’t deign it with a response, but she does glare at him harder, so he takes it as a yes.

Endeavor sighs, pinching the top of his nose. “Just make sure the building is still standing by the end of the day.”

“Of course, sir!” She draws herself up, almost like she’s about to salute. Dabi begins to pity his father’s employees, even if they’re a little rude. “We’ve got it all under control! Don’t you worry about a thing!”

Endeavor doesn’t exactly look like he believes her, but nods nonetheless. Dabi suspects he’s already regretting agreeing to this whole thing. He doesn’t remember any ‘take your kid to work days’ happening in his own childhood, so it’s very likely this Endeavor only let it be organized so he could force Dabi to come to show him what a ‘great father’ he is. Through blackmail and threats.

“All right.” Endeavor clears his throat, his face closer and closer to becoming a full on grimace every time a kid in the background shouts something. Which is often. “We will be off then. I’m going to take Touya through my usual patrol route, see if we can catch any minor wrongdoers. If there’s any emergency, let me know immediately.”

The side-kick nods fervently. “Yes, sir! Leave it all to me!”

“Good luck with that mess,” Dabi snorts under his breath as the two of them turn to leave, and although he can’t see her reaction, he’s sure he wouldn’t be met with appreciation for his well wishes.

Just as the door of the agency start closing behind them, a panicked male voice can be heard yelling over the general ruckus.

“Burnin’! The microwave is on fire!”

Endeavor sighs heavily, but the sound is completely drowned out by Dabi’s maniacal burst of laughter.    

***

Patrolling the streets with Endeavor turns out to be weirdly… not awful. Mostly because the man keeps his mouth shut the entire time, lest the public notice that his family life is anything but perfect. He wouldn’t dare start any arguments when he’s painfully aware Dabi is not afraid of causing a scene.

It’s still nothing like this easy camaraderie he’s developed with Aizawa over their many shared late-night exploits, but he recons it could have been a lot worse.

There doesn’t seem to be any major flashy villain attacks happening anywhere close, so they focus on strolling through the streets in their funny clothes with the aim of providing the citizens with what heroes call ‘the sese of security’. Dabi calls it ‘bullshit’, nothing else than a fleeting illusion that, once shattered, would leave scars too deep to heal. Not that anyone is asking him.

Besides, it’s not really his problem, so he struts after his father without much complaining, watching as the great protector of Japan occasionally helps an elderly woman carry her heavy bags or rescues a cat that got stuck in a tree. It’s half-amusing half-absolutely-bizarre, seeing Endeavor perform all these decent-person-deeds seemingly without a second thought. Dabi wonders cynically how long it took him to learn this particular habit before it became so natural. He doesn’t believe for a second his father does it from the goodness of his own heart. Dealing with minor stuff like this is sidekicks’ job – if even that.

But what would people say about dear old Enji if someone caught a photograph of him refusing such a simple request? Now, that would be a stain on his reputation he couldn’t allow. It’s all perfectly calculated.

It’s making Dabi sick.

Slowly, the buildings around them start losing some of their height until they’re walking through an area consisting mostly of detached houses, with less traffic and considerably less people. It seems redundant for a hero as strong as Endeavor to patrol a place like this – especially since it’s less likely his efforts will get captured on camera. Dabi doesn’t voice his confusion, of course. He doesn’t give a shit where they go as long as it means they’re closer to the end. This day is already tedious enough, not to mention how much being away from Hawks so soon after getting him back is messing with his poor heart.

They’re just passing by a regular white house, with strikingly red door and electric blue flowers sitting snugly on the window sills, when some sort of commotion jerks Dabi out of his lovelorn musings.

“Help!” someone shrieks from behind them. “Help me! He’s crazy!”

Dabi turns sharply and so does his father, both of them instinctively assuming a fighting stance. The flames covering Endeavor’s costume flare to life as if fuelled by adrenaline. Unconsciously, Dabi’s hand travels to the knife holster and it takes him a few seconds to realize that somehow it has become his first response instead of going for his quirk.

Instead of any obvious threat, all that they see in front of them is an approaching figure of a middle-aged man. True, the man is running quite fast and the expression on his sweaty face is pretty terrified, but, at least as far as Dabi can see, nothing is following him. Maybe the guy is on drugs, Dabi thinks. People can get weird even after one bad fix – been there, done that. But, whether the danger is real or not, the man’s fear obviously is. It’s only when his gaze lands on them, that his entire body nearly drops in relief.

“Endeavor!” the man cries, halting only a couple feet or so before them. “Oh, Endeavor, thank god you’re here! Please, you have to protect me! My son, he’s insane! He’s trying to kill me!”

Endeavor, although clearly perplexed, does not get out of his battle stance, flexing his muscles against the tacky spandex. Dabi, on the other hand, instantly relaxes, back to his regular slouching. If he’s honest, the man looks and sounds like a complete lunatic, and even if he did have some sort of scuffle with his son, it’s very unlikely that the guy would actually try to kill him. And in a slight possibility that he’s telling the truth, well, Dabi’s pretty confident his fire will work faster than his body ever could anyway.

“Now, you need to calm down,” Endeavor says in his usual gruff tone, but it seems like he’s at least attempting to be somewhat polite. “Explain what is going on. What is your name? What are you running from?”

“No, you don’t understand!” The man shakes his head frantically, wild eyes darting around as if expecting whatever danger he so fears to jump out at him from behind a bush at any moment. “There’s no time! You need to save me! He’s going to kill me! Oh my god, he’s going to kill me! Please, Endeavor, I beg you, save me from him! He completely lost his mind!”

“There is no one here,” Endeavor replies impatiently, after quickly scanning the area for any threats. The only other people on the street right now is an old woman with her maybe four-year-old grandson. No one that could be feasibly identified as this man’s crazy murderous son. “You are safe with me. Now, tell me your name and I will see how I can help you.”

The man does not lose any of his agitation, his body stiff as a board and ready to bolt at a moment’s notice, but he does appear to get a better grip on his panic for long enough to exhale deeply and attempt to give an explanation.

“I’m—My name is Dakamura Hiro. I’m a doctor,” he says shakily, unable to stop glancing behind himself every other second, “and I live close by, just a few streets from here. My son, he’s always been unpredictable and rebellious. I had my hands full with him, I did, especially after his mother died. But now? He went absolutely crazy! He attacked me, in my own house! He said he was going to kill me! So I ran and—and I’m sure he’s after me, he hates me, he won’t let me go, oh no, he won’t. I was so sure I was dead but then I ran into you. Oh, you can’t imagine how relieved I am! I know you will not let him harm me.”

Well, to be frank, the story sounds like bullshit to Dabi. Endeavor seems to be buying it – of course he is, what was he even expecting? – nodding his head with a serious expression on his face and, naturally, not a shadow of a doubt. He really is just taking this guy’s story at face value? Seriously? Dabi didn’t think he could lose any more respect for his father – he had no idea there was still any left, in fact – but somehow, it’s exactly what happens.

“Mr. Dakamura, I am sure—”

“Sorry, but I think you failed to mention one thing,” Dabi interrupts his father, levelling the shaking man with quite a sceptical look. “Why exactly is your son trying to kill you, again?”

The man turns his wide eyes to him with a sort of blank look, as though he didn’t even notice Dabi’s presence before. The question visibly catches him off guard, because he stutters, “Why—He—Well, he’s crazy! Who knows what he’s gotten into his head this time? He just got angry for no reason, he did. Shot me with his quirk too! That damned boy, after all I did for him, this is how he repays me?!”

Yeah, the man is absolutely a lying piece of shit. Dabi would know an awful father anywhere. They all use the same meaningless phrases, they all try to paint you as the worst child possible, and they all make themselves into victims. As far as Dabi is concerned, they should leave the guy to his fate. His son most likely has a good reason to want him dead anyway.

Endeavor, unfortunately, does not share Dabi’s sentiment. Is someone surprised anymore?

“Please, calm down. Your son will not be able to harm you, you have my word,” his father says solemnly, his voice filled with sympathy. That bastard. And then, as though he wasn’t already digging his grave, the man adds, pointedly, “I am afraid, as much as it pains me, that children rarely appreciate all that you do for them.”

“Don’t you fucking dare say shit like that,” Dabi barks, more than a little furious. With every moment that passes, he feels for that stranger’s son more and more. In fact, maybe they should team up. Murdering their fathers would serve as a great bonding activity. He might even get a friend out of this. “You know very well there’s nothing for us to be grateful for.”

Flinching almost unnoticeably, Endeavor grumbles something intelligible under his breath, but doesn’t argue. The man gives them a weird look, perhaps not having expected someone like Number Two Hero to be facing the exact same kind of issues that he does. He opens his mouth to say something, but is sharply interrupted by a roaring growl.

“You! You bastard!”

Startled, the man lets out a high-pitched squeak and darts behind Endeavor to hide. Endeavor blinks in surprise, but quickly composes himself and allows his flames to grow all over his arms and back as he crouches in expectation of an attack. Dabi tilts his head, observing the rapidly approaching figure with nothing more than pity, and lights a cigarette, still not bothering to even tighten his muscles. To him, at least, it’s pretty obvious the boy isn’t actually a threat to anyone other than his father, currently cowering behind a hero like a coward.

It’s quite a ridiculous scene, really. From what the man told them, Dabi has been expecting to see a large well-built young adult, seething with rage and flinging whatever quirk he has around without a care in the world. But the person shouting at them right now is nothing like that. The child – because it is a child, the boy can’t be more than sixteen, maybe seventeen – is lanky and short, with pale complexion still spotted with acne. His dark hair is in disarray from running, his eyes are bloodshot and his face flooded with tears. He’s clutching a crumpled piece of paper in his right hand, with something written on it in an extraordinarily beautiful handwriting.

There’s a burning hatred in the boy’s eyes, focused solely on his father, and Dabi has no doubts the kid could and would actually murder the man if given a chance. He’s seen this exact expression in a mirror enough times to recognize it. It’s just, the snot hanging under the boy’s nose and the dinosaur print on his t-shirt make it very hard to truly see him as dangerous.

Yes, it is indeed a ridiculous scene, Dabi concludes. An adult man hiding behind a guy in blue and yellow spandex from a clearly distraught teenage boy who looks as if a stronger breath of wind could easily break him in half. Rather pathetic, if you ask him. At least until a flash of years-old fury twists the boy’s face and his hands rise over his head, blue electricity sparking between them, ready to strike.

“Young man, cease this immediately,” Endeavor demands, no traces of sympathy left in him at all. Figures someone like that would only know how to empathize with the abuser, never the victim. “Otherwise, I will be forced to arrest you for unlicensed quirk usag—”

“Shut up! I don’t care!” the boy screams, his breathing heavy and uneven, tears streaming down his face without a pause. The electricity between his palms becomes louder, filling the air around them with static. “I’m going to kill him! I don’t care what happens to me, but I swear I’m going to kill him! He’s ruined my life and now she’s gone because of him! I hate him!”

“It’s not my fault she left!” the man protests hotly, his voice still indignant somehow despite his obvious fear. “She left because she was weak! If she just did what I asked of her—”

“Oh my god, just shut up,” Dabi cuts in, already more than fed up with this asshole, rolling his eyes. “If that’s how you usually treat your son, I’m not surprised he’s trying to kill you. Read the fucking room.”

Endeavor sighs, a sound fully conveying both the apprehension his father feels for whatever Dabi’s about to do and resignation because of the knowledge he can do nothing to stop him. Dakamura, naturally, gapes at him and the expression on his stupid face is so offended it almost makes Dabi laugh.

The boy falters slightly, a flash of puzzlement crossing his face, and, consciously or not, the electricity he’s holding weakens as well. His reddened eyes settle on Dabi with something akin to awe and it becomes quite clear this is no crazy murderer but simply a child begging for an ounce of understanding.

“Touya, please, do not interfere,” Endeavor tries, with so little conviction Dabi doesn’t even feel any glee from defying him.

“Why the hell not?” Dabi challenges, taking one last drag from his cigarette and throwing it carelessly to the ground as he takes a few lazy steps towards the boy. The smell of frizzing air hits him with all its unpleasantness but all he does is wrinkle his nose a little. “You clearly have no idea how to handle this. Knowing you, you would be happy to just throw this child in prison and call it a day.” Ignoring his father’s indignant spluttering, he turns to address the confused wannabe attacker. “You! What’s your name?”

Blinking, mouth agape, the boy takes a moment to collect himself before answering, voice hoarse from crying, “Noma.”

No last name, huh? Dabi can certainly relate. Honestly, he can relate to much more than that.

“Alright, Noma.” Face pleasant and neutral, he takes one step closer. Unconsciously, Noma steps back, still wary, but doesn’t move to attack. “You say you hate your father. Same here. And I’m sure, just like me, you have a good reason. Why don’t you tell us what happened?”

“Why would I do that?!” Noma barks, but his voice breaks in the middle and the flush that covers his cheeks immediately after takes the edge off of any anger. “It’s not like you hero types care! You will take his side no matter what I tell you.”

“How about I make you a deal then?” Dabi proposes, smiling at the boy with what he hopes is enough sharpness to convince him he’s telling the truth. “If you tell me your story and I decide your father really is a piece of shit,” he makes a meaningful pause, for the dramatic effect, “I will kill him myself.”

“Touya, this is not funny,” Endeavor intervenes, but Dabi doesn’t take his eyes off Noma. “I do not know what you are doing, but—”

“I want to hear what Noma has to say,” he says simply, voice hard. “After all, I know better than anyone what it’s like to have a shitty dad.”

This, more than anything, seems to shut Endeavor up.

Noma’s eyes dart between Dabi and his father, cogs visibly turning inside his head. A few emotions pass through his face one after the other in quick succession – first confusion, melting into shock and ending in something like understanding. The electricity dies as the boy’s body sags, leaving behind angry red Lichtenberg figures going down his arms and up his neck. The only sign of any discomfort he might feel though is a quiet gasp.

Endeavor seems to initially relax when the obvious danger appears to be over, even as Dakamura screams his protests in the background. Only, his father’s gaze focuses on the fern-like marks as well and as understanding blooms in his mind, his entire body stiffens. Dabi’s sure the obvious parallels are not lost on him.

“Fine,” Noma says reluctantly, his eyes still narrowed suspiciously but attitude significantly less hostile. “You want to know? I will tell you.”

“Noma, for god’s sake, stop this nonsense,” Dakamura demands, less cowed now that his son is not actively trying to kill him. He draws himself up as he emerges from behind Endeavor’s back, acting as though he wasn’t just hiding there. “There’s nothing to tell. Don’t listen to him, Endeavor. You’re a father, you must know how children like to exaggerate. He’s just trying to smear my name, god knows for what reason. Let me just take him home—”

Dakamura attempts to pass by Endeavor, suddenly all too eager to get closer to Noma despite his previous pants-shitting panic, when a massive flaming arm halts him in place. Endeavor’s face is now stony, gone are the traces of previous sympathy, replaced by cold calculation as he glares down at the pathetic man.

“Wait a moment, Mr. Dakamura,” his father says, in a voice heeding no arguments. “I also would like to hear what your son has to say.”

Now with two curious gazes and a lone thunderous one aimed solely at him, Noma stumbles over himself a bit, stuttering at first, his words unintelligible, as if not sure how to even start. Eventually though, he manages to compose himself, the steely determination from before hardening his features.

“This man is not my father,” is how Noma starts, spitting the words as though they’re covered in venom. “Never was and never will be. I’ve never felt an ounce of love from him – only pain and endless expectations. My entire life, all he’s ever done is tell me how much of a disappointment I was. How I was never going to amount to anything. Once, he even told me he wished I had never been born.” Noma laughs humourlessly. “For the longest time, I have wished for that too.”

“Come on now, you know I didn’t mean it—”

“Silence,” Endeavor hushes Dakamura, suddenly very pale.

Noma doesn’t even seem to be paying them any attention though. His eyes are burning now, both with hatred and unshed tears. “But I could live with that, you know? Yes, he yelled at me, yes, he hit me sometimes, yes, he made me study everything I didn’t want to study because I have to continue the family tradition and be a doctor.” The last word, he nearly spats, so filled it is with disgust. “I could have lived with that. I kept thinking to myself, once I’m eighteen I can leave and I never have to see him again. Just a few more years.”

Dabi finds himself nodding along, ignoring the weird stirring in his stomach. Endeavor makes deliberate effort not to even glance in his direction, the coward.

“You know why? Why I was fine with enduring all that, instead of getting out of there a long time ago?” He pauses, even though the question is clearly rhetorical. “My older sister. Misa. She was always so good to me. She tried to protect me as much as she could. Even though it was always worse for her anyway, because she’s a girl and that fact alone made her a disappointment. She couldn’t even be a doctor, no, he made her study to be a nurse. The only suitable position for girls, he said. I heard Misa cry herself to sleep too many times to count and yet, for me, she always had a smile. Even when she once again took a beating for me because of an offence our father couldn’t even recall himself.”

Dakamura’s face flushes deep red, his hands flaying around in rage. “He’s—he’s lying! I never raised a hand at any of my children!”

“Really?” Dabi asks dryly, raising an eyebrow. “Those bruises on your son’s wrists say something else.”

Immediately, both Dakamura’s and Endeavor’s eyes snap to Noma, searching for what Dabi noticed at a first glance – the unmistakable finger-shaped dark marks staining his pale skin. On instinct, Noma goes to hide them, a habit Dabi knows all too well. It doesn’t matter though. Everyone already saw.

“It wasn’t me!” the man protests still, getting more and more nervous. Dabi doesn’t miss the way his forehead is beginning to glisten with sweat. But, to be fair, it could also be from standing so close to Endeavor. “I have no idea when he got these bruises! Probably hanging around with some—some punks! He’s trying to make me look bad. Come on, Endeavor, you have to believe me. Do I look like someone who would mistreat his children? I love my children. It’s not my fault they are both so ungrateful—”

“Don’t you dare!” Noma screams, electricity once more igniting all over his body. This time, the strain it puts on him is way more obvious – gritted teeth, a poorly stifled grimace of pain, fists clenched tightly at his sides. A feint smell of cooked meat Dabi could recognize anywhere hits his nostrils, threatening to make him gag. “Don’t you dare say that! You know what you did to us! You made our entire lives hell! You—you—she—” Noma heaves, out of breath, tears streaming freely down his face. He almost breaks down, almost seems like he’s about to attack after all, and Dabi braces himself to respond in turn, even if he has no idea how to safely stop a fucking lightning, but, in the end, Noma just whispers softly, barely audible, “Misa is gone because of you. The only person I loved – the only person who loved me – is gone. Because of you.”

“She abandoned her family,” Dakamura growls. “She dishonoured our name. Honestly, Noma, we’re better off without her. If you could only see that—”

Electricity buzzing even more than before, Noma bares his teeth in an expression that is more feral animal than human. “Shut. Up!”

“What’s that in your hand?” Dabi intervenes swiftly, taking a step closer on instinct, hoping to distract Noma enough to calm him down again. As long as he doesn’t actually hurt anyone, this can still end peacefully. With Dakamura in jail, hopefully. Or at least far, far away from any children.

As if only noticing it now, Noma glances down at his own hand and frowns. The blue current surrounding his body – so blue, in fact, that if you squinted, the electricity could almost be mistaken for fire – does not falter this time, but otherwise the distraction seems to work and it’s all that matters.

“This?” Noma scoffs, voice bordering on hysterical. “It’s a letter. From Misa. Explaining why she left. I found it this morning.”

Still calmly, Dabi hums. “I assume it was the last straw?”

“Ha! You want to read it? Go ahead! I think you can still see the tear stains on it, if you look hard enough.”

Showing no sign of worry at approaching a clearly unstable powerful quirk user, Dabi walks over to Noma and gently takes the crumpled piece of paper from his trembling hands. Even though he understands – oh, how well he understands – he still finds himself unable not to voice his concern.

“Hey, I know you want to hurt him,” he says quietly, although in the silence of the street there’s no doubt the two men behind them can still hear everything. “But right now, you’re only hurting yourself. Trust me,” he adds with a wry smirk, “he’s not worth it.”

Leaving the boy stunned, Dabi turns around, not at all concerned about showing his back to the enemy. Endeavor frowns and opens his mouth, doubtlessly to spill some more of his bullshit that Dabi definitely doesn’t need to hear right now, but thankfully shuts it back when Dabi offers him the letter without sparing it a single glance.

After all, it’s not Dabi who needs to suffer through its contents. He’s already pretty convinced Dakamura is a piece of trash.

The letter is quite long, from what Dabi managed to see. It goes on for all two pages, written in a neat beautiful handwriting. There are, indeed, wet spots there that appear to be tear stains, but it’s hard to tell whether they’ve been left by Misa or Noma himself. Endeavor takes quite a while to read it in full, his expression darkening with every second spent staring at the black ink, his grip on the paper tightening.

“’I’m sorry, Noma’,” Endeavor reads suddenly, apparently having reached the end. “’I never meant to hurt you. I know I’m leaving you alone with him and I can’t express how awful I feel because of it, but I just can’t do it anymore. I can’t spend one more second in this house. There’s a pack of pills in my room, did you know? For weeks now, I’ve been spending my nights looking at you while you slept, just to convince myself I shouldn’t take them and end it all. I hate him so much. I thought I loved you more than I hated him, but now I think I just love me more. And I can’t do this anymore. I’m really sorry, Noma. I hope we will meet again, someday. I hope you can forgive me. I really do love you. I'm sorry it wasn’t enough. Stay strong. Yours, Misa.’”

By the time Endeavor finishes, Noma is full on crying again. He tries to hide it, tries to stifle the hiccups and furiously wipes away the tears but they just keep coming. Dakamura is pale, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. He gulps when Endeavor’s sharp gaze lands on him like a light of judgement.

“This does not sound well for you.”

“It’s just—it’s just some ramblings of an overdramatic teenager,” Dakamura attempts to dismiss them, even as his voice trembles. “Who hasn’t tried to run away from home at least once? Misa will be back in a week, at the latest. I’m sure of it! There’s really nothing to be so worried about!”

