Chapter Text
The villain could feel eyes on him long before he could make out the quiet pattering of footsteps across nearby rooftops.
I’m being followed.
He looked out onto the barren street – the dim streetlamps losing a battle to light it. There were plenty of places where he could easily escape into the shadows, provided he could get this stalker off his tail for long enough to do so.
But Dabi had places to be. He was already late for a meeting with the bird, and he was honestly quite curious to see what the number three – two, technically, but he refused to accept that – hero wanted with the League. So, he wasn’t about to go out of his way to run from some nobody who’s not even competent enough to stalk him without getting caught.
He slipped into the nearest alleyway, a smirk pulling at his features despite the strain of his scarring; it’ll be fun to let off some steam, anyway.
“Come on then.” Dabi murmured, glancing up and waiting for the figure of his pursuer to appear above him – peering over the edge of the roof, a shadow just barely visible against the night sky.
But the shadow never appeared. And, even listening intently, he found the footsteps were no longer audible. They must’ve stopped.
“Aw, don’t chicken out now.” Dabi taunted into the night. “You’ve already come this far, and I’d rather not be inconvenienced any longer.”
His gaze dropped to the entrance of the alleyway, ensuring no one was out in the street to hear him; it would be easier to get this over with provided he didn’t have to deal with any witnesses. After a few long moments of silence, Dabi slouched in his stance, irritation festering beneath scarred skin.
He never should have let his guard down.
“What are you wai- fuck!” Out of nowhere, the stalker was upon him: jumping down from the roof above and onto Dabi’s back, pulling their arm around him to claw at the staples holding him together.
It was less than a second before the assailant got blown back by Dabi’s flame with a shout of agony; still, Dabi could feel small amounts of blood dripping from where she’d managed to pry out a staple. And, oh, if that didn’t just make him livid. He relished in the sound of her pain as he dropped his gaze over her.
She was in wearing all black, he noted – like some half-baked idea of a costume – and she was smiling weakly as she clutched her burnt side with… are- are those hands glowing? Only a faint white light, but it was growing more intense by the second.
She was breathing heavily but seemed concerningly pleased with herself for someone about to be cremated.
“Gotcha.”
If Dabi ever allowed himself to get scared, that word would’ve sent a spike of nervousness through him. The glowing’s getting brighter, it’s getting brighter, it’s- “Who are you?”
She didn’t faulter under his glare, nor the way his hands erupted into balls of blinding blue fire. “I’m the one who’s gonna take you down, once and for all.”
He laughed. He wasn’t sure if he meant it. “Awfully confident a shitty little vigilante.”
“Huh,” She glanced down at her hands – now barely visible beneath the searing light emanating from them. “I guess I am confident, yeah.”
The vigilante moved to push her hands together – like that gravity girl did before she dropped a mountain on you. Dabi sent so many of his flames barrelling towards her that all he could see was blue.
It seemed he was too late.
Dabi’s world erupted into all-consuming pain.
It was like every cell was on fire, ripping itself apart into a million pieces. Like he was burning himself to ‘death’ all over again. The feeling came out of nowhere and suddenly he couldn’t see, couldn’t think. All he could hear was his own screaming.
Touya thought he was going to die.
However, almost as quickly as the sensation came, it went, leaving him breathless and with his entire body buzzing. He found himself on his knees staring down at the ground of some dingy alley that he didn’t recognise, his body trembling from the shock of the last few seconds.
“Huh, I didn’t realise it was dyed.” Touya’s gaze shot up to meet the crazed stare of a woman a few feet ahead of him. One arm clutching her side – she’s hurt, she’s burned. Did I- Is she okay? No, wait, where the fuck am I? That’s more important – the other arm was reaching behind her. He allowed himself a quick glance at his surroundings. It was night-time, how long had he been unaware?
“Who are you?” He questioned in a panicked, hoarse voice, quickly breaking off into the bone shaking cough he was all too familiar with by now.
“You can call me Timeline.” ‘Timeline’ pulled something from behind her back and that- that’s a knife. “No hard feelings, kid.” It was like he was trying to be sympathetic but couldn’t find it within herself muster up any actual sincerity. “This is for the greater good.”
