Chapter Text
No one was supposed to be here. Dabi was careful, he always made sure. No one should have even witnessed, let alone been caught in the middle of the absolute disaster that was his coping mechanism. This was the only thing that was successful at releasing the pressure from all the rage and hurt that constantly pulsed inside him. Or perhaps it was inaccurate to call it a release. More precisely it was letting just enough of the pure unbridled hatred that filled him up to leak through the cracks where his skin barely held to his body so that he wouldn’t explode when Endeavor wasn’t there to be caught in the crossfire. Either way, he was always careful in his selection. Older buildings that were predominantly made of wood and plaster and things that could burn bright and wild. Run down buildings that no longer were wanted, that no one would miss. Remote buildings that he could be long gone from before anyone even noticed the flames, let alone come to investigate. Better a strategic pyromaniac than an incarcerated one.
He would get as close to the center of the building as possible to light the fire, the very heart of the structure. A small but intense blaze was all that was needed – it would grow bigger and bigger as it was fed, until it was all-consuming. He liked to watch from afar as the blue tongues of flames lick their way up dilapidated beams and burst out windows with the force of their glorious blaze. And then he would turn his back and leave, relishing in the chaotic, raw power that he created. Never acknowledging the smoldering charcoal remains collapsing in on themselves when they could no longer endure the heat, when the fire finally consumed even itself. So yeah, no one should have been here for this disaster, not even him. And yet.
The flames were just getting to the point where they could be considered out of hand. That is, the moment the flames finally looked like they were dancing - leaping from beam to beam, darting up old curtains - at last having the space and freedom to pop and spark and crackle in any way they fancy. With what could only be called a dangerous smirk on his lips, Dabi thought to find his way to the nearby rooftop that he’d scouted as the perfect vantage point to see the paint curl off the sides of the building and the blue tongues taste the outside air. He spun around to leave only for the smile to instantly drop off his face. Standing in the room that should have been empty was none other than Todoroki Shoto. The eye roll that possessed him was as aggressive as it was involuntary. Of course. Of all people, it had to be Shoto.
“What an unexpected surprise,” he quipped. “I’d say pleasant, but we both know that’s not true.” Shoto’s mouth was pressed into a tight frown as he dropped down into a fighting stance. Blue flames danced dangerously around them, growing wilder by the minute, and Dabi narrowed his eyes as he continued. “What, just you? I’d have thought you’d bring the whole idiot brigade.”
Ice suddenly hurtled towards him as Shoto flung out an arm, anger flashing in his eyes. “Don’t talk about my friends like that,” Shoto practically snarled. So, he’d grown a bit of a spine since their last meeting. Dabi dodged to the side, smirking in satisfaction as the chunks nearest to him steamed away into nothingness under the intensity of his blaze. Endeavor wanted Shoto more, and for what? Some ice chips that Dabi could melt without a thought? Pathetic.
“So they did teach you not to fight fire with fire,” he mused. Provoking his younger brother, Dabi found, brought a special kind of glimmer to his eyes. “It’s too bad, I’d rather see the whole world burn.” He curled his lips to show as many teeth as possible, pulling at the staples on his cheeks. The manic smile complimented the reflections of blue fire dancing in eyes as he let flames flare up intensely from his hands. He sent a blast to the side, letting Shoto take the bait before zeroing in on his next move. In an instant he crossed the space, grabbing the younger boy who could only cross his arms in defense before being slammed into the wall. With Shoto’s arms pinned between them, Dabi could practically taste the fear. It’s more fun to play with your food when it struggles. “This once though, I’ll settle for burning just one person, as long as it’s you.”