“Fucking hell, you really don’t know when to shut up, do you?” Dabi huffs in annoyance, rolling his eyes. “I’m really starting to consider just letting Noma kill you like he wanted. God knows you would deserve it.”

Or maybe, Dabi should just kill the guy himself. Sure, electricity is nice, but in the end, there’s nothing like some good old burning to get rid of an abusive asshole. It takes longer, for one. They probably scream prettier too.

“Nobody is killing anyone,” Endeavor decides to ruin Dabi’s fun, his voice leaving no room for argument. Dabi decides to entertain his other plan for a moment, the one in which he and Noma join forces and murder their fathers together, but, as though reading his mind, Endeavor continues with, “I have seen enough. Mr. Dakamura. I would like you to go with me. Touya, you bring the boy over to my agency. We will have it sorted out quickly.”

What exactly his father means by ‘have it sorted out’ is unclear, although Dabi vows to make sure it at least includes getting Noma away, if not outright putting Dakamura in prison. Dakamura puts up a fight, of course, but his protests and even an occasional insult don’t seem to impress Endeavor much. Eventually, the man is forcefully dragged away, still babbling some nonsense, leaving Dabi alone with a somewhat bemused Noma. An amused smirk blooms on Dabi’s face when he notices the boy subtly pinching himself and trying to hide a small wince.

“Feels weird, huh?” he says, causing Noma to jump and stare at him numbly, looking not unlike a deer caught in the headlights. Clarifyingly, Dabi adds, still smiling, “Someone believing you. Doing something about it. Believe me, I know.”

“I—” Noma stumbles, his body trembling as the adrenaline slowly starts to bleed out. “I didn’t think—I tried to tell people before.”

Dabi hums. “I’m guessing it didn’t go well?”

The boy shakes his head, still in a daze. He kind of looks like he wants to pinch himself again.

“Well, it’s your lucky day, then. Maybe you didn’t get to murder your crappy dad – which sucks, I know – but at least you’re getting away now. Hopefully, him spending the rest of his life rotting in prison is just as satisfying.”

“You really think so?” Noma asks, doubt pulling his eyebrows together. “Him going to prison, I mean. You really think it will happen?”

“It better,” Dabi replies and although the threat in his tone is not meant for him, Noma shivers anyway. “I will make sure he does. Filth like him don’t deserve anything else.”

He knows Noma wants to say more – something about Dabi’s relationship with his father, about the rather unambiguous remarks he made and maybe a lot of other things too – but he keeps quiet on their way to the agency, both of them lost in their own heads. There’s a spark of hope in the boy’s eyes now, tentative but bright, and rising with every street that separates them from that sterile neighbourhood, contrasting starkly against the still visible red marks coiling around his arms. He’s been through much more than anyone his age should, but Dabi thinks he will be fine. People can get back from a lot, after all.

It's hard not to think about the parallels between them though. And about how, despite all their similarities, it’s only Noma’s father that is going to jail – while Dabi’s is still, despite everything, the one with the authority to put him there. 

Chapter Text

After Endeavor hands the pitiful excuse of a human being that is Dakamura to the authorities, the rest of their ‘take your kid to work’ day goes on without a hitch, with only a few minor encounters with criminals so pathetic calling them villains would be an insult to actual villains. During all of that, Dabi continues to be as annoying as humanly possible, but the results aren’t particularly entertaining – ever since the whole incident, Endeavor has been unusually quiet, barely reacting to any of Dabi’s creative taunts. If Dabi didn’t know any better, he would assume his father has gone into shock.

“Fucking finally,” Dabi exhales as he lets himself drop onto the decorative couch in the lobby of Endeavor’s agency once they eventually come back. Burnin’, the delightful side-kick, sends him a dirty look. “I was starting to think this day would never end.”

“You’ve only been patrolling for five hours,” Burnin’ deadpans, obviously unimpressed. “That’s nothing for regular hero work. You should know that if you’re in the hero course.”

Dabi snorts. “Yeah, but the problem isn’t that it’s been five hours. The problem is that I had to spend those five hours with him.”

He points dismissively at his father, to which Burnin’ frowns, ready to defend her boss – Dabi wonders if Endeavor blackmails them too or if they’re actually this blindly devoted – but hesitates when she notices that Endeavor has absolutely zero reaction to the statement. When before he would be grimacing or sighing, irritated but trying to reign it in, if only for appearances sake, now he doesn’t even appear to be paying them any attention. His eyes are far-away, his expression completely blank.

Maybe he is in shock, after all. Someone should probably take him to the doctor. Perhaps Burnin’ might. Unlike Dabi, at least she’s paid to give a shit about his useless ass.

“I’m going to finish off the paperwork for today,” Endeavor announces, his voice absent-minded and distant. “It shouldn’t take long. After I’m done, we can go home.”

At this, Burnin’ seems startled. “Home? Already?”

Endeavor finally snaps back to reality, if only a little bit, his expression twisting into a frown. “Is it a problem? There haven’t been any major problems today, have there?”

“Well, no,” the woman replies slowly, obviously thrown-off, “it’s just unusual for you to leave so early, is all. Usually, we have to drag you out. But it’s fine, you can leave everything to us, we will take care of things. It’s been a slow day anyway.”

Endeavor simply nods, already turning around towards the elevators. His back is hunched, almost unnoticeably to anyone else, but glaringly obvious to Dabi, and there isn’t a single spark of fire anywhere on his body, despite him still wearing his hero costume.

“Do I have to stay here?” Dabi shouts after him, unable to find it in himself to grant the man any pity. So what if seeing a reflection of himself in some asshole left him a little shaken? This guilt, this shame – if that’s even what the man is feeling – are all entirely deserved. “I can find my own way home, you know. I’ve got better things to do than hang around your boring side-kicks.”

Catching up with his miraculously reappeared boyfriend, for example. Preferably in his bedroom. With the door closed and locked.

Burnin’ doesn’t bother glaring at him again, even after that comment. Instead, she rolls her eyes, mutters something under her breath about ‘spoiled brats’ and marches away.

“I would prefer it if you waited for me,” is Endeavor’s stilted response. He doesn’t even turn around to face him, the coward.

Dabi rolls his eyes. “Yes, but do I have to?”

Endeavor sighs, his massive frame sagging even more. “No, Touya, you don’t have to. I’m not going to force you. I probably couldn’t even if I wanted to.” There’s a hint of some dark amusement there at that. Or maybe it’s just bitterness. “But, I would appreciate it if you stayed. I think there are still certain matters we should discuss.”

Dabi doesn’t answer immediately. He watches his father’s broad back and finds it to be unusually stiff – as though bracing for a blow. Endeavor is right, of course. He can’t force Dabi to listen to him. It would be oh so easy to call his driver or catch a train back, to ignore the man’s request, not even because he doesn’t want to have this mysterious talk but simply because he can.  

It’s obvious the stone is in Dabi’s hand. The question remains whether he’s going to throw it at the man or not.           

“You have thirty minutes,” he finally says, already fishing his phone out of his pocket. Seems like it’s Candy Crush time. “Any longer than that and I’m gone.”

Endeavor nods, still not brave enough to meet his eyes. “That’s acceptable.” Then, after a short moment of hesitation, “Please, at least attempt to behave while I’m gone.”

“Twenty-nine minutes,” Dabi sing-songs, stretching his fingers in preparation for the fun activity of murdering row after row of colourful jellies.

Endeavor doesn’t linger much longer after that.

***

FROM: chicken nugget <3333

i figured out the password

it was ur birthday btw

apparently mini me was a romantic

not very concerned with digital safety tho

how u doing?? i hope it’s not too awful

try not to murder ur dad

i can’t kiss u if ur in jail

TO: chicken nugget <3333

 it’s fine

mostly boring

there was a situation i think endeavor’s in shock

im chilling in his lobby rn

are you still at my house?

FROM: chicken nugget <3333

yes!! we’re playing monopoly

ur sister is ruthless

i think im about to go bankrupt actually

oh and ur mum is super scary

also she keeps sending me weird looks?? what did i do??

TO: chicken nugget <3333

you’re playing monopoly???

rip

that little brat always cheats you never stood a chance

also yes my mum is scary do not mess with her

also she knows so she probably suspects what happened

FROM: chicken nugget <3333

oh yeah that would explain it

should i talk to her or sth??

 TO: chicken nugget <3333

nah i will talk to her when i get back

you just enjoy urself for now

don’t let them terrorize u  

TO: chicken nugget <3333

too late 😖 😖

natsuo seems really fun tho

shouto too

wait wdym what situation

TO: chicken nugget <3333

ah don’t worry your pretty little head about it

it wasn’t anything serious

i will tell you later

FROM: chicken nugget <3333

oooh u think im pretty? ;))))

also fuyumi says to tell she doesn’t cheat ur just a sore loser

and that ur a hypocrite since u always cheat too

her words not mine

TO: chicken nugget <3333

yeah pretty dumb

and i don’t cheat

FROM: chicken nugget <3333

as your boyfriend i sure hope not

but i mean u didn’t even snog mini me

so i would say im probably safe

TO: chicken nugget <3333

not for long if u don’t stop annoying me..... 🔥🔥

FROM: chicken nugget <3333

ah the death threats <3

i missed them

missed you

TO: chicken nugget <3333

....missed you too

i should be back soon

wait for me?

FROM: chicken nugget <3333

always <3

Dabi smiles down at the screen for exactly three seconds before he realizes how disgustingly sappy he’s being and instantly kills the expression. He’s a villain, for fuck’s sake. Villains don’t grin at their phones like smitten teenagers, no matter how mushy their boyfriends are making their insides feel.

He glances at the clock, which reveals he’s already been waiting for 26 minutes. His foot has begun to tap against the floor impatiently after about ten, so he’s had it draped over the backseat of the couch ever since, to the disapproval of basically everyone in the agency. Fortunately for him and unfortunately for them, nobody except for Burnin’ has enough guts to scold him about it and she’s given up after the third attempt.

There are a few messages from Jin waiting for him as well, telling him about his day and about how one person already called him back about a job, and about how fun this new show he discovered has been so far. Dabi quickly formulates some appropriate replies, vaguely describing his own day, congratulating the man on the possible job and warning him not to get too attached to any of the characters if he doesn’t want to spend too much money on tissues.

He's just about to check with Aizawa about Himiko and their upcoming internship, when the ding of the arriving elevator alerts him to his father’s return.   

“I’m done,” the man announces as soon as he’s in Dabi’s hearing range, already dressed into his civilian clothes, which makes Dabi scowl at him, because now he’s the only one still wearing the ridiculous hero costume. “We can leave now.”

“Finally,” Dabi drawls, making a show of undraping himself from the uncomfortable couch, stretching his muscles and popping a few joints. “I’m starving.”

“You wouldn’t be, if you hadn’t abandoned your breakfast for that boy,” Endeavor comments snidely under his breath but Dabi graciously decides to ignore him.  

“I’m thinking Indian,” he continues as though his father hasn’t said anything, directing his steps towards the exit without waiting for the man, forcing him to rush to catch up. “I haven’t had curry in a while and Keigo will eat anything that has chicken in it. There’s this nice place downtown, I think they do deliveries.”

He’s expecting some resistance – Endeavor is a lot of things but amenable is not one of them – but, to his surprise, the man simply nods.

“That’s acceptable. Text your mother to place the order.”

Dabi blinks, caught off guard. It’s almost suspicious, the way he agrees so easily. Still, he takes out his phone to message Rei, typing out his elaborate order – he truly is hungry, okay, carrying groceries for old ladies is fucking tiring – and only hesitates moments before he’s about to click the send button.

The idea alone is stupid, he knows. He’s never cared about being the bigger person before, he certainly isn’t about to start now. But something about Endeavor’s hunched posture, something about his pitiful silence... It’s making Dabi feel strange, wrong-footed.

“...do you want something?” he forces himself to ask, grimacing even as the words leave his mouth. He’s reminded of all the times he’s made fun of Endeavor for struggling to express some nice sentiments towards them and does not appreciate the irony.

Even Endeavor himself appears startled to have been asked, which really only makes Dabi regret opening his mouth more. He should have let the man starve.

“I don’t have any particular preference,” his father replies eventually, his expression unreadable and his eyes boring into Dabi with an unnerving intensity. “Let your mother choose for me.”

Dabi simply shrugs, relaying the message and finally clicking send. It’s Endeavor’s funeral. With Rei’s recent rebellious streak, he wouldn’t be surprised if his father ends up with the spiciest, most mouth-destroying dish on the restaurant’s menu. He hopes she thinks ahead and hides all of their milk.

They continue the walk to the car in awkward silence, with Endeavor visibly anxious to say something but unsure how and Dabi praying that he never finds the words so they can skip whatever bullshit conversation his father has in mind and get straight to eating. Luck, as always, is not on his side though, and so Endeavor clears his throat pointedly only a few minutes into their drive home.

“That man... Dakamura,” he starts, sounding suspiciously chocked up. “I made sure his son would be taken away from him.”

“Okay,” is all Dabi says, instead focused on exchanging more meaningless texts with Hawks.

Endeavor frowns. “Are you not happy?”

“For you doing the bare minimum?” Dabi scoffs, astounded by his father’s audacity. “Sure, I’m happy. I would have been happier if you joined him in whatever cell he’s going to be rotting in though.”

Unsurprisingly, Endeavor doesn’t have a response to this. His grip on the steering wheel tightens yet again, but this time it seems to be less from anger and more from something resembling nerves. Other than his rigid posture, it’s the only obvious sign of any apprehension the man allows himself to show.  

They drive in silence for another few minutes before his father gathers enough courage to speak again.

“Touya... have you ever...”

“What?” Dabi snaps after the sentence is left incomplete for long enough that he’s pretty sure the man isn’t going to finish it.

“Have you ever considered... what that girl wrote about in her letter?”

“You need to be more specific,” Dabi replies, although he has a good idea what his father is referring to. “She had a lot to say.”

Eyes never leaving the road in front of him, Endeavor grunts, looking extremely uncomfortable. That makes two of them, Dabi thinks to himself wryly. There’s no way he’s going to make it any easier for the bastard though. If he really wants to know, he’s going to have to man up (gn) and actually say the words.

“I meant the part about... the pills,” he manages to say eventually, expression twisted in a caricature of concern. “Have you ever... have you ever considered ending your life... because of me?”

Ah, there it is. The million dollar question.

“No,” he says, unsure whether he’s lying or not. He definitely considered ending Endeavor’s life in the future and his was kind of a necessary sacrifice to achieve that, but he doesn’t think he was ever actively suicidal as a kid. Admittedly, he didn’t really want to live most of the time, but actually killing himself would mean leaving his family behind and he would never do that willingly. “Don’t flatter yourself. You’re not worth it.”

“Good,” the man says awkwardly after a few moments of tense silence. “That’s... that’s good.”

“Don’t pretend like you’d care,” Dabi snorts without humour.

There has been a time, after all, even if this Endeavor can’t remember it, when Dabi’s life was almost ended because of him. It didn’t look like his father gave much of a fuck then, so why would he start now?

“Of course I would care,” the man insists, eyebrows scrunching into a deep frown. It’s almost like he’s offended, which would be funny if it wasn’t so hypocritical. “How can you say that? I... I know I haven’t been the best father to you, but surely you can’t actually believe I wouldn’t care if you died? Especially if I was part of a reason for it?”

“Whatever,” Dabi mumbles dismissively, done with this particular conversation. It doesn’t matter anyway, he reasons, since he’s not planning on dying anytime soon. “Just get me home before I starve.”

Endeavor doesn’t say anything else, but he does drive significantly faster, which is really all Dabi could ask for.

***

The sight that greets him as he walks into the living room is, to say the least, bizarre.

Rei, Fuyumi, Natsu, and Hawks are all sitting on the floor in a circle, apparently engrossed in some card game, with various half-empty packets of snacks scattered around them carelessly. Each of them also has a picture stuck to their foreheads, either a forgotten remnant of some previous activity or a strange ongoing addition to whatever they’re doing with the cards. There’s annoyingly cheerful K-pop blasting from the TV speakers, a song Dabi recognizes as one of Hawks’ secret favourites. Everyone seems to be enjoying themselves, laughing and making funny faces.

Oh, and Shouto seems to be levitating over them, spun around in circles by Hawks’ red feathers. That’s also a thing, apparently.

“What the—!” Endeavor growls, already on his way to an angry outburst, but cuts himself off and exhales sharply instead to calm himself down. Voice more even, he repeats, although still loudly enough to be heard over the music, “What’s going on here?”

Everyone’s heads turn to them, with various expressions of surprise and apprehension. Fuyumi seems to be expecting to get scolded, with Rei also tensing slightly next to her, although her chin is raised in obvious challenge. Natsuo is eyeing their father warily, but other than that remains relaxed. Hawks offers Dabi a sheepish smile and a small wave, ignoring Endeavor entirely.

Shouto is the only one who doesn’t appear worried or cautious in any way, instead lighting up considerably as he notices their arrival.

“Touya, look!” he exclaims, significantly more animated than he usually allows. “I’m flying!”

He is, indeed, flying, arms spread out wide in an imitation of wings with only a few feathers keeping him from painfully kissing the floor. Dabi is honestly shocked their mother agreed to this in the first place, seeing as he is close to getting a heart attack just from watching the spectacle for less than two minutes and he knows how terrifyingly skilled Hawks is with his quirk.

“I can see that.” He takes a few steps forward. As though reading his mind, Hawks directs the feathers so they bring Shouto basically right in front of his face. “Why are you flying?”

“’Cause it’s fun,” he says as though it should have been obvious. Maybe it should have been.

“He said cards were boring,” Hawks adds helpfully, even as his gaze remains fixed on the cards in his hand. Natsuo is, not very subtly, trying to take a peek over his shoulder, but almost gets smacked in the face by a wing for his efforts. “Fuyumi, you got any fours?”

“Go fish,” Fuyumi replies, smirking smugly, to which Hawks groans but dutifully grabs one of the cards from the large pile in the middle of their circle. “Natsu, do you have any nines?”

“How do you do that?!” his brother grumbles, glaring at Fuyumi as he hands her three of his cards.

“Luck,” is their sister’s self-satisfied reply. “And skill.”

Natsuo huffs. “That’s not how you pronounce cheating.”

Fuyumi’s face sours immediately as she bristles, “I’m not cheating!”

“Yes, you are!”

“Am not!”

“Are too!”

“Am not!”

“Cheater!”

“Loser!”

“Dirty cheating cheater!”

“You—!”

Before the two can engage in an actual physical fight though – and Dabi really hoped it would happen, if only so he can cheer them both on – their squabbling is rudely interrupted by everyone’s favourite party-pooper.

“I asked what is going on here,” Endeavor repeats, more forcefully, his eyes narrowed and lips pursed, displeasure at being ignored obvious in his tone.  

“We’re playing cards,” Rei explains calmly, the only sign of anxiety being her hands clenched into fists around the edges of her cardigan. “You’re free to join us, the food is probably still going to take a while to get here.”

Somehow, this does not seem to satisfy their father. “And what is he still doing here?” he demands, glaring pointedly at Hawks.

Hawks, to his credit, is not cowed by the hostility, instead glaring back with so much raw hatred that it seems to catch Endeavor off guard. Looks like the revelations from this morning are still affecting his boyfriend quite heavily. Dabi can’t help but feel a little smug about it. What’s this saying again? Never meet your heroes? Well, in this case, never date your heroes’ sons if you don’t want to find out your heroes are actually abusive assholes, but you get the point.

“He’s waiting for me,” Dabi says, pinning his father down with a challenging look. “You know, since you didn’t let us finish the project earlier. You don’t want me to fail another class, do you?”

Backed into a corner, Endeavor huffs and quickly changes tactics. “Even so, he shouldn’t be using his quirk so carelessly. It’s dangerous. What if Shouto falls and gets hurt? Get him down, now.”

“Nooo, I like flying!” Shouto protests, even as the feathers gently begin to lower him back to the ground.

“Since when do you care about Shouto getting hurt?” Dabi snorts and it’s not a nice sound. He pretends he wasn’t worried about the same thing just a moment ago. “Didn’t seem to matter when you left him all bruised and crying after your ‘training sessions’.”

“Touya,” Rei chastises him softly, but he still thinks it was worth it to shut the asshole up. He simply shrugs, raising his hands in surrender, and goes over to Hawks to plop down next to him. Deciding him properly dealt with, Rei turns back to her husband. “I assure you, we had everything under control. Keigo’s command of his quirk is ridiculously impressive. Shouto was never in any danger. We were just having fun.”

Hawks instinctively preens under the praise, although he attempts to hide it. Dabi smirks at him anyway, making his boyfriend roll his eyes fondly. Endeavor grimaces at their behaviour, but it’s not like anyone gives a fuck about the man’s opinion. Just to be a menace, Dabi puts his head on his boyfriend’s shoulder and snuggles closer.

Averting his gaze with badly concealed disgust, Endeavor releases a sigh of defeat. “I suppose it’s alright then,” he says, but his expression remains sour. “I... I did not mean to ruin your fun. I was simply expressing my concern.”

“Sure you were,” Dabi mumbles sarcastically into Hawks’ neck, causing the other boy to chuckle.

Fortunately, before any more arguments can begin, the doorbell interrupts them, swiftly followed by a muffled sound of knocking.

“Seems like our dinner is here.” Rei stands up, brushes off imaginary dust from her pants, and gives them a weak smile before directing her steps towards the door. “Set the table, please!”

The moment she’s gone and they’re out of her view, Dabi, Fuyumi, and Natsuo all rush to glare at each other and simultaneously yell:

“Not me!”

It’s unclear who was the slowest, however, and so they all direct their heated gazes at poor, confused Hawks.

“Well? Who was last?” Natsuo demands, his expression screaming that the answer better not be him.

“Uhm,” Hawks gulps, wide-eyed and a little intimidated by the sudden responsibility.

“Choose your words carefully,” Dabi says, his tone dark with an unspoken threat.