He was going to die. He was going to die. At fifteen, Touya Todoroki was going to get stabbed in a back alley he didn’t recognise and bleed out and die. Honestly longer than he thought he’d last but he didn’t feel like dying today.
So, when the vigilante lunged towards him, he was quick to jump up and to the side and dodge the attack, internally searching his own mind for whatever dregs of Endeavour’s training he was yet to purge from his memory. Timeline’s momentum had her stumbling past him – leaving a prime opening Touya to jam an elbow into her uninjured side.
“Ah- fuck!” She grunted; she already seemed pretty injured, if he could hit her hard enough then he’d be able to incapacitate her. Before he could act on that extremely loosely laid plan, though, she swung her arm round, burying the blade in his. A cry of pain ripped through the alleyway.
“Better fighter than I thought, but still not enough kid.” Timeline taunted.
Pushing through the immense pain, Touya tried to focus.
I’m not dying here.
He’d barely used his quirk in months upon months. Not since… not since that day. At most, he’d occasionally heat the odd borderline-expired soup can. But in this moment, it was now or never. Exhaling a little too sharply to be natural, he focused the minimum power he thought he would need to take her within himself: moulding and manipulating the surge of energy that he could feel as palpably as the blinding pain in his upper arm as the vigilante yanked out her knife.
If there was anyone to pray to, he would’ve prayed that this time he would be able to control it.
Then he set his hand alight.
Shoving it into the same area of her ribcage he’d just elbowed, Touya told himself he really shouldn’t relish in her shout of agony as Timeline jerked away from him, dropping to the floor. “B- bastard!”
God, his hand burned. Combined with the stab wound in the same arm, it was torture. He had to get out of here. Find Aki. But the vigilante was far too fucking stubborn to go down without much of a fight, already trying to pull herself up.
He used his good arm to deliver a swift hook to her jaw that sent her down and added a kick to her stomach for good measure to ensure she stayed there.
Then he ran.
Well, it was more of a disorientated, desperate rush – hitting a wall every few seconds – but it wasn’t like anyone was around to judge.
Once Touya was a few streets away, and the adrenaline began draining out of his already weak body, it finally hit him that he had no idea where he was.
“Aki?” He whispered into the nearest alley. No response.
He was in a city, sure, but which one? He could not tell you.
“Aki?” He begged every shadow he thought might listen. None did.
Japan. That was something. At least he could read the street signs, even if he didn’t recognise the names.
“Akimitsu, goddamnit, where are you?” Distantly, Touya was aware he sounded desperate. And stupid. Calling out to someone who obviously wasn’t there with tears streaming down his face. But that small, ridiculous hope that his friend was just around the corner, ready to help him, was kind of the only thing keeping him from passing out from the pain and exhaustion ravaging his body at that moment, so.
He drew his good arm to his face – away from its current job of clutching the other one like the grip was the only thing keeping it attached to his shoulder – to wipe his eyes. As he did so, he turned the corner to be greeted with the view of a stretch of poorly lit beach. Though, Touya could hardly pay attention to that when he could see a figure around forty-or-so yards from him.
It was looking at him. It’s expression unreadable, especially in this low light.
It was leaning casually, impatiently, against a low barrier – wings tucked close to its form. Touya could just barely make out the Hero Public Safety Commission logo branded across its chest. His heartbeat pounded in his ears; it was the only thing he could really hear.
A pro hero.
With the little energy he had left in him, Touya turned and bolted the other way.
Keigo really did want to follow the kid. He did.
In fact, every heroic instinct in his body was screaming at him to do so. The kid looked injured, upset, and downright fucking terrified when they met eyes. There was something so damn familiar about him. Must’ve been a trick of the light.
However, Keigo was here for a purpose. And he wasn’t exactly thrilled by the idea of explaining to his handler why he ditched probably the only chance he had to infiltrate the League of Villains.
It was already past the meeting time, Dabi should be there any second. All Keigo had to do was force that nagging guilt out of his mind and wait.
…And wait.
…And- He wasn’t about to get stood up by a fucking supervillain, was he?
The hero stood there for over an hour, coming up with more and more creative ways to hide his growing irritation for when the villain inevitably arrived. But he never did.