Shoto bared his teeth and bucked wildly in an attempt to free himself. While the desperate squirming did allow him to connect his head with Dabi’s face, Shoto didn’t succeed in much more than pissing the older off. Insolent brat he thought with a sneer, shifting to grab Shoto by his vest straps and slamming him against the wall a second time. He felt great satisfaction when Shoto’s head bounced hard off the wall and the boy slumped a bit in a daze. Looking back, he thinks he really might have killed Shoto right then if he’d had just a minute longer, caught up in his mania. He already tried once after all, why not finish the job? Instead, both of them froze as they heard a sickeningly loud crack from above. He caught Shoto’s wide eyes as they both realized what was happening. Get out now Dabi’s mind raced as he practically threw Shoto to the side. His eyes flicked to the exit only to see a very large, very thick block of ice. Fucker. And then the building came crashing down on them.
His head is pounding. Did Shigaraki convince them to raid a liquor store again? With the way the world feels like it’s spinning before he’s even opened his eyes, this has to be his worst hangover yet. His ears are ringing a bit too, that’s a fun new symptom he didn’t know he could get from alcohol poisoning. He tries to curl up to find a position that will make the throbbing in his skull stop when reality crashes back in on him. Building. Burning. Shoto. Fighting. Crack. Fucker… Fucker. Not alcohol, definitely concussion. He hopes that little shit got crushed to death. If the building’s come down, there’s no time to waste then. He groans heavily and starts to heave himself up when suddenly he catches on something and flops back down with a grunt. His arm can’t move, it’s heavy and cold and stuck to the floor, and there’s a bit of a rough scrambling noise and… okay, so the asshole wasn’t crushed then.
He lets flames race up his arm and breaks from the ice easily, standing much faster than he probably should and whips towards the menace that is his younger brother, who is about to be extra crispy. The world lurches and he almost falls back down when ice races up his leg, accidentally bracing him as Shoto yells, “Wait!” Dabi snarls and ignites that limb too, free once again and moving to close the space between them. More scrambling followed by a second panicked shout, “Oxygen!” That makes him pause, or at least the increased pounding behind his eyes with all the yelling does. A look around has the situation finally settling in on him. As he quenches his flames, it becomes much darker than it should be, with only a faint light emanating from a flashlight Shoto held in a death grip. Adrenaline from almost being flamed to death must be running through the kid because he’s breathing hard and the beam of light shakes in his hand. Rubble surrounds them, trapping them in a small pocket amongst the debris.
Dabi takes a step to move closer and ice shoots out toward his leg again, but this round is clearly much more half-hearted. The layer of ice barely covers the front of his shoe. He simply kicks his foot to break out of it, rolling his eyes with intentional aggression this time. “Fucking stop that,” he grumbles, shoving his fists in his pockets to prevent himself from punching something. Something most likely being Shoto.
“I won’t let you kill me without a fight” Shoto grits out, keeping his cold hand extended in front of him as if that would protect him. Fat chance, given that he’d actually almost killed the little shit just a few minutes ago. Was it even a few minutes ago? How long was he unconscious?
“I’m not going to kill you, idiot,” he grouses back. Not anymore at least, with a cooler head prevailing. Not to misconstrue - Dabi’s constant, bone-deep hatred of Endeavor meant that Shoto’s murder was always on the menu. But for now at least it was on the backburner. Clenching his fists in his pockets isn’t helping relieve the simmering frustration enough, so he kicks a little rock against the wall, wincing when it causes a distant rumbling sound and plaster to rain down on them. “Why are you even here?”
“You’re a villain,” Shoto responded with a sum total of zero emotion and zero intonation, pulling his mask of indifference back on. Too late, Dabi thinks, he already saw Shoto shaking like a leaf. It only makes his frustration boil up.
“That doesn’t explain how you…” he trailed off to take a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Nevermind. We’re fucking stuck here thanks to you for fuck knows how long.”
“My friends will come for me. I sent them my location before I followed you into the building.”
“Comforting,” he deadpanned back, eyeing the wall he wanted to lean on to make the world spin a bit less, but was now too wary of its structural integrity after the rock’s performance to follow through. “We’re hours away from your stupid school. How did you even find me?”
“I like soba.”
Lord give him patience. “Didn’t ask and don’t care,” he snapped back. “Answer my fucking question.”