“Come on, Keigo,” Fuyumi adds, her lips smiling but her eyes very much not. “You don’t want your future sister-in-law on your bad side, do you?”

“His future what?” Endeavor splutters, but nobody pays him any mind.

Natsuo narrows his eyes. “I can and will make sure you and Touya are never alone together in this house if you say me.”

“There won’t be anything to do alone in this house if you say me,” Dabi purrs dangerously, deliberately letting his breath caress the side of his boyfriend’s neck, making him shiver. “Do not test me.”

“I—” poor Hawks croaks, gaze darting to each of them in turn with increasing panic. “I don’t—”

Luckily for the struggling boy, he does not get a chance to finish, because that’s exactly when Rei reappears, a massive stack of take-out boxes balancing unsteadily in her grasp. She takes one look at them, still sitting on the floor and not setting the table like she asked, and purses her lips in disappointment.

“I asked you something, didn’t I?” They all avert their eyes guiltily, to which she sighs and turns to her husband instead. “Enji, help me with this, would you?”

“Of course.”

Once their parents disappear into the dining room, the three siblings are immediately back to giving each other dirty looks.

“It’s your fault,” Fuyumi accuses, folding her arms across her chest.

“My fault?” Dabi’s eyebrows shoot up incredulously. “You were the slowest! You should have done it!”

“I was not! Natsu was last!”

“No way!” Natsuo glowers at her. “Tell her, Keigo!”

Fuyumi points a threatening finger at him. “Leave him out of this, he’s going to take Touya’s side anyway.”

“Yeah and he would be right, since I was first!” Dabi insists, half-way to baring his teeth at her. “You were last and you should have done it.”

“Oh, so since I’m a girl I should have set the table, hm? Now you’re just being sexist.”

“What—?” Dabi splutters, and when Hawks laughs at him, he pokes him between ribs in revenge, eliciting a delightful squeak. “I did not say that. Don’t put words into my mouth.”

“I bet you would like Keigo to put something into your mouth though,” Natsuo snickers, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Which. Ew.

Similarly grossed out, although most likely for a very different reason, Fuyumi shivers dramatically. “Shut up, don’t put that image into my head. Why would you even say that? You’re eleven!”

“Seriously, what the fuck, Natsu. You’re a baby. You can’t just say that.”

“What’s Keigo going to be putting into Touya’s mouth?” suddenly asks Shouto, whose presence has been forgotten for the last few minutes.

They all freeze, exchanging panicked glances, before Dabi decides to save them.

“Well, the food, of course.” He offers his little brother the most innocent smile he can muster. “Speaking of which, we should probably join them before mum decides to eat everything by herself.”

Compelled by the promise of food, they don’t waste any more time arguing, quickly standing up and making their way over to the dining room.  

“Nice save,” Hawks whispers into his ear with a shit-eating grin.

Dabi pushes him away with an eyeroll, trying to stifle the fond smile that is fighting its way onto his lips.

“Shut up.”

As they arrive, they’re greeted by the sight of Rei moving the food out of the boxes onto regular plates while Endeavor is busy clumsily putting the prepared dishes onto the table that’s already been covered with a decorative tablecloth. The aroma of spicy Indian delicacies is filling the air, causing Dabi’s mouth to water.

They take their usual places, with Dabi dragging Hawks along so they can be next to each other, unwilling to part again so soon after finally being reunited. Hawks smiles at him indulgently, but the way he keeps brushing his shoulder against his makes it clear he’s just as desperate to be together as Dabi.

“Keigo, dear, do you need a fork again?” Rei asks out of the blue as she scavenges through the fridge in search of appropriate drinks. Her tone is light, like she’s genuinely trying to be accommodating. Perfectly innocent – too innocent.

Despite his suspicions, Dabi laughs anyway, having completely forgotten about that little prank, and the adorably lost expression on his boyfriend’s face does not aid him in his efforts to calm down.

“Um,” the boy stutters, again put on the spot with everyone’s gazes on him. “No?”

Putting the pitcher filled with orange juice in the middle of the table, Rei frowns lightly, even as her eyes twinkle mischievously, “It’s alright if you need it, dear. There’s nothing to be ashamed about. You’re our guest, we want you to feel comfortable.”

Endeavor grumbles something intelligible but definitely disdainful under his breath, clearly disagreeing with his wife’s assurances. To his credit though – as little as he deserves it – he restrains himself from voicing any of his undoubtedly offensive opinions.  

“Um, thank you?” Hawks offers her an uncertain smile. “But I don’t—”

“It was a joke,” Dabi cuts him off, taking mercy on the increasingly bewildered boy. “We were just fucking with you last time. He knows how to use chopsticks.”

Hawks shoots him a judgemental look at hearing that, but seeing as it was his younger self who went along with it, the high horse seems somewhat hypocritical. Dabi is, of course, not fazed by his boyfriend’s exasperation, nor is he very concerned about the overall reaction to this news from the rest of his family. They may not appreciate his sense of humour, but he will maintain that it was exceptionally funny at the moment and therefore absolutely worth it.

There’s a flicker of a smug smirk on his mother’s lips coupled with the subtlest nod to herself, as though pleased to have confirmed something. It’s gone as quickly as it appeared, swiftly replaced by a familiar expression of gentle disapproval.

“Touya, what did I say about language? Please, don’t curse in front of your siblings.”

“Sorry,” he says, even if they both know he’s not going to stop.

“And don’t rope poor Keigo into your mischief,” she adds, staring at him semi-sternly, and when he opens his mouth to defend himself, she promptly cuts him off, “Nuh uh, don’t even try, I know it must have been your idea.”

Left with nothing to do but smile at her sheepishly, Dabi raises his hands in surrender, “Sure, sure, I won’t. But admit it, it was a little funny.”   

Rei’s glance unconsciously travels to Endeavor, a flash of something fragile twisting her face for a moment, almost like fear but not quite, and suddenly Dabi is reminded that perhaps he’s the only one finding their father’s rage amusing. Guilt threatens to sour his smile, an apology, this time a genuine one, already on the tip on his tongue, when suddenly, there’s a characteristic ping of an incoming message coming from Rei’s pocket.

Even the woman herself appears startled by this, evidenced by the slight widening of her eyes, but she makes quick work of fishing her phone out to check it. Dabi observes with fascination as her posture relaxes almost instantly at seeing the message, the previous nervousness replaced by something much calmer. It lasts only the shortest of moment, a blink-and-you-miss-it kind of thing, but as she reads whatever it is someone sent her, a fond smile blooms on her lips. It’s gone before anyone can fully register it and she pockets the phone back without responding after a few moments of simply starting at it, but this small disruption somehow turns her attitude around completely. This time, when she glances up at Endeavor, there is no fear or apprehension. Instead, his mother has her head held up high, with a barely there pink blush to her cheeks and a corner of her mouth curved up just the slightest bit.

Confidence suits her, Dabi decides, even if, at this point, it’s still probably a fake-it-till-you-make-it kind of boldness.

“I guess it was a little funny,” she admits eventually, taking her seat on the opposite side of the table, and although she keeps her face fairly neutral, Dabi is sure he doesn’t imagine the rebellious upturn of her mouth. “However—”    

“Now, don’t tell me you approve of this sort of childish tomfoolery,” Endeavor interrupts her rudely, his eyebrows furrowed in obvious disapproval. “I would expect it of Touya, with how immature he is, but you should know better than to encourage his antics.”

Poof, just a few words and all of Rei’s easy-going attitude is snuffed out in an instant. But she does not melt back into an anxious, obedient housewife. Quite the opposite. The stare with which she bestows her husband is so cold it would make even the bravest of men shiver.

“You might not have noticed, Enji, but Touya is, indeed, still a child.” Her tone is sharp, her presence unusually commanding. The temperature around the table drops significantly, with the edges of the table right in front of her slowly frosting over. “I would say being a little immature sometimes is his right. Especially if it’s something as harmless as this. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Pinned under the intensity of her piercing gaze, combined with the shocking display of authority, Endeavor is left with no other option than to avert his eyes and grit his teeth to stop himself from barking something nasty that would definitely not help his whole ‘redemption’ case. “...I suppose.”

Satisfied, Rei goes back to eating, as though nothing out of ordinary has happened. Dabi kind of feels like clapping, but he’s not sure it would be appropriate.

“Like I said,” Hawks whispers, clearly in awe, leaning over so only Dabi can hear him, “scary.”

His siblings, save for Shouto who’s busy poking his food with his chopsticks and watching with fascination as it bounces, seem similarly gobsmacked. Natsuo’s mouth is hanging slightly open, presenting them all with a full view of his half-chewed meal. Fuyumi is blinking, frozen with her hand around her glass, back tense as though waiting for the inevitable outburst that doesn’t come.

Endeavor’s head is hung low, his shoulders hunched over, eyes fixed on his plate like it’s the most interesting thing he’s ever seen. And if he’s stabbing his food with his beloved chopsticks a little too hard, well, it’s his own fault for being a dick and earning himself a scolding. Really, it’s about time the man learned actions have consequences.

“So, Keigo,” Rei opens after finishing another bite, smiling amiably at Dabi’s boyfriend, “I heard you’re doing your internship with my husband.”

Hawks blinks at her dumbly at first, that is until Dabi kicks him in the shin under the table, causing the boy to yelp and send him a heated glare. Dabi only tilts his head innocently, like a menace he is.

“Uhm, yes?” Talking in questions today, are we? Dabi rolls his eyes – inwardly – and kicks his boyfriend again. “I mean, yes! Yes, I’m definitely doing my internship with Endeavor. The internship I totally knew about and consciously agreed to.”

Dabi resist an urge to facepalm.

“That’s... an interesting choice,” Rei continues, her eyes darting to Endeavor, who is pretending with all his might that he’s not here. “Your quirk is not exactly... compatible with Enji’s, is it?”

Contradicting everyone’s expectations, Hawks actually brightens up at the question.

“Oh, you would think so, but actually, we fight quite efficiently together!”

This, of course, causes some raised eyebrows – Dabi really should have known Hawks would make just as shitty of a time traveller as him – which his boyfriend doesn’t pick up on initially. Dabi takes a lot of pleasure in kicking him again.

“I mean! I think we would! Haha! Obviously, I have no way of knowing for sure. Because I’ve never worked with him before. Obviously.”

“You’re hopeless,” Dabi mutters under his breath, pinching the bridge of his nose, a part of him seriously considering shutting his idiot up with his mouth. At worst, they would need to buy yet another table. It would be worth it, if only to spare himself the headache.

There’s a shift in Rei’s expression, a more obvious amusement. Fuck, she definitely knows. She cocks an eyebrow at him, shooting him a conspiratorial smile, and all he can do in response is shrug hopelessly, trying to silently convey the sentiment of he might be an idiot but he’s my idiot to her.   

“Let’s be real, we all know Keigo didn’t choose dad for his skill as a hero,” Natsuo snickers, once again wiggling his eyebrows at them. Fuyumi nods in agreement. Shouto abandons his cutlery, grabs a fistful of his abused dinner and shoves it down his throat like an animal.  

Endeavor makes a gagging sound but, as has become tradition, everyone ignores him.

“Well, I think it’s only natural he wants to spend more time with Touya,” Rei reasons.

“I admire you, Keigo,” Fuyumi deadpans, smiling sweetly. “I can’t imagine willingly wanting to spend more time with this dumbass.”

At that, Shouto finally looks up from his plate, twisting his stained face into a frown. “But yesterday you said you wished Touya would hang out with us more—”

“Shut up, Shou!” she hisses, immediately flushing in embarrassment. “I never said that!”

Dabi snorts, because he needs to keep up appearances, but makes a note in his head to take her out somewhere soon, for some quality brother-sister bonding time. Just maybe not for ice cream, that doesn’t usually go well for him for some reason.  

“Actually,” he says after clearing his throat, dramatic pause and all, “I’m not doing my internship with Keigo.”

This, more than anything, seems to take everyone by surprise. Dabi can’t imagine why. Sure, he never really told anyone who he’s planning on doing his internship with, but did they truly think he would willingly subject himself to spending more time with Endeavor than he already needs to?

“What?” Rei questions, furrowing her eyebrows. “You’re not interning with your father?”

Dabi shoots her an appropriately incredulous look. “Why would I?”

His – very reasonable, in his opinion – question is met with uncomfortable silence. He’s sure there are a lot of obvious answers they could give: that his father is the Number Two Hero, so having him on his resume would be useful, especially since Endeavor almost never accepts interns, that it could be beneficial to learn from other fire users, sidekicks if not Endeavor himself, and, of course, the most obvious one – that they didn’t think anyone else made him an offer. But the last one would be rude and they’re probably aware he doesn’t give a shit about the other two, so they’re left with nothing else to say.

“I suppose I just assumed...” Rei’s glance darts to Endeavor, who’s still busy sulking and trying his best to tune out their conversation. “Well, who are you interning with then?”

“Eraserhead,” he says, and when did it start feeling weird to refer to him like that? He’s choosing to believe it’s because Aizawa rolls off the tongue much easier, not for any silly sentimental reasons. “He’s an underground hero, you probably wouldn’t have heard about him.”

Rei tilts her head slightly, clearly not recognizing the name and unsure how she feels about it. Fuyumi and Shouto don’t seem to care much, Hawks is pouting about being ‘cruelly abandoned’, and Endeavor looks like he’s had a whole lemon shoved down his throat. Surprisingly though, Natsuo lights up.

“Oh! I know him!”

Dabi cocks an eyebrow. “You do?”

“Obviously,” his brother huffs, appearing almost offended. Hurriedly, he takes out his phone and starts to search for something. “The hero forums love keeping track of obscure heroes. Eraserhead is a recent fan favourite. There isn’t that much about him, he’s apparently not easy to spot, but I could swear there was a new picture of him somewhere recently...”

Intrigued despite himself, Dabi leans forwards over the table to be able to peek at Natsu’s phone. On his side, Hawks is doing the same. Dabi is no stranger to weird internet forums, used them quite a lot in fact – know your enemy and all that – but he wasn’t expecting his brother to be into this kind of thing. Plus, he’s kind of hoping the picture might be embarrassing, giving him a great opportunity for blackmail.

“Ah, there it is!” Natsuo grins triumphantly, then turns the phone around to show them the screen. “It’s blurry and you can’t see that much, but it’s the best we’ve got.”

Dabi takes one look at the photo and nearly has a heart attack.

It is, undeniably, Aizawa in the picture. It’s clearly been taken at night, with the man’s black hair and outfit melting into the darkness of the deserted alley, leaving him barely visible even without the aforementioned blurriness. The only distinctive features that would allow a regular person to identify him are his yellow goggles and, to a lesser degree, his white scarf. He’s standing with his side facing the camera, so not much of his facial features can be seen, but it’s obvious he’s talking to someone, someone inside the alley that the photographer wasn’t able to capture. The only evidence of this other person is a half of a shoe sticking out from behind the wall.

Dabi’s shoe.

What the fuck.

He remembers that particular night. It was one of his usual vigilante patrols, hardly anything interesting – definitely no stabbing or reconnecting with long-lost friends – when Aizawa dropped in on him out of nowhere, like he’s made a habit of doing, and then spent around fifteen minutes lecturing him about the moral way of disposing of criminals. Which, according to the hero, tying them up in obvious bondage positions and leaving them with a piece of paper spelling KICK ME stuck to their backs is not. As always, Aizawa is no fun.

The point is, Dabi remembers this moment very well and he had no idea anyone else was there with them. Certainly not someone with a camera. Which is bad, because if it could happen once, who’s to say it wouldn’t happen again? It’s a miracle as it is that he’s not in this photo. Sure, he’s usually wearing a mask and a hood to disguise himself, but not always. And what if it’s not enough to fool those who really want to look?

“Is this the only picture?” he asks, trying very hard to sound casual and hoping nobody can hear his suddenly racing heart.

Natsuo’s expression falls into disappointment. “The only recent one. There are, like, four pictures of him total and most of them were taken at the start of his career when he was less careful about it. This is the best one we have.” Then, something seems to click in his brother’s brain and he narrows his eyes at him. “Eraserhead isn’t even officially registered in any agency, as far as I know, let alone taking interns. How do you know him?”   

For a second, Dabi has no non-incriminating answer to that, but then his eyes land on his father and inspiration strikes him.

“Remember when I got arrested?”

“Hard not to,” Fuyumi deadpans, at the same time as Hawks snorts under his breath.

Dabi ignores them both.

“I met him there,” he explains, with as much confidence as he can muster. “I guess he must have pitied me for having such an awful father or maybe I impressed him with my charming personality and wit because he’s been pestering me ever since.”

Fuyumi gasps. “Wait, is that the creepy adult stalker you told me about?”

“Excuse me?” Hawks and Rei exclaim at the same time.

Dabi shrugs. “Yup. One and the same.”

His sister crosses her arms, giving him a disapproving look. “You could have mentioned he was a hero.”

Dabi raises an eyebrow, glancing pointedly at their father. “It’s not like heroes can’t be bad people too.”

She does not have a response to that.

“Man, I can’t believe you know Eraserhead!” Natsuo groans with jealousy, either not grasping the gravity of how dangerous stalking can be or simply not caring. “You’ve got to introduce me!”

Dabi shoots him a conspiratorial smile. “I will see what I can do.”

Appeased, Natsuo beams at him, pockets his phone, and then gets back to eating. He doesn’t seem to notice that half of his noodles are missing, having been discreetly stolen by a very satisfied-looking Shouto.

“But wait, if you’re doing your internship with this Eraserhead guy, then why is Keigo...?” Fuyumi trails off, glancing uncertainly between Hawks and Endeavor.

Hawks, the drama queen, whines like a fatally wounded animal and falls dramatically on Dabi, resting his head on his shoulder. “That’s a great question, Fuyumi! See, I have been betrayed! By my beloved boyfriend nonetheless!”

Dabi snorts, but benevolently doesn’t push the other off himself, instead sneaking an arm around his boyfriend’s waits and pulling him closer. He doesn’t deem the accusation worth a response – Hawks might not know that, but it was entirely Keigo’s choice to intern with Endeavor. Dabi never made a secret of the fact that he had no intention of accepting his father’s offer, it was just Keigo’s wounded pride that pushed him to spitefully choose Endeavor. It’s simply Hawks’ bad luck that he got transported into this world at the worst possible moment and is now forced to live with the consequences of his baby version’s actions.

Fuyumi has no way of knowing that either though, so she frowns at him. “Touya didn’t tell you he would be going somewhere else?”

“Nope! He has no consideration for me at all.”

Not about to be accused of something he didn’t do, Dabi pinches his boyfriend’s side and thoroughly enjoys the squeak it earns him.

“I did tell you,” he says, stifling a smirk. “It’s not my fault you don’t listen.”

“Ah, but I’m sure me and Endeavor can still have a great time together!” Hawks chirps, all smiles, but Dabi knows him enough to hear the underlying threat in his tone. His wide grin reveals sharp teeth and his piercing eyes are drilling into Endeavor with something very close to bloodlust. Truly, a magnificent bird of prey. “It’s a chance to get to know each other, after all.”

“I have no need to get to know you anymore than I already have,” Endeavor barks, finally unable to control himself any longer. “I am going to conduct the internship professionally but that’s it.”

Hawks continues grinning at him, keeping his gaze a little too long without blinking. “We will see.”     

***

Eventually, they are done with their food and decide to relocate back to the living room. Endeavor excuses himself, still seething a little, which is great for the overall atmosphere. Change of heart or not, their father’s presence will probably never not make everyone at least a little bit nervous.

They entertain themselves with more games, meaningless chatter, and piles of sweets. Hawks seems to have really hit it off with Dabi’s family, but then again, he’s always had a penchant for charming people, so perhaps he shouldn’t be surprised. Luckily for Dabi’s already barely existing dignity, Hawks gets a call from his mother urging him to come back home before he can convince Rei to show him Dabi’s embarrassing baby pictures.

After his boyfriend leaves, Dabi helps his siblings clean up, makes himself a cup of tea, and, after wishing everyone goodnight, retreats to his bedroom for the rest of the evening. He briefly considers going out to do some vigilanting, however, he abandons the idea after he’s interrupted by a yawn three times in the time it takes him to do his nightly hygiene routine. He’s going to have plenty of opportunities to beat people up this coming week, he reasons. He might as well let himself rest today.         

He's already in bed, washed, clad in pyjamas, and mindlessly scrolling through Twitter – never X, fuck you Elon – when there is a quiet knock on his door.

“Come in,” he shouts with little hesitance. A knock like that would likely not belong to Endeavor, and if it somehow does, Dabi can always blast fire at him until he leaves.

The door opens slowly, which is another clue that it’s not his father, and eventually it reveals Rei’s slightly tentative figure. He locks his phone and puts it aside, straightening himself into somewhat more respectable position. He’s aware that his hair is probably a mess and he looks a little silly in his overly gothic bedding, but his mother doesn’t blink an eye, simply letting herself in and closing the door behind her.

“Do you mind...?” She gestures towards his bed, a silent question in her eyes.

He sends her a warm smile. “Not at all, have a sit.”

He doesn’t need to be a mind reader to figure out what she likely wants to talk about. It’s not surprising – Hawks is, ironically, really bad at acting. Perhaps it was amplified by his nerves about meeting so many in-laws at the same time, but, nevertheless, you would have to be an idiot not to notice something was wrong with him. And since Rei is in on his secret now, well, it’s no wonder she put the pieces together.

His mother shoots him a grateful smile and sits herself on the edge of his bed, her subdued and warm appearance clashing horribly with all the black and gloom of Dabi’s bedroom. She takes a moment to trace the scull patterns on his duvet with her fingers, humming some melody Dabi doesn’t recognize, before finally focusing her gaze on him.

“You’ve had quite a day today, hm?”

Dabi snorts. “You can say that.”

At first, she chuckles, but soon enough, her expression turns more serious. “Say, how was your day with your father?”

Dabi blinks, this not being what he expected her to talk about. But he guesses she would want to know, especially with this whole agreement about her taking her time to judge Endeavor’s worth as a father before agreeing to a relatively amicable divorce.

