Chapter Text
“It’s taking a while.”
Dabi glances over to where Toga is sitting against a metal bin, her knees pulled up to her chest. He hums softly in agreement and looks back at the entrance to the warehouse. As much as he doesn’t enjoy admitting it, he is a little worried about Twice. He frowns at the feeling, deciding this is the annoying side effect of being around heroes. Emotions. Right now, the only one that would be consistently useful is anger.
“While we wait,” Shigaraki says, idly scratching at his neck, “Dabi, tell us something else you learned.”
He leans his head back against the wall, thinking for a moment. “I could tell you about Midoriya’s new gear,” he offers. When nobody objects he continues, “New boots, new hearing aids, upgraded goggles, and a whip. The boots can become roller skates now, for some reason.”
“That sounds kind of fun,” Magne says, leaning on her magnet as she watches Dabi. “Is he any good?”
Dabi shrugs. “Not terrible, last time I saw him, but still learning.”
“So they slow him down,” Mr. Compress says.
“For now.”
“Get on with it.”
He glances over at Shigaraki, giving him a look telling him to be patient. “Anyway, roller skates, but still has rockets, too. The whip has pretty fast retraction. Everything else is about the same, other than that.”
It’s not exactly helpful, but he can’t help that the upgrades didn’t really do much, all things considered. Still, it does mean they can be somewhat prepared if they run into Izuku again.
“I bet he looks cute when he’s skating. His blood probably pumps harder, too,” Toga says, licking her lips as she speaks.
“You’re a psycho,” Dabi tells her.
“How sweet of you to say.”
The door to the warehouse creaks then, cutting off any other response as it opens fully to reveal Twice and another person. Dabi assumes this is Overhaul, the leader of a mafia they’re trying to ally themselves with. Twice stops a few feet away from the other League members. “Here he is,” he says, immediately following with, “And it took him long enough, too.”
Shigaraki shrugs and tilts his head to the side, studying Overhaul for a few seconds. “Let’s get started, then.”
The couch squeaks a little whenever Izuku shifts around, unable to keep his leg from bouncing for more than a few seconds. Across from him, Tasuko is watching silently. They’ve been like this for almost three minutes now. He knows because he’s been watching the clock above her.
After a few more seconds, she adjusts her clipboard in her lap and says, “You seem a bit on edge today, Izuku. Would you like me to use my quirk?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“Then would you like to tell me what’s bothering you?”
Izuku grimaces and looks down at his lap, knowing it’s probably ridiculous, all things considered. “I….I’m waiting, I guess,” he replies.
“For?”
“The next bad thing?”
She pauses, looking up from her clipboard to meet his eyes. “The next bad thing? Do you know what that is?”
“Well, no, but I know it’s coming. It feels like I can’t have too many good days without something happening to make it….crazy, I guess,” Izuku explains.
“Would you say you’re paranoid, Izuku?” she asks.
Is he? It doesn’t feel like paranoia, not really. He feels more like this is a fact. Something bad is going to happen. As much as he tries not to think that, it’s true. He sighs and nervously runs a hand through his hair, suddenly wishing he’d thought to bring along one of the snowflakes Shouto had made him. Gosh, that feels like ages ago.
“Izuku?”
He blinks and looks up, smiling apologetically. “Sorry, um, I don’t know. I don’t think so. Hmm, do you know the saying ‘Hope for the best, prepare for the worst?’ That’s what this feels like, but I’m too focused on the preparing part.”
Tasuko slowly nods, tapping her pencil against the arm of her chair as she thinks. “I can see what you mean. We could try an exercise, if you’d like.”
“What kind of exercise?”
“Well, we’d map out the possibilities. On one side, there’s the absolute worst case scenario, on the other side is the best thing possible that could happen, and in the middle is something that’s not bad but not wonderful, just normal.”
Oh, that doesn’t sound too bad. Izuku takes a deep breath and nods. “Yeah, okay, that sounds good,” he replies.
Tasuko smiles warmly and nods, shifting in her chair so she’s leaning a bit closer. “Let’s start with the worst case scenario.”
The bed is huge, the blankets are warm, and there are numerous toys in the corner of the room. All things considered, it’s the kind of bedroom any little girl would be happy to have, even if it does get pitch black at night. She knows she should be grateful, should be happy that she isn’t hungry or on the streets or causing trouble for anyone else.
But is the big bed and toys and warm blankets worth the chair that waits for her nearly every day? She hugs the blankets close to her chest, just barely able to make out the bandages on her arms using the light from the hallway that’s streaming in under the door. The memories of why she has them try to push forward and she does her best to not think about them.
Nothing is worth that chair, she decides. If she could only get away, then she’d be able to survive on her own, she’s sure. Food might be coming from garbage cans and there won’t be any warm blankets to keep away the cold night air, but that’s fine. Just so long as she doesn’t have to stay here. And, if she can stay away from people, then nobody will get hurt by her.
The next chance she gets, she’ll take it, she’ll run as fast as she can. These thoughts of escape and fantasies of being free slowly lull her to sleep, chasing away the knowledge of what waits for her in the morning. For now.