Keigo had pretty much given up on tonight’s meet up and was walking back up the nearest street to find a covert place he could take flight from when someone appeared out of nowhere beside him and pinned him with unexpected strength to the wall. Knife to his throat.
For a moment he simply stared, shocked, into Toga’s manic, yellow eyes.
“Where is he?” There was a chilling tranquillity to the girl’s voice, though it was offset by the sheer amount of venom dripping from every syllable.
Instinctively, Keigo’s sharpened feathers came out to protect him – angled perfectly, ready to strike. A threat and a warning that he was just as dangerous as her.
“I wouldn’t.” Came an impassive voice from above. Keigo glanced up to see Kurogiri standing on a balcony, staring down at him from the next floor up. Next to him, crouched and leaning over the ledge menacingly, was Shigaraki. His own hands ungloved as others decorated his scrawny form. Keigo’s gulp was audible. (And he’s pretty sure he felt his Adam’s apple brush against Toga’s blade, holy shi-)
“What did you do with Dabi?”
His gaze returned to Toga. What? “What?”
“Don’t play dumb, Birdie. It’s not cute.” He had heard her glare was more murderous than her criminal record. Being one of the few people who’s seen both, Keigo would confidently call that an understatement.
“I did nothing. He never showed for the meet.” It was honestly impressive how steady he could keep his tone. He even managed a calm expression as Toga pressed the blade hard enough to draw blood while she studied him intensely.
She kept her eyes on him even as she talked to the others. “Think he’s lying?”
A pause, and Keigo could feel her breath on his face. It stank of old blood. With his feathers pressed against the wall, could sense the vibrations of Shigaraki tapping a bored rhythm against the brickwork – as if his touch couldn’t crumble the building in an instant.
“…No.” The decay villain jumped down from above, landing as gracefully as a goddamn cat – it was unnerving. “You wouldn’t be stupid enough to lie to us, now would you, Hawks?”
“‘Course not.” It’s only the entire point of this mission. Also, what the fuck is happening? “Dabi’s missing?”
Shigaraki hummed, disregarding Keigo’s probing. “We’ll be in touch. Don’t do anything stupid in the meantime.”
Kurogiri and a fresh warp gate appeared behind them a moment later. Chilling the air as the villains turned their back on him and headed towards it – Toga pausing for a moment to admire the line of his blood decorating the knife in her hand.
And for a brief second, it crossed his mind that this was his chance. The leader and right-hand of the LoV, as well as the most wanted teenager in Japan, were all right in front of him. He could arrest them now. Well, he could try at least.
But then he found Kurogiri looking at him, piercing through him with a simple stare. And he figured that idea might’ve been the sort of stupid thing Shigaraki was talking about.
The warp gate dematerialised, and Keigo slumped against the wall.
Atsuhiro Sako had always been one for the art of misdirection, but he only ever played with cards when he was either thinking or nervous. Mindlessly flicking the contents of an old pack between his fingers, in that moment and for the last half hour, he’d been both.
“How do you do that, Compress?” Muttered Spinner, mostly to himself, as he stared – mildly mesmerised – at Atsuhiro’s hands. Before he could answer, the opening of a warp gate in the middle of the wide room interrupted them.
Toga stormed through, placed a bloodied knife on the nearest surface with a reasonable amount of care, then proceeded to slump onto the too-worn couch and scream into a cushion.
“Toga? Are you okay? Don’t get drool on the couch!” Twice spoke as he and Magne ventured across the room towards her.
Shigaraki and Kurogiri appeared almost immediately after her, the former wearing a slightly more scrunched up version of his typical scowl and the latter flickering with stress almost imperceptibly.
“What happened?” Atsuhiro guessed it was nothing good as he gnawed at his lip beneath the balaclava.
“Did you kill the hero?” Spinner questioned, leaning forward in his seat.
“Ugh, no.” Toga whined, face still shoved in the cushion. “Was close though.”
“Dabi never showed up to the meeting with Hawks.” Kurogiri supplied. “He seems to be missing.”
“Oh no! I hope he’s alright! He’s probably dead.”
From there, the League erupted into a chaotic semblance of a conversation, an edge of worry decorating each of their voices. Theories. Plans. Where was their missing member? In the next minute or so, the only one who didn’t speak, Atsuhiro noticed, was Shigaraki.