“It was... fine,” Dabi admits, very reluctantly, his face twisting into a grimace. “He didn’t do anything too awful. I think he had some sort of epiphany, actually.”

“Oh?” Rei cocks a curious eyebrow.

“Yeah, we had an encounter with this guy who’s been an absolutely shitty dad to his kids,” he explains, scowling at the memory of that particular asshole. “He made his daughter run away, and his son wanted to kill him for it. We managed to stop him, even though I, personally, thought he had every right to do it. Anyway, the guy got arrested and hopefully won’t harm his children again. But, well, it was eerily similar to our situation. I think father is in some sort of shock.”

Rei mutters something under her breath, something that sound suspiciously like ‘serves him right’, but other than that, only nods thoughtfully.

“Well, I’m glad it wasn’t too bad then. I know you didn’t really want to go.”

“He blackmailed me,” Dabi scoffs, not even attempting to hide his contempt for the man. “It’s not like I really had a choice.”

Rei winces, her expression sympathetic. “At least it’s over now,” she reasons. “It’s admirable you would do so much to help your friend. I’m sure he’s grateful.”

Dabi barks a laugh, fondness replacing his previous irritation. “Jin would be grateful for any scrap of compassion he could get. He’s such a good person, but he got really shitty cards at life for some reason. He was a friend to me even when I was a complete asshole. It’s the least I could do.”

Rei hums. “It’s still strange to realize you’ve lived an entire life I’m not privy to. I’m not going to pry, you’re free to share whatever you’re comfortable with. But, well, I can’t help but notice... “ She pauses, sending him a meaningful look. They both know she’s already figured it out. “Keigo isn’t really Keigo anymore, is he?”

Damn, she’s even more perceptive than he gave her credit for. To notice something was off about the boy is one thing, but to realize there’s much more to it, much more to his identity, that’s something not many people would be able to do.

Then again, maybe he’s reading too much into it. After all, it’s just phrasing. It might simply be a coincidence.

“I knew him as Hawks,” he admits anyway, because it’s fucking great to be able to confide into someone about it. “Apparently, he got time travelled too. He’s just really shitty at hiding it.”

He can’t help but smile fondly at that, his heart fuller, less broken, than it’s been for weeks now. Perhaps he should be more upset – after all, doesn’t Hawks being here mean this dimension’s Keigo is basically dead? He did care about that version of his boyfriend – of course he did. But there was always something missing, something not quite like it should be, hanging like a shadow over their relationship. Dabi can’t find it in himself to be anything else than overjoyed at being reunited with the only person he’s ever managed to fall in love with. And maybe, shamefully, a little relieved.

Besides, his presence here already more or less killed Touya. Maybe now Keigo can be with him too, wherever they went. Maybe it doesn’t have to be a tragedy.  

And if not... well, it’s not like they would be the first people to die because of him. He’s learned to live with that.      

“Honestly, you weren’t much better,” his mother reminds him pointedly, bringing him back to reality. Met with her teasing smirk, Dabi shrugs and grins sheepishly, pushing the unpleasant thoughts to the back of his head. “So, I take it you two were close in your world as well?”

“We’ve been dating for almost a year,” Dabi reveals, not even bothering to hide his sappy expression. “It hasn’t been easy, and he can be an idiot sometimes, but he’s somehow become the most important idiot in my life. When I woke up here... I was sure I would never see him again. We were never friends in school in my timeline and I didn’t even know his real name, I didn’t think I would be able to find him. And even if I did, what would I say? But then I met his younger version, and it turned out we were supposed to be best friends, but he wasn’t my Keigo, and, well... I missed him. I missed him so much. When he came here today and he was my Hawks, I...” he cuts himself off, suddenly embarrassingly chocked up.

She gives him a look full of soft understanding, but there’s something profoundly sad about it too.

“It sounds like he makes you really happy,“ she says, gently. “I’m glad you were able to find each other again.”

Dabi has made his peace with staying in this world forever. It wasn’t perfect, it threw Endeavor, and moral dilemmas, and math at him, and it took away a lot of people he cared about, but it also gave him second-chances at things he never hoped he would be able to fix. Hawks being here doesn’t change all that much – Endeavor is still a ticking bomb, Dabi is still failing school, most of the League are still in shitty situations, and the society is still fucked-up. But maybe... maybe having Hawks by his side is going to make facing those things a little bit easier. And maybe they can finally be what they always wished they could be – just a couple of guys in love, without war, blood, and betrayal always hanging between them.  

“Yeah,” he whispers, staring down at the red blanket spread over his lap, and smiles again. “Me too.”

Chapter Text

The only good thing about this whole internship week is that he is finally able to sleep in, Dabi decides, as he groggily drags himself out of his warm, comfy, wonderful bed, and immediately downs an entire can of his favourite energy drink in one gulp.

Sure, he’s still exhausted as fuck, but at least he got to sleep for almost five hours instead of the three or so he usually manages to squeeze in between coming back from his vigilanting gig and his morning alarm. He doesn’t even need as much foundation to hide the dark circles under his eyes as he usually does and only stumbles into a wall once on his way out of the bathroom! Small victories.

From what he (more or less accidentally) heard from his classmates – and a very whiny Hawks – this privilege he’s been granted is an exception rather than the rule. Apparently, most heroes demand their interns to arrive even earlier than they would for regular classes, for whatever unholy reason. Endeavor, in an astounding show of immaturity, has, for example, insisted that his internship absolutely had to begin at five in the morning, no doubt as a childish revenge for Hawks still choosing to intern with him despite being fully aware that Dabi wouldn’t.

(Unfortunately for the man, Hawks has always been an early bird – pun fully intended – and therefore Endeavor’s devious plan has been bound to fail from the start. Being a good boyfriend, Dabi did not point that fact out to his father when he bragged about this to them during dinner last night.) 

It’s really only thanks to Aizawa being the least morning person to have ever lived that Dabi’s own internship doesn’t start until ten. He would have preferred it to not start at all, but we can’t always have everything, so he’s going to take what he can get.

Doesn’t mean he can’t complain about it though.

“You’re leaving already?” Rei asks when he passes her by on his way to the door. She’s sitting on a couch with a thick book in her hands, a steaming cup of coffee placed on the table next to her.

“I’m not even sure where I’m supposed to go, so I thought it would be smart to leave early,” he explains, fruitlessly trying to fix the right sleeve of his costume. It keeps getting twisted around, no matter how many times he puts it back in place. Whatever fucker made this, Dabi’s going to have words with them. “Do we have anything to eat?”

“There are sandwiches left for you in the kitchen,” she says automatically, because she’s a mum. Then the rest of his words sink in and she frowns, putting away her book and sitting up more straight. “What do you mean you don’t know where to go? Did this hero you’re doing the internship with not tell you anything?”

Shrugging, Dabi walks over to the kitchen in search of aforementioned sandwiches, his stomach rumbling angrily at the mere thought of food. So much physical activity is really taking its toll on him and his already fast metabolism. Add to that the fact that he rarely has time to eat between everything he has going on and the general fact of, at least physically, being a teenage boy, and you get a very hungry picture.   

“We were supposed to get emails with the details from the agencies by the end of the weekend. Keigo says he got his right as he came back home from ours on Saturday, along with a strongly worded personal letter from you know who.” He can’t help but smirk as he remembers the long conversation over the phone he and his boyfriend had about all the things that suck about his father after that. Perhaps if Hawks’ attitude towards Endeavor had been like this from the beginning, Dabi would have fallen for him sooner. “He didn’t let me read it though. Isn’t that such a shame?”

He lets out a pleased hum when his eyes finally fall on the small plate of delicious looking sandwiches. The smell of eggs and mayo hits his nose and, without his consent, he feels his mouth salivating. There’s nothing quite like homemade food, even one so simple. It definitely beats the things they call hot-dogs at shady gas stations and discarded scraps dug from garbage cans that used to constitute the majority of his diet.

While he’s busy stuffing his mouth with the first sandwich, almost moaning as he does so, Rei abandons her post in the living room and follows him to the kitchen to continue the conversation. She’s leaning against the doorway, observing him with unconcealed amusement, while also somehow looking concerned at the same time.

“And you didn’t get that email?”

“Nope,” Dabi says with his mouth full – so it ends up resembling a choking sound more than anything like human speech – absolutely unbothered.

He knows Aizawa – as much as he sometimes would prefer not to – and this lack of organization does not surprise him in the slightest. The man is great with some big responsible things like saving reckless teenagers from bleeding out to death or adopting abused children, but paperwork? Dabi wouldn’t put it past him to have simply forgotten about needing to send any email at all.

It’s not like this is a problem or anything. Dabi has Aizawa’s number on speed dial by now – as embarrassing as it is – and even if he didn’t, the man is annoyingly skilled at finding him no matter where he is or how much he tries to hide from him.

“That doesn’t sound very professional,” his mother says, her frown deepening considerably. “Who is this hero you’re interning with, again?”

“It’s Eraserhead. You probably wouldn’t know him,” he answers, still chewing on the exquisite food he’s been given. He sighs with bliss after the last bite. “Damn, these are delicious.”

“Thank you, darling.” Rei smiles, ruffling his hair and then chuckles once she sees his grimace. The humour doesn’t stick with her for long though. “Maybe you could try calling the school and asking if there’s still a chance to change the agency? If they’re not treating this seriously…”

He shakes his head, trying not to show how amused he is by her baseless worries.

“I don’t think that’s an option. I didn’t get any other offers. Well, aside from the old man, but I’m definitely not going there.”

A conflicted look twists his mother’s face. “I know you don’t exactly get along with your father, Touya, but…”

“No buts,” he protests immediately, opening the fridge and taking out a box of juice. Not caring about useless things like hygiene, he doesn’t bother with a glass and just drinks straight out of it like an animal, earning himself a disapproving stare. “I mean it. Nothing you say will convince me.”

“Not even Keigo being there?”

Cocking an eyebrow, Dabi asks, “Didn’t you say before that we weren’t joined at the hip? And that I would survive not seeing him for a day?” He points at himself. “This is me surviving.”

Most likely realizing that this isn’t a battle she can win, Rei sighs, her shoulders dropping. Her expression lands somewhere between fond and resigned, as if she couldn’t decide whether to be annoyed with him for being so difficult or admire him for his dedication. In moments like this Dabi’s reminded what it feels like to experience empathy – he would not change a thing about himself, but he does feel sorry for her. She doesn’t deserve having to deal with his bullshit.

Alas, this is the moment his eyes catch the time on the large clock hanging on the wall, causing him to groan internally. At this point, he’s most likely going to be late – to wherever it is he’s supposed to be going – and god knows Aizawa will not stop bugging him about it for the entire day. Even if it’s totally going to be his fault for failing to provide him with necessary information.

“I really need to get going,” he mumbles, wiping off any leftover mayo from his face and putting the empty plate in the sink. He washes his hands, dries them with a small kitchen towel, and places a kiss on his mother’s cheek when he passes her on his way out. “Bye!”

“Wait!” she calls after him, her arms crossed over her chest. “Where are you going to go, if you didn’t get that email?”

Shooting her a smile over his shoulder, he shrugs and says, truthfully, “I’m gonna take the train downtown and hope he finds me himself.”

Once again, her face twists into a frown.

“A train? Mr. Takahashi is supposed to drive you.” Ah! Takahashi! So that’s his driver’s name. Good to know. “Your father isn’t going to like this.”

But the way she says that isn’t as scared as it used to be – it’s a little cheeky, if anything. There’s still too much hesitancy, too much bone-deep anxiety, for it to be entirely normal, but, this time, the implications of her warning are less ‘he’s going to hurt you’ and more ‘he’s going to bitch about it’.   

“Oh, I already talked to Mr. Takahashi. He wasn’t very enthusiastic about the idea, but he was happy enough to get a free day.” Grinning devilishly, Dabi winks at her. “I won’t tell if you won’t.”

And as he eventually leaves the house, the echo of Rei’s genuine laughter follows him the entire way to the station.

***

“Is this supposed to be a joke?” Dabi mutters to himself, eyebrows creased in consternation.

A guy sitting next to him shifts in his place, pushing his elbow harder into Dabi’s side. The smell of his cheap cologne assaults not only Dabi’s nose but also his opinion on humanity – no one in their right mind can possibly think ‘wood’ is something you would like to smell like. A woman on the other side of him is speaking loudly on her phone – with her lover, judging by the excessive use of pet names. Her shrill voice makes his ears bleed, resembling more a sound of a nail scraping on a chalkboard than any noise a human should be allowed to make.

Dabi hates them both. He hates taking the train during the day, when there’s hardly any space to breathe, people suffocating you with their sweaty bodies and stinky armpits. He hates not being able to kill them for being so fucking irritating – honestly, who actually talks like that? this has to be on purpose – and he hates himself for refusing the comfortable car just to prove a point.

But, most of all, he hates Eraser and this insulting email that he’s received about two minutes ago that he’s still staring at in total astonishment.

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Subject: Internship Details   

Dear Mr. Todoroki

We, an absolutely legit and long-existing agency, are writing to you in regards to your upcoming internship you’re going to have with us. We apologize for the lateness of this message that was definitely not caused by the fact that we had no idea we needed to have an official agency established to conduct these internships until the very last moment.

We would love to inform you that the first meeting with your mentor will be happening at 10AM in the Shirika Park, next to the sixth cherry blossom tree from the main entrance. We strongly encourage you not to bring any items that might be classified as suspicious/lethal/of uncertain origins/stolen/unsuitable for the age of the user. In such case, the mentor reserves himself the right to confiscate any such items until further notice.

Due to perfectly logical and absolutely not annoying requirements set by the school board, at least half of the meetings are supposed to be held during daytime, therefore, regretfully, the meetings on Tuesday and Friday will be held at the same place and hour. We will send additional email with details about the other days. We would like to request the recipient of this message to withhold himself from any ill-advised additional hero-adjacent activities for the duration of the internship. Strongly request.   

If you could kindly send us back your insurance details, we would be very grateful. This way, if something unexpected happens, let’s say someone gets, for example, stabbed, we would be able to get this person to the hospital without any legal problems.

Once again thank you for choosing our agency for your internship. We hope you will have a great time with us.

Yours sincerely,

Eraserhead Agency

This is the most hideous email Dabi has ever seen in his life. For some reason, the letters are green. The entire thing is written in Comic Sans. There are random stock pictures thrown around, watermarks and all. The background is pastel pink, with glittering orange stars thrown all over. A few large red exclamation points are sparkling at him aggressively from the sides. If Dabi didn’t know any better, he would assume it’s a spam email.

What does it even mean sixth cherry blossom tree from the entrance? Is it possible that Aizawa being a real hero was a scam all along?

He’s tempted to delete it. To get out on the next stop and go back home. It’s not worth it. Why is he doing this to himself again? Is that what being a hero means? That he will have to endure things like that? At least emails from the League didn’t look like they were written by a ten-year-old.

(Which might only be the case because Toga absolutely refused to use something ‘as ancient and uncool’ as email, instead preferring to send them random snapchats at the weirdest moments, but that’s beside the point.)

What the hell are insurance details anyway? Shouldn’t the school provide that? What next, his credit card number? No chance. If Eraser wants his money, he will have to steal his wallet like a normal person.

He takes a screenshot of the email and sends it to Hawks. Not even ten seconds later he gets a ‘lmao’ in return. Yeah, this sums up his feelings pretty well.

A clock on his phone tells him it’s nine minutes before ten. No way he’s making it to this tree on time. Not only has he no idea which park is that email talking about but he’s also like seventy percent sure he’s already missed the stop he should have gotten off at. He types the address in google maps, but, unfortunately, they do not number trees on their maps. Oh well.

The next time the train stops, Dabi jumps out of his seat, making sure to step on the guy’s foot and slap the woman in the face with his backpack as he forces his way out the door. Deciding he can’t be bothered to run around the town like an idiot, he slumps over just outside the station and sends his localisation to Aizawa with no explanation. This is what the man gets for neglecting his paperwork, he rationalizes. If he had sent this damned email yesterday, this wouldn’t have happened.

There’s no immediate answer, which doesn’t bother Dabi at all – he knows Aizawa isn’t very good at checking his phone. For someone barely in their twenties, Eraser can be such a grandpa sometimes. It’s a wonder Present Mic manages to put up with him, considering their totally opposite vibes.

At least him and Hawks laugh at the same memes. Most of the time. Aizawa probably doesn’t even know what a meme is.

To occupy himself with something, Dabi zips open his backpack and digs into it in search of a chocolate bar he stole from Fuyumi’s secret stash this morning. She really should have gotten better locks on that drawer if she didn’t want him to snoop. Everybody knows there’s no such thing as personal property when you have siblings. He does not make the law – he simply obeys it. She can’t possibly be mad at him because of that.

But, just to be safe, if she asks, he’s going to blame Natsu.

Biting into the sweet bomb of calories, he lets his eyes follow various people passing him in their hurry. Most of them pay him no attention, too busy with their own lives, but occasionally, someone will glance at him with curiosity, especially focused on his hero costume. He rolls his eyes every time it happens, because normally – that is, if he was wearing his regular ripped jeans and the too large hoodie with suspicious dark stains that certainly aren’t blood, what are you talking about – the stares would be way more judgemental. Probably assuming he was a delinquent or a homeless person. But now? He’s a respectable hero-in-training that just happens to be sitting on the ground in front of the train station. Nothing worth sneering at.

He crumples the wrapper after he finishes eating and carelessly throws it to the ground, too lazy to bother with looking for a trashcan. That earns him some disapproving looks, most notably from a girl only a little older than him (well, than his body) who goes out of her way to pick it up and glare at him as she puts it into a bin. Definitely more used to that than to being regarded as someone worth respect, he smirks at her and enjoys the sight of her face getting slightly red. Unfortunately, she doesn’t stoop low enough to actually say anything to him, walking away without a single comment.

He starts tapping a rhythm into the pavement with his fingers, humming some random pop song a little too loudly for a public place. With his other hand, he unlocks his phone to check if there’s any answer from Aizawa and finds that there isn’t, despite the fact that it’s already past ten.

Sighing, he reaches for a cigarette. Somehow, it takes him three tries before he lights it successfully – and that’s with using his quirk. A man walking close to him grimaces and shoots him a scathing glare. More people eye him with disapproval. Come to think of it, is public smoking even legal? Probably not, judging by their outraged reactions. Or maybe that’s because he looks like a minor.

Another person frowns at him. He purposedly blows the smoke in their direction. They scoff and start walking faster. His phone remains painfully silent.

This is going to be a long day.

Fed up with waiting – what? he’s not a patient person and it’s been five minutes already! – Dabi sighs again, puts the cigarette into his other hand and dials Aizawa’s number.

“Where are you?” he says immediately after the man picks up, making sure to sound as irritated as he feels.

“What do you mean? I am exactly where I’m supposed to be. In the Shirika Park,” the familiar flat voice answers him curtly, accompanied by faint sounds of children laughing and dogs barking. “The question is where are you?”

There’s a pause during which Dabi takes a drag and then exhales slowly to calm himself before he accidentally sets the station on fire. “Didn’t you get my message?”

“What message?” Of course. “Wait, are you smoking?” Aizawa’s voice turns irritated. “I thought I made it clear in the email you weren’t supposed to bring illegally acquired items with you. Are you unable to listen to the simplest instructions?”

“Yes, your email. Let’s talk about that.”

“Is there any problem with it?”

“There’s a problem with you, if you think that’s what an email should look like,” Dabi answers swiftly, his mouth twisting in disdain at the memory of that monstrosity.

On the other side of the phone, Aizawa lets out an almost inaudible chuckle. Dabi doesn’t need to see him to know he’s definitely grinning. “Hmm, I was so sure you would like it. But of course all you ever do is complain. I put a lot of work into establishing an agency so quickly, you know? You should be more grateful.”

Dabi snorts, stubbing out his cigarette. “It’s not my fault you didn’t even check the requirements for conducting internships before offering it.”

This time, the man sounds annoyed again. “They don’t require that at U.A. I simply assumed it would be the same with Shiketsu.”

“I’m sure you know what they say about assuming, hm?” Dabi smiles innocently, even though Eraser can’t see him.

More and more people come out of the station, creating an even bigger crowd on the already full street. This isn’t really city centre, but the roads are filled to the brim anyway. Long chains of honking cars, a few motorbikes in between with leather-clad drivers, hundreds of people almost walking over themselves – the sight gives him a migraine. Maybe he should have gone to that park after all.

“You still haven’t told me where you are,” Aizawa changes the subject without responding to Dabi’s teasing, apparently that eager to get back to business. As always, Aizawa is a bore. “We were supposed to start over ten minutes ago.”

“You can’t send me an email with the place of the meeting twenty minutes before time and expect me not to be late,” Dabi says, tapping his foot on the dirty pavement. “I sent you a message with my localization. Come find me.”

It’s a futile attempt, probably. Aizawa may be a good hero but he’s one of the laziest people Dabi has had a displeasure of meeting – including himself. There’s almost no chance he would agree to chase after Dabi instead of waiting to be found.

“How about no,” comes a flat reply.

Well, it was worth a shot.

In the end, after a lot of dramatic whining on Dabi’s part and exhausted sighing on Aizawa’s, they decide to meet half-way, in front of a well-known old cinema that’s supposedly impossible to miss – and, more importantly, is something he can actually put as a destination point in google maps. After packing his things, he gets up from the ground, brushes down his costume with the hand that’s not busy holding his phone, and forces his legs to direct him right into the thick crowd.

He walks through unfamiliar streets for what feels like eternity, exchanging sharp quips with his so-called mentor and pretending he doesn’t see his father’s annoying face on at least three big screens that he passes. That’s the silver lining, isn’t it? He might be having the least professional hero internship experience possible so far, but at least he’s not with Endeavor. It could have been much worse.

“Are you sure it’s supposed to be here?” Dabi asks, stares at the miniature map in his phone in frustration, then at the real sight in front of him, and regrets ever being born.

“Unless it’s been demolished in the last twenty-four hours, then yes, it is.”

Aizawa’s voice is a bit butchered by the shitty phoneline, especially since he’s currently on speaker, but it’s impossible to miss how fed up he is already. And they haven’t even seen each other yet! That’s probably a new record.

Dabi, once again, looks down at the map, which tells him there should be a large department store called “Mayana” in front of him. Then he raises his eyes up to stare at the brand new McDonald’s flashing its yellow light at him aggressively.

“Well, it’s not.”

The man inhales and exhales very loudly. “Are you sure this is the correct street?”

Dabi growls, barely resisting the urge to set the damn phone on fire. And maybe Aizawa too, while he’s at it.

“No, I’m not! I fucking told you I had no idea where I am!”

Unfortunately, even after a lot more staring at the map, screaming and waving off concerned looks from the people around him, the aforementioned McDonald’s does not become the expected department store. Giving up, Dabi asks some guy if he knows where that damned cinema might be and then follows his instructions even as Aizawa grumbles what sounds like a bunch of crap into his ear.

He’s just about to make a not exactly nice comment about Eraser’s mother when he’s startled by a distant crash, a subsequent explosion, and some very concerning screaming.

“What was that?” Aizawa’s voice instantly turns sharp and focused.

Dabi frowns. “Nothing good.” As though to prove him right, his words are immediately followed by another crash and more yelling. “Guess I’m gonna have to find out.”

“Be careful,” Aizawa warns, but Dabi’s already running towards the noise, so he can’t be bothered to answer.

The commotion, whatever it is, is not actually as close as he initially assumed. He jogs through quickly emptying streets, manoeuvring between either panicked or overexcited people, keeping his senses sharp to be able to instantly react to any danger. A thick puff of dark smoke starts raising over the buildings in front of him, as well as something... hairy? Now curious, he speeds up, his boots hitting the ground with loud thuds. And after he takes the last turn, they let out a scratching sound as he’s forced to halt violently to avoid crashing into a growing crowd of onlookers.  

From what he can see from above their heads, the area is a complete mess. Lots of cars bent in half, scattered over the street like dead flies smacked overenthusiastically with a swatter, with thick whips of smoke rising from under their hoods. Dents in the walls of the surrounding buildings, debris covering the ground, a trail of holes in the asphalt, shaped almost like footprints. A couple of small fires here and there. A prevailing stench of gasoline and burnt hair.  

And, in the middle of it all, a huge hairy monster, a mix between a human and an overgrown bear, clutching another half-crushed car in its giant paw and roaring wildly as it attempts to smash it into a lone struggling hero.

At least it doesn’t seem like anyone’s died yet. Dabi hopes so anyway, because otherwise the crowd’s enthused cheering would be really inappropriate.

“Damn,” he whistles in appreciation, leaning against the nearest wall to watch the poor hero get smacked around by a wannabe King Kong.       

“What? What’s happening?”

“Same old thing.” He shrugs, even if Aizawa can’t see him. “Some pissed-off dude making a mess.”

He can imagine Aizawa frowning. “Do not get involved.”

Dabi scoffs. “Wasn’t going to. It’s not my problem.”

There’s a pause then, as though the man wasn’t expecting such an answer. It seems like he’s conflicted between being relieved Dabi isn’t going to recklessly throw himself at any random villain in his path and disappointed that he doesn’t want to.

“Good,” Aizawa says eventually. In the background, the bear monster roars again and smashes the car into the side of a tall building, causing the ground under Dabi’s feet to tremble. The people around him cheer even louder. “Leave it to the heroes.”

There is still only one hero on site, some lanky guy clearly right out of school, who’s already panting heavily and is obviously pretty spent in general, with dirt on his face and blood slowly seeping through his canary yellow hero costume. The only reason the villain hasn’t attacked any of the idiots from the peeping crowd yet is because the guy is keeping his attention on himself, but the moment he gets too tired... Well.

Again, not Dabi’s problem. If it comes to that, he can protect himself just fine.

Of course, the universe hates Dabi – or at least really enjoys watching him suffer – and it decides to remind him about it in the most inconvenient of ways – with a panicked feminine scream.

“Katsuki!”

The terrified yell is almost swallowed up by the general noise of the crowd. However, some heads do turn towards a blond woman pushing frantically through the crowd, Dabi’s being one of them. She leaves behind her a trail of displeased faces, people grimacing and rubbing their arms when her elbows hit to make way, but she’s clearly too absorbed to care about that. However, the moment she arrives at the very front of the gathering and attempts to run forward, she’s intercepted and held back by a couple of policemen who refuse to let her go even as she trashes furiously in their grip, reaching forward and continuing to scream.

“Let me go! You hear me?! Let me go! Fuck! Katsuki!”

The name itself only vaguely rings a bell somewhere in the back of Dabi’s head, but it doesn’t really need to. A kid, as blond as his mother, with spiky hair and miniature explosions in his palms, running through the debris towards the raging monster, is, all in all, rather hard to miss.

God fucking damn it. He knew children were dumb, but he had no idea just how much. It’s official now. Dabi loathes hero types, even if they’re fucking six.

“Calm down!” snaps one of the men holding the brat’s mother back. “If you go after him, you’re going to get hurt too! Let the heroes handle it!”

In any other situation, the guy might have had a point. In this situation? Yeah, that’s not happening. The hero currently getting his ass kicked by the bear-man can barely keep himself alive, let alone a kid who stupidly decided to wander right into the villain’s path. If we’re being real, the kid is, like, eighty percent dead.

“You think I fucking care?! That’s my son! He’s going to get himself killed! Let me go, I need to get him! Katsuki! Katsuki, get back here right now!”

“What’s happening?” Aizawa’s voice startled him unexpectedly. To be honest, Dabi thought he would have hung up by now.

Bakugou – whose name is apparently Katsuki – either can’t hear his mother’s screaming over the beast’s roars or is wilfully choosing to ignore it. He strides forward, getting closer and closer to the villain, dangerously close. It’s clear to anyone watching that the kid is trying to be a hero – he must have noticed the real hero struggling and for some reason decided he would somehow be able to help. That, however, is questionable, to say the least, considering how many times he trips and stumbles on his way. And also seeing as he’s, you know, fucking six.

“Some dumb kid is trying to get himself killed,” Dabi explains, earning himself a number of scandalized glares from the people around him. Which is, for one, unnecessary – he’s just telling the truth – and also hypocritical, coming from idiots who stayed behind instead of running away, risking their own safety, just to watch said kid get killed.

“What—?” Aizawa demands, even more serious now. “Look, where are you, send me your address, I’m coming.”

Not bothering to argue, Dabi does exactly that. At least it saves him the trouble of finding the man so they can finally start their internship. Plus, he would love to see Aizawa face off against a knock-off King Kong. Too bad he didn’t bring popcorn.

In the meantime, it seems like everyone in the crowd is watching Bakugou with bated breath, just waiting for the monster to finally notice him. Dabi can’t help but wonder how many of them secretly hope to see a child get violently murdered in front of them. He thinks he sees some people recording with their phones. What are they even planning to do with a video of something like that, jerk off to it?

The tension gets thicker and thicker as seconds pass, one after another. And finally, it happens. Bakugou manages to get close enough to the creature to be able to attack it with his tiny explosions. Well, “attack” might be a bit of an exaggeration. The sparks just sort of flicker, then bounce off the creature’s leg anti-climatically. It’s kind of ridiculous and probably really horrifying for his mother, especially since the monster’s foot alone is at least two times bigger than the boy and could easily squash him even on accident.

At last, the crowd goes silent. As though in slow motion, the bear-man glances down – he doesn’t even flinch or anything, the explosion most likely nothing more than a tickle – and his wild eyes land on the child at his feet. He drops the car he’s been holding, drives the hero attacking him away with an effortless smack, and reaches down to curl his enormous fist around a furiously spitting Bakugou.

“No! No! Fuck, let me go! Katsuki! Katsuki!”

Dabi winces as the volume of the mother’s screams becomes almost unbearable. He gets it, she’s distressed, her son is dying, blah blah blah, but would it kill her to be a bit more considerate towards others?

Meanwhile, the monster is now bringing the struggling boy higher and higher, only pausing when they’re basically face to face. He doesn’t seem like his intentions towards the child are... aggressive, per se. In fact, he appears kind of curious. Bakugou, on the other hand, is raging. Even from where he’s standing, Dabi can hear a remarkable litany of insults the kid is throwing at the villain. It’s like he’s not scared at all. Dabi isn’t sure whether it’s impressive or just stupid.

Unfortunately for little Katsuki, the supposed real hero of this fight manages to get back on his feet and, perhaps not realizing that his opponent is holding a person, uses the bear-man’s momentary distraction to strike him from behind.

It happens so quickly Dabi would have missed it if he blinked. The beast howls, shakes in pain, and, most importantly, unclenched his fist as he flings his arms up.

“KATSUKI!”

Bakugou is unceremoniously yeeted in the air, flailing his arms and, for the first time, shrieking in terror, before, miraculously, crashing into one of the lower buildings where he manages to grasp the edge of the rooftop, if only just barely. His weak baby arms are clearly straining, his fingers holding on for dear life – literally – with his legs wiggling desperately, searching for something to stand on. Anyone with eyes can see that he’s not going to last long – and that this is not a fall anyone is likely to survive.  

“Let me go! I need to get him, I need to—!” the woman’s words are abruptly cut off by her own shriek when the bear-man’s flailing arm swings by just inches away from her struggling child, only missing hitting him through a damn miracle. “Katsuki!”

“Shit,” one of the officers holding her back curses harshly, but his grip on her only tightens. Others echo him with similar exclamations, their faces pale but eyes eagerly locked on the imminent tragedy.   

They’re probably imagining all the tear-inducing ways in which they will be able to describe the incident to the press later, after Bakugou’s body is already packed away in a small black bag and the only thing left of him is a gloomy news headline.    

Dabi doesn’t want to get involved. He doesn’t give much of a fuck about the brat and, really, it’s his own fault he’s in this situation anyway.  Sure, he might be a kid, but even children should be smart enough not to run straight into a rampaging monster’s arms.

But this particular brat is, for whatever reason, going to mean something to Shouto one day. And Shouto has had enough taken from him already.

“Out of my way,” he barks, shouldering his way through the swarm of people standing between him and the temporary battlefield. They yelp and glare at him, and shout meaningless things his ears don’t even bother to register since his mind is too busy trying to come up with a plan that doesn’t end with anyone eaten by a rabid man-bear hybrid. And as he goes, he snaps into the still on-going call, “Eraser! Permission to engage?”

“What?” Aizawa questions, a little breathless, supposedly from running. “Why?”

“Stupid brat is gonna die,” Dabi says into the phone as he arrives at the centre of the wreckage.

He scans his surroundings, searching for anything that can help him save the kid, and, for a moment, his brain is completely blank, the situation utterly hopeless, until finally, he spots a rusted fire escape at the back of the building Bakugou is hanging from. He changes directions and rushes towards it instead.

“Dabi, don’t do anything reckless,” Aizawa warns, but Dabi can barely hear him over the beast’s roars and the sound of glass being crashed beneath his boots. “Leave it to the heroes.”

“There are no fucking heroes! They’re never there when it matters!” he snaps, his face twisting into a grimace for a second before he gets a grip and shoves the bitterness to the back of his head. This is not the time for his issues. He reaches the fire escape, shakes it a bit to see how stable it is, and although it’s definitely a little too wobbly for his liking, it’s going to have to do. “I’m going to save him anyway, but I would prefer not to go to jail for it. So: permission to engage?”      

Aizawa swears quietly. “Fine. Permission granted. But don’t you dare die or I—”

“Thanks, bye!”

He hangs up, pockets the phone, and sprints up the stairs as fast as his legs can manage. He’s not sure how much longer the poor kid can hold on before he slips or, more likely, is knocked off by the bear monster. And he would rather not find out.

The roof is mostly empty, except for a third of what used to be a car and some generic rubble surrounding it. He makes sure to keep his attention divided between not tripping on any of it and not getting hit by the monster’s reckless smacks as he hurriedly makes his way towards Bakugou. From this high up, the beast’s size seems even more intimidating – it appeared huge from the ground, sure, but standing on the roof of a four-story building and still being only at about its chest’s hight really puts things into perspective.

He reaches the edge in almost no time but it still feels too slow. There was no scream, no shrieks of horror, no anguished cries or anything of the sort, so Bakugou couldn’t have fallen yet, but there’s still a flash of apprehension in Dabi’s stomach in the short moment between getting there and peeking over the edge to confirm the boy has not completed his transformation into a puddle of blood and guts just yet.

The boy’s eyes are wide and desperate, glistening with forcefully withheld tears, his arms straining to their absolute limits. Dabi is surprised by a strong stench of nitro-glycerine but doesn’t let himself dwell on it right now. There isn’t any time to waste.

“Grab my hand!” he orders as he leans over the edge, one hand extended to the boy, the other keeping himself from falling.

Too absorbed in his panic, Bakugou must not have noticed him until he spoke. Startled, the boy looks up, meeting Dabi’s stare with those wide watery eyes, filled to the brim with a crushing awareness of one’s mortality. For just a fraction of a second, there’s a glint of relief in them; of hope. The next moment, Bakugou’s arms finally give up.

The boy screams, the crowd screams, the boy’s mother screams the loudest. Dabi curses adults who can’t keep their damn kids on a leash and catches the brat’s wrist at the last second, then unceremoniously drags him up onto the roof. The kid lands harshly on Dabi’s poor chest, making him grunt and topple to the ground, and most definitely giving him bruises.

“You okay?” he wheezes, glancing down at the trembling little body desperately clutching onto his costume.

The boy stills, then slowly, consciously, unclenches his fingers and raises his head to meet Dabi’s gaze. It’s painfully obvious he’s trying to put on a brave face, twisting his expression into one of aloof annoyance, but the effect is slightly ruined by the clear tear tracks painted on his puffy cheeks and the general shaking of his small body.

“I’m fine,” he murmurs, with an edge of hostility.

“You don’t have to be scared, you’re safe now—”

“I wasn’t scared!” the kid protests hotly, glaring at him with suspiciously pink cheeks. “I had everything under control. I didn’t even need your help.”

Dabi can’t do much more than raise a curious eyebrow. The monster keeps raging in the background, but so far, the rookie hero seems to be taking all of his attention, so he thinks it’s safe to have a little conversation with this ungrateful brat.

“Really?”

Bakugou sticks his chin out and crosses his arms over his small chest. “Yes. I’m the future Number One Hero. Some low-level villain is nothing to me.”

“I see.” Dabi nods his head, struggling to keep a straight face. “Sorry then. I didn’t realize you could fly.”

Bakugou’s cheeks get even redder, but he doesn’t say anything in response, only glares at him more. Dabi thinks he’s pretty entertaining. He’s also more certain than ever before that he never wants to have children.

A particularly loud crash reverberates harshly in the background, bringing Dabi back to earth and switching him back to, for the lack of a better word, ‘hero mode’. He stands up to get a better idea of what’s happening and curses under his breath when he realizes the aforementioned crash was in fact the sound of the rookie hero’s body colliding roughly with a brick wall. The guy has smashed into many walls over the course of this fight, so it shouldn’t be a big deal, but this time it seems like he’s hit his head; and pretty severely too, judging by the slowly growing puddle of blood under his face.

It's fine, Dabi reasons. Sure, the hero is out for good, but the monster doesn’t appear to have noticed them, so Dabi can simply grab Bakugou, escort him down the fire escape into his mother’s waiting arms and relax. Aizawa is on his way after all, and most likely so are some other heroes. Easy-peasy.

“Ha!” Bakugou yells suddenly, pointing his chubby baby finger at the (dead?) hero. His voice is rough and piercing, and loud like a fucking explosion, and Dabi is going to strangle him. “What a loser! A real hero wouldn’t be defeated so easily!”

“Shut the fuck up!” he hisses at the brat, but it’s already too late.

The wannabe King Kong roars as he turns in their direction, almost locking eyes with Dabi, and throws a gigantic piece of rubble exactly at where they’re standing.

“Get down!”

Dabi throws himself at Bakugou, pushing them both down onto the rough surface of the roof, and, stupidly, covers the brat with his own body. Luckily, most of the projectiles fly over their heads, but a bunch of stray pieces slash through Dabi’s back like a swarm of wasps – small but painful. He grits his teeth to stop himself from cursing the stupid kid, who’s now staring up at him with wide eyes and gaping mouth.               

The monster is still there, growling somewhere behind them, too close for comfort. There’s no time to waste on harsh words the kid will probably not care about anyway.

Quickly, Dabi drags himself up, ignoring the stinging in his back accompanied by a slow creeping of thick warm liquid. He grabs Bakugou’s wrist too, forcing him to his feet, and meets the boy’s eyes with intensity he hopes will convey how dangerous their situation truly is.

“See that?” He points to the only not flat element of the room – what he assumes is the entrance to the inside of the building. The door is locked up with chains, so they can’t escape inside, but there are walls and that will have to be enough for now. “Hide behind that. Do not come out unless I tell you to, understood?”

Alas, the previous momentary shock is gone and Bakugou is back to scowling. He squares his tiny shoulders and sends Dabi a glare.

“I’m not going to hide, I’m not a coward! I’m a hero!”

Dabi resist the urge to slap him.

“You’re not a fucking hero, you’re five, you idiotic piece of—! Fuck!”

This time, he ducks to the side, again dragging the boy along with him, and they barely avoid getting splashed by a full-size fucking car. The vehicle zooms past them and crashes against the neighbouring building before sadly plummeting to the ground.

Panting, sweating and very much done with this whole ‘saving people’ shit, Dabi levels the struggling kid with his most vicious villainous glare. “If you don’t do what I say and hide in the next three seconds, that freak is going to be the least of your problems because I will murder you instead. Are we clear?”

Bakugou pales slightly, as though sensing that Dabi is not joking, but he still looks reluctant. Dabi squeezes his wrist harder, not feeling much guilt when the kid hisses and tries to wrench his hand back.

“Are we clear?”

“Fine!” the boy spits, yanking himself back again, and this time, Dabi lets him go. He follows him with his gaze just long enough to be sure he actually goes where he’s supposed to and then turns back to the looming monster, who seems to have gotten bored with them and has now turned its attention to the crowd gathered to watch him.

Dabi pauses then, uncertain. He doesn’t have to do anything else. He saved Bakugou – wasn’t that the plan? It’s not his problem that those idiots haven’t run away when they should have; serves them right to be targeted, to be honest. And real heroes are on the way – probably. They will deal with it. And if a few people die before that, well, that’s just life. It’s not Dabi’s problem.

Screams. The monster’s thudding steps leaving holes in the asphalt. More rubble being thrown; more screams. Dabi watches the monster get closer and closer to where he knows the crowd has been – hopefully they would have scattered by now though. This really isn’t his problem.

But... Bakugou’s mother is in that crowd. She means nothing to him, of course, but, well... He knows what it feels like to lose a mother. Even a kid as obnoxious and infuriating as Bakugou doesn’t deserve to go through that. And, it’s a rare opportunity to let his quirk roam free. Maybe he could just try to divert the monster’s attention, only until reinforcements arrive.  

(God fucking damn it, Hawks was right. He is getting soft.)

“Oi!” he shouts as loud as he can so his voice can be heard over the sounds of destruction, all the while getting closer to the edge and, conveniently, away from where Bakugou is. It doesn’t seem like the man-beast has heard him though or maybe he simply chose to ignore him. Which was a mistake, because Dabi does not like to be ignored. “Oi, ugly-face!”

This time, his shout is accompanied by a scorching blast of blue fire, aimed straight at the monster’s head. It meets its target perfectly, causing the creature to wail and swipe at his face to put out the burning fur.

Try to ignore that, fucker, Dabi thinks to himself, smirking triumphantly.

Unfortunately, despite what it initially looked like, the blast seems to have caused only minimal damage. Except for leaving a few slightly darkened patches on the monster’s fur, Dabi’s attack appears to mostly affect the beast emotionally. Meaning: it really fucking pissed him off.

With what can only be described as a deafening war cry, the beast instantly turns in Dabi’s direction, inhuman fury in its eyes, and begins advancing in his direction with a speed it certainly has not exhibited before. His eyes widening, Dabi takes a few hurried steps back, almost losing his balance against the rumbling of the building. Some very worrying sounds coming from below as well as a sudden fist-shaped indent in the surface of the roof close to the edge that would have included Dabi’s crashed body has he not ducked at the last moment, prompt Dabi to curse and pray the building isn’t going to give up just yet. He isn’t given a lot of time to be concerned about that though, because only seconds later the beast is already aiming its gigantic fist at him once again.

Realizing that ducking will not work with this, seeing as every hit to the building makes it more likely to collapse, Dabi quickly shoots another wave of flames at the monster, this one much more intense, with intention of forcing it to back away. It wails yet again and does stumble back a little bit, although not as far as Dabi would have hoped, and this time regains its bearing much quicker, moving to attack even with some patches of its fur still on fire.

Left with no choice but to persevere and wait for someone more qualified to arrive, Dabi responds with more fire, wave after wave for every attempted hit, never letting it land but never successfully discouraging the beast either. After a few painful minutes of this fruitless exchange, the monster’s fur is almost entirely blackened and his movements perhaps slightly slower, but still there seems to be no actual damage – his skin must be somehow enhanced underneath.

Dabi, on the other hand, is reaching his limits. Everything is so hot. All around him, a shimmering haze of rippling and bending air obscures his vision, the roofing beneath his feet begins to melt, causing his shoes to stick to it slightly after every step, his whole body is drenched in sizzling sweat and he’s pretty sure he can feel the skin on his arms itching in a phantom echo of oh so familiar burns. His breathing is laboured, but each intake of the boiling air sends spike of pain through his windpipe and the lack of oxygen is slowly but surely making him dizzy.

“For fuck’s sake, what the hell are you made of?! Just die already!” he yells in frustration, but the fact that he’s immediately overcome by a coughing fit right after kind of undermines his efforts.