That was, at least, until his commanding voice cut through the room, stopping everyone’s wild rambling in its tracks. “We’re going to find him. Dress inconspicuous. We’ll search this entire fucking city if we have to. And when we find that asshole, I’m gonna rip his staples out for ditching. Come on. We’re leaving.”
Not a single league member protested.
Divide and conquer: Kurogiri warped every member to a different part of town, some assigned to checking likely venues Dabi would be in. Mostly though, it was all just searching back-alleys and hoping the rising stress of not finding him didn’t eat you alive.
It wasn’t all that long before Toga sent an image of and empty alleyway with scorch marks decorating the ground and walls, accompanied by a small pool of dried blood.
The caption read: ‘north-west of birdie’s meeting spot. fresh blood. his.’
Atsuhiro tried to ignore the way his stomach twisted itself in knots.
It felt like he was trudging through an eternity of searching alleyways and side-streets and watching from vantage points and receiving a seemingly endless stream of ‘not here. not here. not here.’ texts through his phone. And it wasn’t that he’d given up or anything, but as Atsuhiro wandered yet another unassuming alley, he wasn’t expecting to find anything new.
Let alone a white haired, injured teenager passed out behind some bins.
The kid was hunched in on himself protectively, unable to contain his own shivering. Still alive, then. Even from a distance, it wasn’t hard to see the blood trailing down his arm, and as he got closer, he spotted the fresh burn on his hand.
No way Dabi did this. Atsuhiro assured himself. Dabi rarely hurt kids, and even if this was an exception, there wouldn’t be a body left.
Still, he examined the boy further, finding that his hand wasn’t by any means the only burn the boy sported. There were mismatched patches all over his body, peaking out from under his shirt and climbing up his face. Barely healed. Not quite as bad as Dabi, but far closer to him than to the average, unscarred body.
(Atsuhiro pointedly dismissed the voice in the back of his head screaming the obvious answer because no fucking way.)
He was aware that Dabi dyed his hair, but the villain was always quite attentive to his roots; Atsuhiro had no idea what his natural hair colour was. He really didn’t want it to be white.
He dared to tap the kid’s uninjured arm, not getting much response. “Hey, hey. Wake up. You shouldn’t be out here alone when you’re injured, kiddo.”
Bright blue, horrendously tired eyes slowly blinked open, glazed in their stare. Atsuhiro’s heart stopped.
Once remotely aware, the boy attempted an aborted flinch back at the sight of someone in his personal space but found himself too exhausted and messed up to do anything more – only succeeding in hitting the back of his head against the brickwork before sliding his eyes shut again. His stuttered breathing was slow. Way to slow.
After a long moment frozen to the spot just staring ahead at the half-dead, miniature, definitely-definitely-not-Dabi, Atsuhiro found himself numbly standing from where he had crouched and pulling out his phone.
“Fuck.” Was all he could manage to say to himself before Shigaraki picked up.
“Compress?”
“Is Kurogiri with you?”
“Why?”
“I’m here. What is it you need?”
“I think I…”
“Spit it out, Compress.”
“…I’ll send you my location. Come see for yourself.”
Compress hung up before any response could come down the other end of the line and sent the location tag across quickly. After a moment’s silent debate, he squatted back down and gently scooped the teen into his arms. The quiet, fearful protest and weak fight against his hold did nothing but make the cracks in Atsuhiro’s heart a little wider.
“I’m not gonna hurt you, kiddo. I swear.”
He carried the boy to the mouth of the alleyway and waited for a warp gate to open and someone to help him figure out what the hell to do next.
[GROUP MESSAGE: TOGA; SPINNER; TWICE; MAGNE]
Shigaraki (04:17): Drop your locations. Kurogiri is coming to get you.
Dabi thought he was going to die.
He hadn’t felt like this since he was thirteen and unable to keep himself from burning alive in his own flames.
However, as soon as the feeling came, it went. And despite the pins and needles sensation running all over his body, he was up and ready to fight that vigilante bitch in a matter of seconds.
But she wasn’t there.
Instead, he was faced with something arguably much more terrifying than the woman who thought herself the exactor of his own demise. He stared into wide, stunned and mildly horrified purple eyes.
He stared at Akimitsu Ito, alive and in the flesh.