Where are the fucking heroes?! Why is it taking so long?! Why didn’t he just left those idiots to die like he probably should have?! Wouldn’t that be fucking poetic, great villain Dabi killed by a fucking bear-man because he actually tried to help someone.

Of course, it couldn’t even be that easy. Because the universe hates Dabi with a passion and so it’s clearly not satisfied with just watching Dabi burn himself to death again. No, that would be boring, wouldn’t it? The universe obviously isn’t one for reruns.

“Hey, ugly! How about this?!”

A sudden shout from behind freezes Dabi in place, an unexplained wave of terror gripping his insides as he watches, almost in slow motion, as Bakugou runs up to him and sends a singular explosion at the raging monster. The blast is larger and more impressive than all his previous attempts, no doubt fuelled by emotions, but in the end, it is still nothing against the beast’s hardened body. It does serve to bring its attention to the stupid idiotic braindead brat preening at Dabi’s side though. Frustration and anger boiling in his veins, he aims a true inferno straight at the bear-man’s face to buy himself some time, but the strain almost makes him pass out.  

“Are you insane?!” Dabi shrieks, more panicked than he can remember himself being in a long time, his legs barely managing to keep him up, his arms trembling like crazy. “I told you to hide!”

“You needed help!” the boy replies stubbornly, seemingly reading up for another attack, his eyes fixed on the villain, who is almost done rubbing on his eyes.

“Not from you, you fucking—!"

Unfortunately, Dabi doesn’t get to finish, as he’s once again forced to defend himself against the onslaught of attacks. He pushes Bakugou roughly behind himself to at least somewhat shield him with his body – even though the kid does not fucking deserve it – and readies for even more stressful and exhausting few minutes of fighting when the unthinkable happens.

The beast raises one of its arms over its head, readying to strike. Dabi raises his hands to counter with his fire. Bakugou moves from behind him and again places himself at his side. The fist starts descending. Dabi activates his quirk.

Nothing happens.

He tries again, but still nothing happens. Not even a spark.

There are only maybe three seconds between he realizes he won’t be able to use his fire this time and the moment the fist reaches them. There’s no time for them both to avoid it. It’s either Bakugou or him.

His body acts without him even making any conscious decisions. His hands won’t reach, but he manages to kick the kid hard enough for him to fall to the ground and, more importantly, for the fist to miss him by mere inches. The fist that, instead, connects with Dabi’s body and instantly sends him flying, right over the edge.

Chapter Text

What a lame way to die is Dabi’s first thought as he watches the roof get farther and farther away at an alarming rate.

Fuck is his second thought, following right after.  

He likes to think his third thought would be something like sorry mum or wow, that’s a pretty long fall for such a medium-high building, but instead it ends up being just huh?, because suddenly he’s no longer falling. Blinking in shock at being alive, Dabi turns his head only to notice several red feathers holding him up, only a few meters from the ground. A hysterical laugh bubbles out of his throat as immense relief spreads through his body.

Soon, a pair of arms sneaks around his middle from behind, squeezing tightly as to reassure him that he’s safe. A hot breath tickles his ear as familiar voice whispers into it, “Got you.”

Utterly humiliated – if Hawks is here, then Endeavor can’t be far behind – Dabi lets his head fall back onto his boyfriend’s shoulder, relaxing his muscles as much as he can while his heart is still hammering in his chest and his head is more than a little dizzy from all the adrenaline. It stings a little, that he wasn’t even able to protect one kid properly on his own and that he had to be saved in the end, but at least it’s Hawks who did the saving. Small miracles. Dabi would have honestly preferred to die than be caught by his smug father.

“You’re late,” is all he says, too exhausted to muster much humour. He has just almost died and it’s all because no actual ‘professional’ was there to deal with the threat. If things like this happen often, what are the damned heroes even getting paid for?

“Sorry,” Hawks says quietly, placing a soft kiss on Dabi’s still disgustingly sweaty neck. “We got here as soon as we could.”

“Just get me down. I hate hights.”  

Obediently, Hawks flaps his wings – smaller than the ones he would have in the future but apparently still strong enough to carry them both with ease – and slowly lowers them to the ground, landing on the least destroyed part of the street, far away from the villain. Who, from the looks of it, has been properly distracted and is just about to be pulverized by a flaming fist.

Ah, so there’s father dear.

Dabi has never thought that the feeling of his feet touching the pavement could be so sweet and beautiful. He can almost understand the urge to kiss the ground some people seem to have after similar experiences – almost, because it’s still too fucking gross to actually do it. Instead, he turns around in his boyfriend’s arms, making sure his hands are still wrapped around his waist, and hides his face in the crook of his neck.   

“Are you okay?” Hawks’ tone is half-amused half-worried, not nearly as panicked as Dabi would have expected with how fast his heart is racing against his own.

“I’m fine, pretty bird,” Dabi mumbles and it’s mostly true. If one were to ignore the exhaustion, pain and trauma.

“Are you sure?”

Dabi smiles despite everything. “I’m sure, you mother hen.”

Hawks grip on his waist tightens, sharp talons digging into Dabi’s soft skin, not enough to hurt but enough to make a point. Dabi tries very hard not to find it sexy.

“You menace,” Hawks sighs. “I just got you back. I’m not losing you again.”

Guilt pools in Dabi’s stomach, even though none of this was really his fault. But he can imagine Hawks arriving at the scene, seeing Dabi’s body plummeting to the ground, rushing in to save him but not knowing if he will make it... Yeah, he definitely owes his boyfriend ice cream. Or an all-you-can-eat visit to KFC.

“Sorry.”

“You’re such an idiot,” Hawks continues, his voice heating up, his grip getting even tighter. “You’re so fucking lucky we got here in time. If we hadn’t... What were you even thinking?”

“Hey,” Dabi says, removing himself from the nice embrace and straightening up to be able to meet his boyfriend’s eyes. “I was thinking that I’m supposed to be a hero, right? I saw a kid needed help, so I helped. It’s not like I was planning to fall off the roof.”

Hawks scoffs. “Since when do you care about other people?”

“Didn’t you want me to?” Dabi cocks an eyebrow. He doesn’t know how they went from hugging to fighting so quickly, but it kind of sums up their relationship pretty well.

“Not at the expense of your own safety, dumbass!” Hawks throws his hands, looking exasperated that he even needs to explain something like that. “Where is Eraserhead? Shouldn’t he be keeping you from doing shit like this?”

“He’s probably still under tree number six,” Dabi can’t help but mutter to himself and it’s only a lil bit bitter.

“…what?”

“There was a problem with our meeting spot,” he explains, too tired to get into details. “I stumbled upon this mess before we were able to meet up. I’m sure he will come here eventually.”

Hawks stares at him blankly for an uncomfortable amount of time. “This is so not how internships are supposed to go, I hope you know that.”

It makes Dabi snort. “What are you, my mum?”

Dabi says it as a joke, but since his life tends to be a joke in general, that’s exactly the moment when another, way more unwelcome, voice joins their conversation.

“Touya!” Endeavor’s looming presence gets closer and closer until the man is standing right behind Dabi’s back, sulking Bakugou clutched safely in his arms. Unwillingly, Dabi turns around to face him, ready for an inevitable argument, but what greets him is not the usual sneer. It’s... worry?  “Are you alright? Have you been hurt?”

…what?

Blinking dumbly while also pinching his arm to make sure he’s not dreaming, Dabi opens his mouth to say something witty but all that leaves is, “Uh... I’m fine?”

He must have heard wrong, right? There’s no way Endeavor is actually concerned, instead of mad or condescending – especially not after that pitiful display of incompetence, with needing to be saved himself as the cherry on top. Did his father decide to borrow something from Dabi’s well-hidden drug stash? That’s the only logical explanation he can think of.

“Well, that’s good,” the man says, awkwardly. As though reading Dabi’s mind, he’s expression quickly turns sour. “But what on earth were you thinking? Why would you involve yourself in that fight? Why are you here alone? Where’s that hero that’s supposed to be your mentor? I knew I should not have allowed you to intern with someone so incompetent. I—”

“Oi, old man, let me go already!” Endeavor is interrupted by Bakugou’s frustrated growl, his tiny fists banging against the man’s tree-trunk of an arm uselessly.

“Quiet, child. You’ve caused enough trouble,” Endeavor says sharply, making the boy flinch but not waver in his attempts at getting free.  

Ignoring the slight against Aizawa, Dabi first glances at the sad remains of the villain that are just being taken care of by the police, then back at his father and the child struggling to escape his clutches. He’s glad to see the boy seems mostly unharmed, but he’s still pissed at him for causing all of that shit-show, so he doesn’t say anything to help him.  

“I don’t have to explain myself to you,” he states, perhaps childishly, crossing his arms over his chest. “Like you said, you aren’t in charge of my internship. There was nobody else who could help, sorry I didn’t feel like watching a child get murdered in front of me when I could have done something about it. Besides, I had permission this time. And I had it under control.” He pauses to send Bakugou a pointed glare. “Everything would have been fine, if that brat listened to me and stayed out of my way.”

Alas, nobody seems placated by his words. Well, it was worth a try. 

“Fine?! Fine?! You fell off the roof! You didn’t have it under control, you—you could have died! If we hadn’t gotten here in time, you—!” Endeavor cuts himself off, then takes a deep breath, seemingly to calm himself down. Only now does Dabi notice his hands shaking slightly. After he exhales, his face forces itself into a stoic mask, anger apparently contained. He clears his throat, although he still sounds mildly constipated as he continues, “I apologize. I did not mean to yell. I am proud of you, son. Truly. From what I’ve seen, you did save many lives today. It’s just... when I imagined you finally becoming a hero... I suppose I didn’t realize how stressful that would actually be.”

“Whatever,” Dabi mumbles, very pointedly ignoring Hawks’ annoying grin. “I will try not to fall off any more roofs. Happy?”

Impossibly, Endeavor smiles slightly at that. Endeavor. Smiles. “I will be grateful, yes.”

“Are you done talking now? Can you finally let me go?!”

Endeavor glances down at Bakugou with confusion, as though he forgot the boy was even there. The boy meets the hero’s gaze defiantly but, this time, Endeavor puts him down without a fight. The moment Bakugou’s feet are on the ground, he scatters away from the man but doesn’t run off like Dabi is half expecting him to. Instead, the boy stands in front of him with his head hung low, shuffling his feet anxiously.

“...thanks for saving me, I guess,” he mumbles, obviously embarrassed. It’s a stark difference from how he was back on the roof though, after Dabi saved him for the first time, so he knows this time it’s genuine. “’m sorry... I didn’t think anyone would get hurt because of me.”

“Yeah, you generally don’t think much, do you?” Dabi snarks, but, against his better judgement, he can feel himself warming up to the kid. “Well, all’s well that ends well or something. I’m not gonna waste my time lecturing you, I’m sure your mum has it covered. You almost gave her a heart attack, poor woman. Just try to think a bit more before you do something next time, yeah? I get that you want to be a hero, but you’re still a kid. Cool quirk or not, you need way more training before you can take on a villain like that.” 

The brat has the audacity to roll his eyes at that, but in the end Dabi is the one to get the last laugh, because almost instantly after he’s done talking, as though she somehow heard him, Bakugou’s mother is suddenly right behind them, panting and trembling, and unimaginably furious.

“Bakugou Katsuki, I am going to murder you,” she declares, although the threat is somewhat lessened by her shaking voice and tear-stained face. And also by the fact that she immediately falls to her knees and wraps the boy in a bone-crushing hug, hiding her face in his hair. “You stupid, stupid child. Do you have any idea—? Why would you even—?” At loss of words, she only squeezes him tighter, enough for the boy to let out a slightly uncomfortable grunt. “Never do anything like this again, you hear me? Never. And you’re grounded. For the next twenty years.”

“Sorry,” Bakugou repeats, even more subdued now, obviously shaken by the sight of his mother in such a state. She seems like the bold, explosive type of person, much like her son, so seeing her so shaken, pale-faced and crying, must be a real shock. Perhaps enough to make the brat think more about his actions in the future, although Dabi doubts that.

Sniffling, Mrs. Bakugou slowly stands up. She wipes at her eyes with one hand, the other gripping her son’s wrist, clumsily attempting to compose herself. When she’s done, she first assesses all three of them with her red-rimmed eyes and then unexpectedly bows almost in half.

“Thank you for saving my son. I don’t know how I can ever repay you.” She straightens back up, her gaze focusing on Dabi. “Especially you. He would be dead if it wasn’t for you. All these other damn bastards were just standing there watching but you acted. You saved him. You risked your own life for him. There are no words to express how much I owe you. If there’s anything I can do, anything to show my gratitude, just say the word, I will do whatever I can.”

Dabi blinks, trying very hard to stop the blood rushing to his cheeks. In the background, Hawks continues to grin at his misfortune like a traitor he is. The phantom memory of Shigaraki is cackling like a hyena in the back of his head.

“It’s fine, really,” he says, unusually bashful under the intensity of her gratefulness. He needs to fight an urge to look away from her. “Don’t worry about it. There’s no need to—” he pauses, struck by a sudden idea. He doesn’t have to do it, it’s none of his business, he probably shouldn’t meddle but... Well, someone said something once about being a hero and meddling in things you don’t have to. And even though Dabi still isn’t really keen on this whole ‘hero’ idea, he is not disinclined to some meddling. “Actually,” he corrects himself, shooting what must be a rather evil grin at baby Bakugou, “there is something I would like you to do.”

“Touya,” Endeavor warns, eyebrows furrowed. “Heroes don’t ask for compensation.”

“Shut up, I’m not talking to you,” Dabi snaps at his annoying sperm donor – what is he still doing here anyway? shouldn’t he be making some reports or something?  – causing both Mrs. Bakugou and baby Bakugou to gawk at him in shock. He smirks at them, ignoring Hawks who is rolling his eyes fondly at the display. “So?”

“Yes, of course. Don’t worry, Mr. Endeavor, it’s alright.” She looks at Dabi expectantly. “What can I do for you, dear?”

“Well, it’s not for me per se.” He shrugs, tilting his head a little. “See, it’s a strange coincidence, but I’ve actually met your son before. I was out shopping with my brother and we run into your son and this other kid, Midoriya.” Dabi tries not to feel too satisfied at the way the brats eyes suddenly widen comically in realization. “Katsuki here was acting pretty mean towards that kid, enough so that my brother felt the need to intervene. It didn’t seem like an isolated incident too, from how terrified Midoriya was of him. Real nasty business. Shouto, my brother, he doesn’t have many friends, you see, but he seems to have hit it off with Midoriya and I think it would make him much happier if his friend wasn’t constantly nervous about getting bullied. So, if you want to thank me for saving your son, make sure he stops that, would you? I’m sure it will benefit Katsuki too, in the long run. I mean, bullies can’t exactly be heroes, can they?”

And if he side-eyes his father as he says that, who’s going to blame him?

“Softie,” Hawks whispers gleefully. Dabi resist the urge to shut him up. Preferably with a kiss.

Mrs. Bakugou, on the other hand, appears truly shocked. At her side, baby Bakugou refuses to meet anyone’s eyes, seemingly fascinated with his shoes.

“What? Katsuki... bullying Izuku? But they’ve always been such good friends!” The woman frowns, glancing down at her son. “Katsuki, is that true? Have you been mean to Izuku?”

The boy refuses to answer.

“I would say calling him a ‘useless quirkless nobody’ and a ‘friendless reject’ qualifies as mean, but I will let you be the judge of that,” Dabi offers helpfully.

To her credit, she actually looked disappointed in him. “Katsuki! I can’t believe this!”

“Well, it’s true!” the brat attempts to defend himself weakly.

“No, it’s not! Oh god, I will have to apologize to Inko, I had no idea...” She turns back to Dabi, expression determined. “Thank you for letting me know. I will make sure this stops – you have my word.”

“Great.” Dabi nods. “Then we’re even.”

She hesitates. “Are you sure that’s all you want?”

“Yup.” He offers her a smile. “I’m generous like that.”

She returns his smile, then bows again, forcing her son to do the same. The two bid them goodbye, adding another thank you or two, before finally leaving, Mrs. Bakugou marching her son towards one of the ambulances that have since arrived at the scene.

Just as Dabi is about to relax, foolishly thinking that confrontations are over and he might get to rest a little, the three of them are swiftly approached by a big middle-aged police officer with his younger partner a few steps behind.

“Excuse me, Endeavor?” The man has a bushy moustache and thick eyebrows that give him this distinctive old-timey detective kind of vibe. Despite who he addresses, his narrow grey eyes are focused on Dabi – because of course they are, he cannot get a fucking break, huh – observing him sharply like a hawk. When he speaks, his voice is polite but forceful, leaving no room for argument. “Could we interrupt you for a minute?”

“Of course.” Endeavor nods, although his muscles tense noticeably when he notes the attention on his son. “How can we help you?”

Oh, Dabi has a feeling he knows exactly where this is going. The uniforms, the disapproving stares, a pair of handcuffs hanging off the policeman’s waist – all of that gives him a unique kind of déjà vu. Hopefully this time they won’t manhandle him so much.

The second officer, a blond woman, offers them a small smile. “We would like to ask you a few questions. It won’t take long.”

Dabi lets out a resigned sigh. Hawks materializes at his side in an instant, squeezing his hand reassuringly, while staring down the older officer. Like this, he kind of resembles a guard dog. Or a guard bird, if there even is something like that.

“Just make sure it’s quick,” Endeavor grunts, rather impolitely. Either he really doesn’t like this particular guy – but then again, who does Endeavor actually like? – or he’s that pissed about being bothered. “We have an internship to get back to.”

“Ah, yes, of course.” The man takes out a notepad, but instead of writing in it himself, he hands it over to his partner, who immediately takes out a pen and prepares to write. “That’s a good starting point. These boys, are they your interns?”

A grimace twists his father’s face. “Just this one.” He points at Hawks with his chin. “The other one is my son though.”

He really doesn’t have to sound so fucking proud while saying that. There’s nothing to be proud of. Any idiot can get his dick wet – it’s what you do after the kid is born that matters. You can’t be proud of someone who only is who he is right now despite growing up around you. Not that Endeavor’s peanut-sized brain would be capable of grasping that.

The officer strokes his magnificent moustache. “Son, huh? Yes, I can see that.” Ugh, rude. Maybe Dabi should invest in some contact lenses? That would help, right? “If not with your father, then who are you interning with, young man?”

“With Eraserhead. You probably don’t know him,” Dabi replies flippantly, keeping his expression unimpressed. Hawks squeezes his hand again, as if to remind him to behave. Mother hen.  

The officer only huffs, chuckling slightly. “Of course I know him, he’s a frequent visitor at our precinct.” Seriously? Hero work, teaching, police work too? Just when exactly is Aizawa doing all that? Especially if it seems like his only activity recently is stalking Dabi? “I didn’t know he was taking interns though.”

“He’s making an exception.”

“Exception for an exceptional student, huh?”

The way this man says that, with a cocked eyebrow and a bit too amused undertone to his voice, makes Dabi strongly believe that he has seen the training tapes that showed Touya’s less than spectacular performance. The tapes that should only be available for pro heroes. But then again, corruption is the police’s middle name, isn’t it? He shouldn’t even be surprised.

“If you could get to the point,” Endeavor demands gruffly.

“Right. Touya – can I call you Touya?”

“No.”

“Tell me, Touya, if Eraserhead is your mentor then why isn’t he here? The witnesses tell us you engaged in a fight with a villain and used your quirk on him, all without supervision. Why wasn’t he here to stop you?”

Already disliking this dude – and ugh, it’s another thing he and Endeavor apparently have in common, which sucks – Dabi scoffs rudely at his stupid question. He’s not going to let them frame him for a crime he for once didn’t commit. “We got separated. I was on a phone with him when I saw this kid needing help. Heroes weren’t doing anything, so I asked if I could engage and he gave me permission. I didn’t do anything illegal.”

The man’s scrutinizing gaze feels as if it’s trying to burn a whole into him with its intensity. Thankfully, Dabi is well used to annoying old men trying to burn him and so he meets his eyes with no hesitation, holding the contact until the officer finally blinks.

“Paramedics tell me the villain suffered some pretty severe burns,” the officer continues, his tone light but clearly insinuating. “I’ve heard before about your affinity for violence. Is that really what a hero student should be like?”

“What should I have done to a gigantic King Kong knock-off trying to murder a child? Politely ask him to stop?” Dabi rolls his eyes, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “You think he would listen? Or, maybe, it was necessary to hurt him in order to save innocent people?”

“From what I’ve seen, it seems more like you were the one needing to be saved,” the man says, smiling condescendingly. “Perhaps, in the future, you should not involve yourself in fights if you’re unable to finish them.”

“Now—” Endeavor starts, but Dabi cuts him off instantly. Last thing he needs is his father fighting Dabi’s battles.

He smiles sweetly at the pig scum, a picture of innocence. “Sorry, I don’t remember seeing you fight, Mr. I-like-to-pretend-my-job-isn’t-completely-useless. Didn’t make it into a hero school, did you? But you know, taking your frustrations out on children is rather pathetic. Perhaps you should find yourself a hobby.”

The way the asshole’s face immediately darkens looks a lot like victory. Even the slight pain from Hawks elbowing him warningly isn’t enough to wipe the satisfaction off of Dabi’s face.

“You should be careful, child. If you’re planning to be a hero, you should not make enemies of public officials. Especially when you’re so prone to ending up on the wrong side of the law. Indeed, one could even start worrying whether that attitude of yours isn’t more akin to a villain than a—"

“Enough,” his father cuts in, voice harsh, expression cold. Like this, large, pissed and on fire, Endeavor paints quite an intimidating picture, enough to shut the pig up. “You will not speak this way about my son. For all we know, the burns might have come from me. Touya is far from polite, but he didn’t do anything that would break hero laws and he did have his mentor’s permission to use his quirk in a fight. I apologize for his words, but calling him a villain is distasteful and I will not hear it. Now, we’ve answered your questions, so I don’t think there’s anything else for us to talk about.”

“Just one more thing,” the officer says, visibly offended but somehow not discouraged, only this time his attention is on Hawks, who’s been hovering over Dabi protectively all this time. “What’s your name, son?”

Hawks seems startled at being addressed. There’s a barely noticeable moment of hesitation when he almost says something else but then he clears his throat awkwardly and says, “Takami Keigo, sir.”

Both the asshole officer’s and his partner’s eyes widen slightly, although the man composes himself almost immediately. “Takami, you say? You wouldn’t be related to that famous thief, would you?”

“It’s none of your business,” Dabi finds himself snapping, feeling his boyfriend’s body tense.

But, unfortunately, Hawks is way too used to being treated without any respect for his boundaries.

“Babe, don’t be rude. It’s just a question,” he scold him gently, once again squeezing his hand, but this time it doesn’t have the previous calming effect. Then, ignoring Dabi’s silent seething, he focuses back on the policeman. “Yes, that would be my father.”

The man’s bushy eyebrows travel up almost to his hairline. “And you’re training to be a hero? Bet he doesn’t like that very much.”

“How should I know? Haven’t seen him since I was five,” Hawks replies dryly and although he appears unaffected by the topic, Dabi can feel how strained his body is and how ruffled his feathers start getting.

Fortunately for everyone’s sanity – and the man’s worthless life – this is the moment Aizawa chooses to finally get his ass here, trying to look like he’s not running towards them but also definitely running towards them. His expression when he takes in the scene – the enormous unconscious body of a giant bear-man, the destroyed street, the crowd of police officers trying to get this shit sorted out and, of course, the Number Two Hero and two teenage boys arguing with a pair of annoying dunderheads  – is priceless, so much so that Dabi contemplates taking a photo and making it his lockscreen.

“Ah, you made it,” Dabi says with a grin, earning himself an unimpressed glare from the man. “About time. You missed all the fun.”

For some reason, Aizawa’s frown only deepens. “What did you do?”

Gasping in offence, Dabi places a hand on his heart. “Me? Why would you think I did anything?”

“He almost got himself killed, that’s what he did,” Endeavor interrupts sharply, his piercing blue eyes narrowed in distaste. Only, it’s different than his regular annoyed face – if Dabi didn’t know any better, he would call his father’s attitude protective.

“What?” Aizawa asks sharply, his entire attitude immediately shifting into complete seriousness, his eyes scanning Dabi’s body intently as though searching for injuries. “What do you mean? What happened?” 

For all his supposed concern, Endeavor looks way too smug as he regards the younger hero with barely hidden contempt. “Touya attempted to save a child, but was overpowered by the villain and pushed off the roof. We only managed to save him by a miracle. Which you would know if you had been here.”

Aizawa pales slightly – as much as it’s possible for someone who sees the light of day perhaps four hours total a month – his body stiffening, and although his expression doesn’t betray much, Dabi winces inwardly at the obvious flash of horror in his eyes.

“I—” the man tries to respond but, of course, Endeavor isn’t done.

“You’re supposed to supervise him, not let him jump into any danger he sees,” he continues in the most obnoxious tone imaginable. “It could have ended in tragedy if we didn’t get here in time. You’re still young yourself, Aizawa, so I understand that you might not be experienced enough to realize all of this, but, with my son’s safety at stake here, I don’t know if I can in good conscience allow this internship with you to continue…”

“Alright, stop right here, because that’s bullshit,” Dabi jumps to his ‘mentor’s’ defence. Both officers look abashed at his rudeness in addressing his father – why, he has no idea, it’s not like he’s been very respectful to anyone so far – and somewhere on his side Hawks can be heard sighing heavily. Endeavor’s face gets pinched, but since he’s the one who brought this onto himself, Dabi doesn’t feel sorry for him at all. “I was the one who made the decision to fight. Eraser knows me well enough to realize I would get involved whether he agreed or not.” He pauses briefly as he realizes his mistake, glancing at the officer, who cocks an eyebrow, looking far too vindicated for Dabi’s liking. Well, fuck it, he’s already said it, it’s not like he can take it back. “So, obviously, he chose the option where I wouldn’t get in trouble. It’s not his fault I did it. It’s not like he could have stopped me.”

Aizawa might not be very fun at parties or just very fun in general, but he did help Dabi when no one else would, both with Toga and his own problems. As annoying and stalkerish as his behaviour can get at times, it wouldn’t be a stretch to say that he’s one of the few people Dabi would almost call a friend. Especially since, for the most part, he’s never really treated him like a child and allowed him a lot more respect than anyone else would have done in his place. Not to mention that, for a hero, Aizawa is just a surprisingly decent person in general and probably doesn’t deserve to get punished for Dabi’s recklessness.

“He could have stopped you if he was here and not god knows where,” Endeavor grumbles, but even someone as thick-headed as him has to realize the truth in Dabi’s words. After all, shouldn’t his father know best that no prohibitions have ever stopped him before?

Aizawa opens his mouth again, probably in order to defend himself, but Dabi really doesn’t like other people joining in on his arguments with dear old dad, so this time, he’s the one to cut the man off.

“I told you before it was my fault we got separated.”

(...he will have to talk to Rei about keeping this whole missing email thing a secret when he comes back. Assuming she won’t immediately ground him forever for daring to almost die, which is a real possibility, mental adult or not.)

Because Dabi’s life can never be easy, Aizawa stares at him with very visible confusion. Damn, does that guy has no acting skills at all? Dabi’s trying to save his skin here from the horrifying wrath of Mr. I’m-Only-Concerned-About-My-Children-When-It-Suits-Me, the least he could do is nod along and not give the lie away.

Noticing that his father continues to be unconvinced – is being irritatingly stubborn some kind of family trait? – Dabi reaches for the heavier ammunition. “Even if you forbid me from finishing my studies with Eraserhead, I still won’t work with you. And this way I won’t have my internship done, so I will fail school. You don’t want me to fail school, do you?”

Somewhere in the background the moustache man and his partner can be seen shaking their heads and looking at Endeavor with pity, probably thanking whatever higher power there is that Dabi isn’t their child. Hawks must have given up on participating in this conversation, because he’s hanging off Dabi’s shoulder and playing Flappy Bird on his phone, feathers from his wings tickling Dabi’s neck. Aizawa’s expression is stuck somewhere between disbelief, anxiety and irritation as he watches the events unfold.

Endeavor, on the other hand, goes through the entire five stages of grief in that short moment, starting with his face getting red and his fists clenching at his sides, shifting to him growling and opening his mouth as if to scream, then stopping himself and taking a few calming breaths, only to end with his shoulders dropping, resignation replacing the initial anger. Dabi’s honestly impressed with his self-control. He has been expecting his father to start shouting basically from the moment he first felt Hawks’ arms on his waist.

“Fine, you can finish your internship with him,” he amends eventually, although he sounds pretty bitter about it. At least this time Dabi didn’t have to bring up the years of physical abuse to get his way. Progress? “But if anything like this happens again, I won’t be so easily convinced, is that clear?”

“Nothing like that will happen again,” Aizawa finally joins the conversation, expression hardened. “Touya won’t leave my side even for a second from now on. Right, Touya?”

Ugh, the harsh tone. Dabi hates the harsh tone.

“Sure, sure.” He raises his hands in defeat. “Crystal clear or whatever.”

That’s when Hawks finally perks up, putting his chin on Dabi’s shoulder and pining Endeavor down with his intense gold eyes. “Finally! Now that all that’s solved, does that mean we can go now? I’m getting hungry.”

“You’re always hungry,” Dabi feels the need to point out.

Hawks pokes him in the ribs as a response, not very gently. “No one asked you.”

“Oh no, abuse,” Dabi deadpans, grabbing his boyfriend’s wrist to stop the assault. The sneaky bastard only intertwines their fingers together though and somehow Dabi ends up holding his hand instead.   

Next to them, Endeavor flinches slightly but no one pays him any mind.

“Well, my father was a villain,” Hawks purrs into Dabi’s ear, chuckling darkly, a bold joke that catches Dabi off guard.

“What a coincidence,” Dabi says lightly, determined not to make a big deal out of this unusual show of dark humour, all the while fighting a sudden shiver his boyfriend’s breath on his skin is trying to elicit. “So was mi—"

“Hawks, I thought you wanted to go,” Endeavor interrupts in a clipped voice, his eyes meaningfully averted, presumably as to not have to look at his son flaunting his gayness around in public. Is he going to say anything homophobic? Who knows. But he’s certainly thinking it. “We still have many cases to take care of.”

Abandoning Dabi without a second of hesitation – once traitor, always a traitor – Hawks turns to Endeavor, head titled and eyes narrowed, looking every bit a dangerous predator that Dabi knows he can be. “Food?”

Endeavor fidgets, mouth quirked in distaste. “We don’t have time to waste. And I’m not a charity so—”

“Food?” Hawks repeats, more threateningly.

Gritting his teeth, the man nods his head in resignation. “Fine. We can stop at McDonald’s.”      

It’s impossible not to laugh at the way Hawks looks so deeply betrayed at the mere suggestion.

“…are you trying to insult me?”

Endeavor squints his eyes. “Is it working?”

Not long after that, the officers – who for some reason have stuck around for all of this – finally take their leave, although not before informing them that they might be summoned for additional questioning at a later date and warning them to hurry in vacating the area to allow for proper clean-up. His father and Hawks, driven by the latter’s hunger, bid them goodbye soon after, Endeavor with a curt nod and a promise (threat?) to talk more at home as well as another order for Aizawa to be more responsible with him, and Hawks with an obnoxious kiss that quickly turns soft by the end, filled with remnants of desperation and terror. It’s only once the strange pair is already walking away, having abandoned Dabi to bear the brunt of Aizawa’s thoroughly disappointed glare on his own, does he find himself thinking that maybe he should have just failed that math test when he had a chance.

***

“So, let me get this straight. You saw a giant bear mutant with enough strength to throw cars wreaking havoc in the streets and decided to… defeat him on your own?”

“I wasn’t planning to defeat him, I was just going to save that idiot kid. It’s not my fault the brat brought his attention to us because he wanted to play fucking hero.”

“And yet, instead of just diverting his attention, grabbing the kid and running, you decided to engage him in full battle that, apparently, ended with you getting thrown off the roof? Please, explain to me, what on earth possessed to you think this was a good idea?”

Dabi attempts not to roll his eyes too heavily at the question. He knows it’s mostly concern making Aizawa so prickly, along with frustration at himself for not being there. Probably exhaustion too – the man’s face is deathly pale, more than usually, and his hair looks like it hasn’t seen a comb in years. Still, even though they’ve only been acquainted for a relatively short amount of time, Aizawa should know that ‘a bad idea’ is basically a description of Dabi’s entire life.

They aren’t anywhere particularly interesting right now, just a simple Italian restaurant some friend recommended to Aizawa recently. After all the excitement from before the man decided that Dabi has had enough of heroing for today – which, fair – and instead took him for early lunch so they could talk. Although ‘took him’ is a bit of a stretch since he has also made it clear that Dabi will be the one paying for it, as recompensation for all the stress he’s caused.

“I never said it was a good idea.” Dabi shrugs, takes one of the breadsticks from the little basket they’ve been given and starts munching on it lazily. “It was just an idea.”

“An idea that almost got you killed, let me remind you.”

“I’m not dead, am I? So it’s fine.”

“It’s not fine.”

Aizawa’s face twists angrily, his fist banging on the table, not hard enough to attract anyone’s attention but enough to spill some of Dabi’s lemonade. There is a moment of silence for a few seconds before the man realizes what he’s done, blinks, pulls his hand back and hides it under the table, looking guilty.

While kind of feeling bad for upsetting him so much, Dabi also has to stop himself from chuckling. Does Eraser think he’s so traumatized he’s going to get scared from some minor violence?

“It’s definitely not fine,” Aizawa continues, still rather harshly, although clearly controlling himself more now. “You were lucky that your boyfriend got there in time. That’s all. Luck. If not for it, we wouldn’t be talking right now.”

Against himself, Dabi looks away in shame. It’s a difficult truth to accept – that he really fucked up. That he was this close to losing his second chance at life. Sure, it technically wasn’t his fault, he didn’t intend to fight the villain, he was doing something objectively good, but so what? None of that would mean anything to the people left behind to mourn him.     

“And that’s not all,” Aizawa keeps going, his penetrating dark gaze not leaving Dabi even for a moment. “Even if you didn’t die, even if you were ‘only’ crippled for life, who do you think would have taken the blame for that?”

“You,” Dabi mumbles quietly, head hung down.

He understands, he truly does. And yet, the feeling of bitterness won’t leave him alone. Why is he constantly being berated for trying to save people – for trying to act like a hero everyone allegedly wants him to be? It’s not like he meant to get hurt, it was an accident, something he couldn’t possibly have planned for. Perhaps he overestimated his abilities when deciding to involve himself in that fight, but what else was he supposed to do? Let it happen? Watch a kid die? Just because there was a chance he might get hurt? With that philosophy, no hero would ever be able to do anything. It just doesn’t make sense.

As though sensing his feelings, Aizawa sighs and leans back on his chair, expression softening.

“Look, I’ve seen a lot of your skill during our… nightly meetings.” Oh god, this sounds so bad. Dabi really hopes no one is listening in, because they would definitely get the wrong idea. “And that’s why I know you’re a capable fighter. I don’t think you’re weak. But even you can’t take everything on by yourself. This is one of the traits of a good hero, you know? Knowing when to act and when to call for backup, even if the cost are lives.”

“Wait, are you actually telling me I should have let the kid die?”

For someone who’s actually younger than Dabi, in that moment, Aizawa looks incredibly old.

“I’m not saying that. But after you saved him, after you were both on that roof, with an escape route available, why didn’t you run?”

Dabi frowns. “That useless hero was down and with nothing else to keep his attention, the villain turned to that crowd of dumb idiots who stayed behind to watch.”

“And you thought that if you kept his attention on you, you could save those idiots?”

“Basically, yeah.”

“Well, here you go. You shouldn’t have done that. Not when you knew you couldn’t completely defeat him on your own and had no idea whether reinforcements were coming.”

“But people would have died,” Dabi points out, still rather confused.

“Yes,” Aizawa says, with much less emotion one would have expected. “People will die; you can’t save everyone. That’s the cruel reality school usually forgets to teach. You save whoever you can save without putting yourself in danger you can’t deal with. You asses your own skills and act accordingly. What do you think would have happened if your father had been ten minutes late? Not only you would be dead, but the crowd and this kid you were trying to save would be too. All your effort, your sacrifice, all that would be in vain.”

Dabi can only stare at the man wide-eyed. Well, when you put it that way...

“The things is, as a hero, but especially as a student, your own safety must always come first. If you don’t understand that, then I can’t trust you as an equal. This is why interns rarely get to do anything heroic. We know they’re still children and children do stupid things. I thought you were mature enough to understand that, especially after what happened with that girl who stabbed you, but perhaps I was mistaken.”

Mature. It’s such a strange word. What does it even mean? Dabi has always thought it was a bullshit label. You can be mature enough to murder a person and not blink an eye, but then someone will call you childish because you like to bicker with your boyfriend. Maturity as a concept sounds too subjective to be worth giving a damn about it.

But philosophy aside, as much as he hates to admit it, it does make sense. It’s way more pragmatic and down-to-earth than how people usually talk about heroes’ work, but that’s understandable – it would not fit with the idealized perception of heroism most of their society seems to have. And perhaps it should make Dabi even more bitter towards heroes, even more convinced of their fakeness, but how can he when he can so easily imagine Bakugou’s body crushed by the bear-man’s giant fist with Dabi’s remains splattered on the ground right next to it? What’s the point of having heroes if all of them die on their first mission?

He can see now, why Aizawa is so disappointed in him. He’s assumed from the very start that the man has seen him take on criminals before and therefore would treat him more like an adult than a clueless child that most of his classmates still are. Fuck, he’s boasted about it too, how they’re going to be stuck making coffee while he will actually be fighting. And Aizawa did give him that trust. Only for Dabi to go and almost get himself killed on the first day, risking not only his own safety but also Aizawa’s reputation as a mentor and hero. This is not how he wanted to repay the man for all his help.

“I’m sorry.”

Sighing, Aizawa rests his chin on his palm and begins flicking through the menu. “You’re lucky I didn’t just kick you out immediately. Most heroes in my place would.”

“Yeah, especially pressured by Endeavor,” Dabi finds himself replying, only a little bitterly. His own menu lays in front of him unopened, a strangely-looking dish he couldn’t name even with a gun against his head staring at him from the front page.

“I’m not afraid of your father,” Aizawa insists, rolling his eyes. His finger pauses on some dish name that read upside-down sounds like an introduction to some satanic ritual. Or maybe that’s just Italian in general. “I’m not publicly known, I don’t care for the rankings, up until yesterday I didn’t even have an official agency. There’s not a lot he can do to me.”

“Why didn’t you, then?” he asks before he can stop himself. Stupid fucking mouth, moving without his permission. “I mean, I’m sure it would be easier for you to just get rid of me now.”

Expression as indifferent as ever, other than a slightly cocked eyebrow, Eraser huffs. “Life would be pretty boring if we always chose the easiest route.”

Before Dabi can scoff at this motivational bullshit and demand a real answer, a waitress approaches their table. It’s a young girl, with two bouncing pigtails and a sunny smile, a notebook and a pen ready in her hands.

“Hello! Welcome to Non So Italiano! Can I get your order?”

Um, no. No, she can’t. Dabi’s not ready yet. They’ve been having a serious conversation, it’s not like he had enough time to decide!

“Of course,” Aizawa, the traitor, says with a polite nod. His face might remain blank, but Dabi knows that inside the man is smirking at him smugly. This must be his revenge. “I will have one Finocchiona e Carciofini, one Spaghetti Aglio olio pepperoncino and one Pasticcio di cioccolato for dessert. Thank you.”

The waitress writes it all down with no problem, nodding along the way. Once she’s finished, she repeats all these nonsense words and asks if everything is okay, to which Aizawa replies affirmatively. Still smiling, the girl turns to him.

“And for you?”

Mind blank, Dabi stares at her in fear for much too long and then just gives up, mumbling a pathetic, “The same.”  

Well played, Eraser. You’ve won this round. Dabi just hopes there’s no fish in any of that.

Having taken their order, the waitress promises to bring their food as soon as possible and finally leaves them alone. Glaring at the menu in front of him – and maybe a little at Eraser too – Dabi slumps back in his seat, defeated.

“Something wrong?” Aizawa asks, letting his amusement slip in a slight upturn of the corner of his mouth.

“No.”

“You sure?”

“Yup.” He isn’t going to get prissy about something like this. He isn’t. Because he’s mature enough. Like an adult. “Nice weather we have today, wouldn’t you say?”

Unfortunately, Aizawa seems to not be a fan of small talk. His smug expression turns serious again and he clears his throat before talking.

“I want to make clear that this is the last time I will tolerate this kind of behaviour. I understand that you feel the need to save people, it’s what makes you a good hero. We all feel this need. I was young too and I made my fair share of stupid decisions, so I can’t judge you too harshly. But it’s the second time you have almost died and I will make sure it’s the last one, no matter what.”

“Why do you care?” Dabi says, provocatively, even though he doesn’t really want to fight. He knows Aizawa likes him, probably treats him like some kind of fucked up younger brother or something, or maybe just a kid that’s under his care, whatever the case, it’s not weird that he wouldn’t want him to die. Being antagonistic whenever there’s any talk about feelings is Dabi’s defence mechanism though and so he doesn’t shut up like he probably should, “If I want to risk my life, shouldn’t I have the right to do that? It’s my choice.”

Surprisingly, or maybe not so much, Aizawa doesn’t raise to the bait, as though he knows that Dabi doesn’t truly mean it. Still, his eyes darken, his lips pressing together tightly.

“You’re right. It’s your life to risk and I can’t stop you if you want to do that. But I do have a choice whether to condone such behaviour or not and I’m telling you that I won’t. You can do with that knowledge whatever you want. Call me cruel, but I’m not going to watch you kill yourself.”

“I’m not trying to kill myself—"

“It makes no difference,” the man interrupts harshly, then takes a deep breath. “This isn’t about heroing. It’s about you and me, and whether I can work with you anymore.”

“I don’t understand.”

Aizawa sighs again. “This isn’t a story I like to tell. But I suppose you deserve an explanation. When I was still in high school, I had a friend. Best friend, really. This friend, he was everything: brave, powerful, kind and helpful to a fault. I always felt like he was so much better than me, so much more passionate, more suited to be a hero. But I didn’t hate him for that. I admired him. I wanted to be like him.”

Dabi keeps quiet, recognizing that this story isn’t just your regular motivational tale. There are shadows of the past flashing through Aizawa’s face, painful ones, his eyes seeming awfully far away.

“We were doing our work studies together. I wasn’t confident in my abilities at all, but he would always cheer me on and give me advice. One day, we were patrolling together, when a powerful villain attacked the city. He took out our mentor before we could even blink. There was no time to think, only to act. My friend jumped in to save a group of kids without a second thought. It was the heroic thing to do, after all.” Here, Aizawa’s voice turns a little bitter. “I have no idea how I managed to defeat the villain but I did. I barely remember the fight because all I could think of was making sure my friend was fine.” There’s so much emotion in his voice, more than Dabi has ever heard in their entire time knowing each other. “The kids survived, in the end,” he adds as if as an afterthought. “But my friend didn’t.”

“I’m... sorry,” is all Dabi can say, feeling extremely uneasy. He knows this isn’t the right thing to say, but he feels the need to say it anyway.

“I know what he did was right, morally,” the man continues, although his tone contradicts his words. “Heroes save people. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he let these kids die right in front of him. I don’t—I don’t blame him, he didn’t make any mistakes, and he was so good, of course he had to save the kids, but—” Here, his face hardens. “But he was just a kid too. And he didn’t have to die.”

Biting his lip, Dabi thinks about something to say. There isn’t a lot a person can reply with to a story like that.

“Perhaps I’m selfish,” Aizawa adds, even more quietly, “but I don’t care. I won’t watch another person I care about die. Another child, hero student or not. Even if it’s the ‘right’ thing to do. I just can’t.” Aizawa pins him down with a hard look. “I don’t want you to end up like him. I don’t want to have another life on my conscience.”

“You won’t,” he promises, his throat suspiciously dry.

“I hope so.” The hero’s muscles relax as he leans back on his chair more comfortably, the edge to his voice disappearing. “For some reason, I have taken a liking to you. Even if you’re one hell of a problem child.”

Dabi’s stifled laughter is interrupted by the waitress coming back with their orders. She quickly puts down their meals, once again saying the name of every dish as if Dabi suddenly developed an ability to understand witchcraft, and once she’s done, she wishes them a good meal and leaves, as quickly as she appeared.

Carefully scanning the plates in front of him, Dabi decides there’s no reason to prepare a revenge plan. All of the food looks and smells delicious. There isn’t even any fish in it! Eraser must truly mean it when he says he likes him.

They eat in companionable silence, only accompanied by the background noise of silverware clicking against the plates and murmured conversations. The restaurant isn’t very packed at such an early hour. Aside from theirs, there are only about three other tables occupied, all by boredly normal people, couples or families, or lunch-time business meetings. Dabi would feel self-conscious sitting in such a mundane place in his ridiculous hero outfit even on a normal day, but right now, with his clothes torn and stained with dust and blood, he’s surprised he’s even been allowed inside. Must be some weird hero-bias.  

During the short lull in their conversation, Dabi entertains himself by staring out of the window. Most of the people passing by are completely unremarkable, going through their everyday routines: friend groups laughing, adults with phones pressed against their ears, the occasional elder hauling shopping bags. Just by looking at them, you could never tell there was such a great villain attack just a few blocks away no longer than an hour ago. It’s almost scary how used people have become to constant violence.

He’s just about to glance away when he catches the sight of a young boy, maybe six or seven years old, walking with his father and giggling about something. The kid is dressed in a Gang Orca t-shirt and is carrying a limited edition All Might backpack on his small back (do not ask Dabi how he knows that). The father is wearing a business suit and doesn’t seem to be listening to whatever the boy is talking about, his face cold and distant, which makes Dabi dislike him instantly. Maybe it’s wrong of him to judge a person just by one look, but the sight reminds him of too many bad things to really care.

It also reminds him of what he was supposed to talk to Aizawa about.

“I know this is probably not the best moment for that,” he starts, twirling some pasta onto his fork. “But I wanted to ask for a favour.”

Aizawa looks up from his food, intrigued but wary. “What kind of favour?”

“Do you think you could get me a meeting with All Might?”

He holds his breath, waiting for the inevitable reaction – probably a laugh, considering everything – but not backing down. This is something he owes Shigaraki, even after the bastard tried to kill him the first time they met. Both times.

Caught off guard, Aizawa blinks and stops chewing in the middle of a bite. Then, he swallows hastily, his expression turning into a grimace.

“If you want to complain about your father to someone, I assure you All Might isn’t the right person.” To think of it, the man’s face looks really sour. Like, unusually so. Is it possible he has a beef with All Might as well? What did he do to make enemies of both Number Two and Number One? Dabi will need to investigate. “And why would you think I could get you a meeting with him anyway? It’s not like I know him.”

Not yet, maybe, Dabi thinks to himself with some amusement. Come to think of it, Aizawa has never expressed much sympathy for All Might, not publicly and not during those few times he has met the man on the battlefield. But then again, he hasn’t really expressed much sympathy for anyone.

Despite that, Dabi finds it hard to believe that he truly can’t do it. Of course it must not be easy, getting the most popular hero to listen to you, especially if you’re not in the top ten, but Aizawa just seems like the kind of person who can achieve the impossible.

(He better be, because the only alternative is asking his father and Dabi can’t see that conversation going very well.)

“You work at U.A.,” Dabi states the obvious, making sure his expression conveys his doubt well.

“Many people do. And I assure you, most of them don’t have All Might on speed dial,” Aizawa says dryly.

“Most of them wouldn’t be able to get the U.A. nurse to come to their house in the middle of the night too, I bet. And yet.”

Aizawa exhales heavily, rubbing his temples. “Why don’t you just ask your father?”

“Because I’m not suicidal.” Not anymore, anyway.

“Fair.” The man eats silently for a moment and it stretches for so long that Dabi almost thinks the topic is over, but then Aizawa sighs again, putting away the fork with much more strength than necessary. “What would you possibly need to talk with All Might about?”

“I can’t tell you,” Dabi says carefully, knowing that this answer will definitely not help him with convincing Aizawa to agree. He plays with his half-eaten food as he tries to find the right words. “It’s not my secret to tell. Besides, you wouldn’t believe me even if I told you.”

“If you’re trying to convince me, you’re doing a poor job.”

A humourless chuckle escapes his mouth. “Sorry. It’s really hard to explain. All I can say is that it’s very important.” Here, he turns serious. “Call me dramatic, but the future of the word might depend on me getting this information to All Might as soon as possible. The future of one kid definitely does.”

A deep frown appears on Aizawa’s face, earlier indifference replaced by concern. He must have realized this isn’t a joking matter. That, for once, Dabi is absolutely serious about something. Hopefully this shock value will drive him to agree.

Before the hero can say anything, Dabi decides to push the issue, keeping the eye contact between them. “You at least know the U.A. headmaster. If you can’t, he should be able to contact All Might. Ask him. Please.”

“Listen, if there’s something bad going on, if someone is in danger, you need to tell me,” Aizawa says harshly, his body tense and alert as if he’s expecting a villain to suddenly jump out of his spaghetti. “We can—”

“You can’t do anything about it,” Dabi interrupts, annoyed with the man even if logically, he knows he’s expecting a lot of trust here. After all, officially, he’s only a child. What important knowledge could he have, especially important enough to bother All Might about it? “The only person who can help is All Might. Get me a meeting with him quickly and, hopefully, no one will get hurt.”

Dabi might hate All Might for partially being a reason his father decided to ruin their lives, but even he can’t deny that the man is a decent hero. That’s what Stain thought at least and his ideas were generally right. He definitely isn’t flawless, but someone who hid a fatal injury for so many years just to be able to keep saving people deserves some benefit of a doubt. Dabi just hopes he will listen long enough to believe him.

After another tense moment of quiet, Aizawa finally nods. “Alright. I will try. But I’m not promising anything.”

“That’s all I ask,” Dabi says, sending the man a small grateful smile. “Thank you.”

“I should have arrested you when I had the chance...” the man grumbles unhappily, to which Dabi laughs so hard he ends up spilling the rest of his lemonade all over his pasta.

After that, they finish their meals in silence.      

Chapter Text

Their meeting the following morning for the second day of their fun little internship, fortunately, goes without a hitch. It seems like Aizawa is bent on ignoring yesterday’s events, which Dabi is not going to complain about, and they fall easily back into their usual routine.

Although, judging by the darker than usual circles under his eyes and a generally displeased expression, Aizawa is likely starting to regret offering Dabi this internship anyway. Every other second the man has to stifle a yawn, rubbing at his eyes when he thinks nobody is looking. He hasn’t expressed his feelings verbally yet, but he really doesn’t need to – it’s more than obvious this whole thing is messing with him, only adding strain to his already fully-packed schedule, what with his main hero gig, his additional teaching job and taking care of a small child. But hey, it’s not Dabi’s fault that the requirements for this force them to do at least half of the work during the day. He would be more than happy to stick to their usual practice of nightly activities and not have to be seen in public all hero dressed-up like that, thank you very much. Especially since his main costume got destroyed during the King Kong fight and so he had no choice but to wear an even worse DIY version him and Rei hastily put together yesterday evening – after she was done lecturing him about safety and putting her heart at unnecessary risk.  

“There should be a grocery store at the next corner,” Dabi mentions casually, hands in his pockets, as they walk through a crowded street, ignoring the occasional curious stares their obvious hero attires attract. “We could buy you an energy drink.”

“And why would we do that?” Aizawa twists his head to stare at him in almost believable confusion, but the effect is ruined by yet another yawn wrenching out of his mouth.

“I don’t know, maybe because you’re about to fall over any moment now?” Dabi quirks his eyebrow and rolls his eyes, exasperated. He isn’t supposed to be the adult here. “I’m not dragging you back home if you do.”

“I’m fine.”

God, for someone who spent so much time talking big about responsibility and being able to properly judge your own capabilities, Aizawa sure is a hypocrite.

“No, you’re not.” Dabi huffs, kicking an empty plastic bottle someone left in the middle of the street. It hits some businessmen-looking guy’s legs and he shoots him a vicious glare that Dabi responds to with a smirk. Aizawa sighs in defeat and offers a quick apology for his ‘idiot student’s behaviour’. Dabi pokes him to bring his attention back to the topic. “What you are is annoying. And believe me, if I, self-proclaimed most annoying person in the world, am the one saying that, then you should know it’s true.”

For some reason, Aizawa doesn’t deem it worth a reply.

They walk in silence for a while, observing the people around them, officially in search of any villain activity but truly, at least in Dabi’s case, mostly judging the population’s frankly disgraceful outfits. Because so far all they do is wander around the city, occasionally tripping some petty thieves so they would fall on their faces and let go of a purse they snatched from some poor lady or helping a lost tourist find their way. Turns out, in these times, with All Might still shining brightly as the Symbol of Peace, there isn’t a lot of flashy villain attacks going around – yesterday more of an exception than a rule. And on the rare occasion that some big attack does happen, it is usually swiftly taken care of by the highest-ranked heroes, with no need of itty bitty interns getting involved – again, yesterday somehow not included.  

A few minutes of walking later Dabi pauses in front of the aforementioned store, meaningfully gesturing towards the entrance. He almost feels like a parent trying to persuade their sulking child to eat his vegetables.

“No,” the hero says stubbornly, attempting to walk by the store without a pause.

Dabi, who along with annoying is also a self-proclaimed most stubborn person in the entire world, doesn’t move to follow him, leaning against the wall of the building and crossing his arms. Aizawa continues to walk away. Unbothered, Dabi pulls out his phone to check if Hawks has texted him anything. Aizawa still doesn’t turn around, almost disappearing behind the corner, probably expecting him to give up and chase after him. But Dabi is an older brother – he can play this game. Eventually, the man will have to come back. It’s his job to babysit Dabi – even if it really appears to be the other way around right now – so he can’t just leave. All Dabi needs is some patience and a round or two of Candy Crush. 

While he’s waiting for his ‘mentor’ to stop being an immature idiot, some young kid, a girl around eight or nine, spots him and starts pulling on her mother’s pants excitedly, grinning and pointing a finger at him. Looking up from his phone, Dabi mirrors her grin and waves at her, which makes her even more delighted, if the loud squeal is anything to go by.

“Mum, it’s a hero! A real hero! He waved at me, did you see?!”

Her mother sends her a fond smile and ruffles her hair. “I saw, sweetheart.”

The girl shows off her tooth gap in another wide smile. “I want to be a hero too! I’m going to kick every villain’s ass—!"

“Now, now, what did I say about using such language?” Dabi snorts to himself at the woman’s exasperated tone, observing them with interest until they disappear into the crowd.

Still smiling to himself, Dabi goes back to staring at his phone and sees some new messages from ‘chicken nugget <3333’. What a great timing. His boyfriend really is the best.

FROM: chicken nugget <3333

ur father is so mean

he made me do all the work :((

‘it’s so you can learn’ no it’s because u hate me

Dabi laughs as he reads it, not feeling sorry for Hawks at all. Didn’t Endeavor use to be his favourite hero? Let him see what he’s really like. Especially since he chose it for himself.

(Well, technically Keigo chose it, but whatever. It’s still funny and deserved, in Dabi’s humble opinion.)

TO: chicken nugget <3333

haha suffer

FROM: chicken nugget <3333

babe :((

He’s about to type an answer, shaking his head with affection, when he feels someone’s presence nearing in on him. Looking up, he’s met with a very irritated Aizawa who’s glaring at him as if he’s the one acting unreasonably here.

“Have you finished your tantrum?”

Aizawa grits his teeth. “I can still fire you.”

“Sure you can.” Dabi smirks at him, pocketing his phone and bouncing back from the wall. “Although I remember you saying something about the easiest solutions not being the most interesting.”

“You’re making me question this statement,” the man deadpans, scrunching his nose in disgust.

Still laughing, Dabi searches his pockets for a stray credit card and directs his steps towards the entrance of the store. Once he’s just about to go inside, he turns his head to Aizawa.

“Regular or white Monster?”

Predictably, his only answer is another glare. He gets both, just in case.     

***

Some time later, with a little more energy in them thanks to the heavenly drink – and no, this is not an ad for the Monster drink, (unfortunately) no one is paying him to say that – they find themselves in a less crowded area of the city, where traditional houses replace the usual shiny skyscrapers. It’s almost time to finish for today, yet there have been no interesting cases of any kind to tend to. Dabi can’t wait until they can switch back to night shifts – there’s definitely way more crime happening after dark.

They take a turn that’s going to take them back to where they began so they can split up and go home. On the other side of the street from them, there’s a small school. Middle school, if the ages of the students outside are anything to go by. The building itself seems rather unimpressive, with scrapped walls full of graffiti, depressingly grey colour palette and doors and windows that haven’t seen paint for at least two decades. The students wear uniforms but in most cases it’s clear they are either bought second-hand or hand-me-downs from older siblings. Which makes perfect sense – the neighbourhood they’re in isn’t well-known for its wealthiness. The kids seem happy enough though, running around and laughing or sitting together with books spread between them, smiling and pushing each other playfully.    

“What? Missing school already?” Aizawa asks mockingly, a single eyebrow raised in question as he notices what has caught Dabi’s attention.

“As if,” Dabi scoffs, tearing his eyes away from the ugly building and forcing himself to continue walking.

“Hero work is very taxing,” the man continues as if he didn’t hear him, a small smirk playing on his lips. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you wanted to go back. It must be so much easier, only lazing around in class and chatting with your friends…”

“Easier?” Dabi stops in his tracks, staring at the hero with disbelief. “Have you ever heard of math?”

“Of course.” Aizawa’s little smirk is now turned into a full shit-eating grin. “It was my favourite subject.”

Dabi physically gags at hearing such a horrifying revelation – and to think he had any respect for this man – and just as he’s about to turn around and leave, unable to work with someone so deranged even a second longer, he notices a commotion happening somewhere on the other side of the street.

“What the…?” He squints his eyes as he observes a group of kids forming a circle around something, presumably a person, their faces full of contempt and a particular kind of sadistic glee that Dabi is way too familiar with.

Are these kids truly so stupid, attempting to bully someone this openly, basically in front of their school, where any teacher could easily see them?

(Then again, in his experience, teachers don’t tend to give a shit about bullying most of the time. So maybe the kids are not so stupid after all. After all, what’s the point of hiding if getting caught bears no consequences?)

Somewhere behind him, Aizawa tsks with displeasure. “I hate bullies.”

“Same here,” Dabi grunts, already cracking his fingers. But then he pauses and sends the man a questioning look. “...are we allowed to get involved?”

Aizawa mulls it over for a moment, his expression hesitant. “It’s not exactly within out jurisdiction as heroes if it’s happening on the school grounds. Teachers should take care of that.” Dabi can  feel his expression darken, wholly dissatisfied with the answer even though he’s been expecting it. Luckily, Aizawa isn’t done. “But... as a regular citizen, nothing’s stopping you from intervening.” He ostentatiously checks his watch. “Oh, would you look at that, our internship is over.”  

“What a coincidence,” Dabi matches the man’s innocent tone, grinning menacingly.

Before he can take off though, Aizawa lightly grabs his shoulder and pins him down with a serious look. “You can go, but remember, these are just kids. No burns, no bloody noses, no broken bones.”

Dabi gasps theatrically. “Who do you take me for?“ But then he glances back at the increasingly heated commotion and his expression sours. “I’m not making any promises.”

Aizawa sighs, but lets him go. After waiting a short moment for the cars to pass, Dabi crosses over and marches towards the circle confidently, clenching his fists to rein in his temper. It wouldn’t do to end his second day of real hero work with having to explain why there are multiple burns on some nasty brats.

The closer he gets to them, the better he can hear the insults they’re throwing at their victim and oh boy, does it make him even more pissed-off. It’s still impossible for him to get a good glimpse at the person they’re crowding around – they must be quite short – but he’s beginning to get an idea.

“Stay away from my sister, you mutant freak!” one of the boys yells, sneering. “You’re going to infect her with something!”

The rest of the kids all nod, letting out various noises of affirmation. Dabi’s blood boils in his veins at the blatant discrimination. And from people so young too.

“She—she wanted to talk to me,” the weak voice of their victim is barely heard over everyone else, but it’s still admirable that he tries to defend himself faced with so much malice. “I didn’t force her!”

“He’s even lying like a little snake!” the same boy exclaims, pushing his target harshly, which makes him yelp and, judging by the following grunt, fall to the ground. “She would never want to talk to someone like you! Stay away from her, do you hear me?!”

“How about you stay away from him, hm?” Dabi interrupts harshly, arms crossed over his chest as he regards them all with a thunderous look.

His sudden appearance startles them, making them spin around with various expressions of surprise or annoyance at being disrupted. This in turn allows Dabi to finally see the object of their cruelty – and he almost chokes on his spit when he does.

The boy half-sitting pitifully on the ground is undoubtedly a mutant-type when it comes to quirks, a lizard mutation to be exact. A familiar one, especially paired with bright pink hair and similarly pink eyes. Dabi is kind of feeling like he’s a part of some very elaborate prank right now. Is that even possible for so many unbelievable coincidences to happen to one person in such a short amount of time?

“What do you want?” The main bully raises his chin defiantly as he attempts to look down at Dabi. Which is hard, when he’s at least a head shorter. “It’s none of your business.”

Feeling lightheaded all of the sudden, Dabi slowly points at his hero costume. “A bunch of assholes bullying an innocent kid sounds exactly like my business.”

“We’re not bullying the freak!” one of the girls bristles, her face daring to look offended. “We’re just showing him his place!”

Spinner, because he can’t be anyone else, whimpers quietly as he sloppily attempts to stand up. “It—It’s fine. Really, you don’t have to—”

The same girl snaps her head around to give him a vicious look. “Shut up, he’s not talking to you!”   

Spinner curls in on himself, flinching away from her crisp tone. He can’t be much older than twelve, Dabi finds himself thinking. There’s still so much ahead of him, years of discrimination turning him bitter, broken, desperate enough to burn all the bridges and turn to villainy without a second thought. Is this how it began, with school bullies? Or has he been an outcast ever since he was born?

Society tends to be cruel in general, but to those with mutant type quirks, quirks that make them look too inhuman, too animalistic or beastly, it is downright vicious. And the prejudice against them is often imbedded so deeply it doesn’t feel like prejudice at all. Dabi is ashamed to admit he also exhibited some of this bias at first – that Twice had to pull him aside at one point and tell him to stop calling Spinner ‘Lizard’ because of how rude that was. He remembers listening to the stories Spinner would tell them, how some people even refused to serve him at a restaurant because they feared he would ‘scare away other customers’, how his voice would shake just a little bit as he struggled to hide how much that affected him, and feeling so guilty and so angry, at himself and at society, for allowing these biases to exist in the first place. And, later, he remembers itching to burn down the Commission every time Hawks would get embarrassed about his bird instincts, every time he would be forced to hide his true self as to not offend his fans’ fragile sensibilities.   

So it’s not that Dabi doesn’t understand, somewhat, where these kids’ attitudes are coming from. It’s just that he knows, from personal experience, that sometimes people need a good shake to break away from their harmful views.

“Really?” he asks, coldly, pinning the brats down with the most piercing look he can muster. “And what, pray tell, is ‘his place’, hm?”

“Away from us normal people!” another kid chimes in, making poor Spinner flinch again.

Dabi rolls his eyes, even as his chest burns with fury. Patience. You’re trying to teach them something. They can’t learn if they’re dead.

“That’s rich, coming from someone with wires for hair,” he remarks, eyebrow raised mockingly.

“That’s different!” the same girl as before argues when it becomes clear the wire-haired boy doesn’t have a response.

“How is it different?”

“Riku is human!” the first boy, the one who seemed to be the ringleader, is the one to answer. He throws a disgusted look at the increasingly distressed Spinner. “This is a freak. My mum says monsters like him can eat people! I don’t even know why they allow him to go to school with us, it’s dangerous!”

“That’s not true—!” Spinner attempts to defend himself but is interrupted.

“We’re not bullying him, we’re defending ourselves!” someone else says, nodding in agreement. “If he hadn’t tried to harass Sayuri, we wouldn’t be doing this. None of us want to be so close to him anyway.”

“I wasn’t harassing—!” Spinner tries again, voice more and more wobbling, desperate.

“I told you to shut up, lizard,” the girl sneers, raising her leg as if to kick him and, okay, fuck it, Dabi is done playing nice.

He grabs the girl’s arm and yanks her back, preventing her leg from connecting with poor Spinner’s ribcage. She stumbles, trying to wrench away, and then glares at him when she can’t. Dabi’s more than happy to return her glare with one of his own.       

“Fine. You won’t listen to reason, so we will do this the old-fashioned way,” he says, the cold in his voice contrasting with the small flames he allows to coat his free hand. “Get the fuck away from him or you will regret it. Not just now, permanently. No name-calling, no violence, no ganging up on him. I will know. And you won’t like the consequences.”

“Please,” the ringleader drawls, voice over-confident, even as his eyes dart towards Dabi’s flames uneasily. “You’re a hero. You can’t hurt us.”

Dabi narrows his eyes dangerously at the challenge, then, after quickly glancing around to make sure there are still no teachers around, lets his mouth curl into one of his ugliest smiles. Even that’s enough to make most of the kids suddenly take a step back, but Dabi’s not a drama queen for nothing. He lets the flames engulf all of his left arm while heating up his right just enough for the girl he’s still holding to hiss and stare at him in alarm.