“Apparently you like soba too.” What? Is this some kind of weird bonding thing? Trying to humanize yourself to the enemy? He sifts through his scattered thoughts and pounding head for a better explanation. Ah, that’s right. He stopped at a soba restaurant in Musutafu some hours ago before heading out here. That was a really fucking long time ago though. This brat had been following him since then? Fuck.
“Fuck.” That last part slipped out. With some finality in that eloquent statement, he plops himself onto the stablest looking part of the ground and puts his head in his hands. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Shoto stumbling back a step or two to lean against a wall as far away from him as possible. Apparently he didn’t learn from the rock thing. No noises or plaster this time though, and Shoto slides himself down the wall to sit against it. He continues to side eye Shoto disinterestedly as Shoto in turn watches Dabi warily and intently, setting the flashlight on the floor so it illuminates their little pocket as best it can before wrapping his arms around himself.
“Where’d the flashlight come from?” he mumbles, blaming his concussion for apparently removing some brain-to-mouth filter and letting him make small talk with the last person in the world he wants to converse with.
“‘M a hero. Carry basic rescue supplies in canisters.” A light thunk next to him, and he reaches over to grab the long silver container. “Acetaminophen,” Shoto mumbles out between a couple of pills. Dabi thinks it’s probably the only useful thing Shoto has ever done as he chokes down some pills as well.
“Why’d you have to make them weiner shaped though?” Okay, he’s putting more effort into putting his filter back up.
“You have the maturity of a kindergartner,” Shoto responds with an almost haunted look in his eye. The fucking audacity. Dabi shoots daggers in return that silently dare him to say anything more.
“So…” Apparently, Shoto doesn’t know or doesn’t care for social cues. “Why aren’t you trying to kill me then?” His mismatched eyes bore into Dabi with intensity as he waits for a response.
Great question. Messy answer. On the one hand, nothing would make him happier than to cause Endeavor pain. What better way to do that than to kill his masterpiece, his golden child. Maybe his only child in his mind, the fucker. When Dabi’s fire was raging around them and he was watching Shoto fight for his life, the jealousy and anger he’d always felt consumed him. On the other hand though… Dabi really doesn’t want to think about that hand. And yet that’s the hand that’s winning apparently. He tells himself that it’s in the same vein of thought. That killing Shoto would bring the most satisfaction when it’s in front of Endeavor, so he has to hold out until then. But buried behind that thought, when it’s quiet enough in his mind for sense beyond bitter impulse, something whispers that Shoto is still his brother. And somewhere even deeper inside, he knows that nothing that happened was really Shoto’s fault. Damn it. He goes with a cleaner answer that will hopefully get Shoto off his back. “There’s no point in killing you now when I’d have to just sit here with your nasty corpse for fuck knows how long. I don’t do anything without gain, and right now killing you has no gain. I’m not a psychopath.” There. Good, logical, perfectly and expectedly villainous answer.
“Definitely at least a sociopath then,” Shoto mutters, evidently deeming Dabi’s answer satisfactory enough to let his eyes slip closed and lean his head back against the wall. Dabi can feel one of his eyes twitching in annoyance.
“If you don’t shut the fuck up I might change my mind.”
“No, I don’t think you will.”
Jesus fucking christ, was Shoto always like this? He can't really remember but he suspects he might have been. Maybe Endeavor kept him away from the rest of them not because he was so special but because he was so specially annoying. Even without his raging jealousy fueling him, he might have still tried to off Shoto later on just for his unbearable personality. He can't stop a wry grin from spreading on his face when that thought flits through his mind, and huffs out a small laugh. The corner of Shoto’s mouth turns up the tiniest amount in response to the noise.
“Mm, thought so,” Shoto drones out without even opening his eyes.
It’s Dabi’s turn to close his eyes now, again seriously contemplating murder of his dearest little brother. The almost-peace they settled into is interrupted by a sudden burst of wet coughing from Shoto, and Dabi finds his eyes ripping back open and honing in on his brother.
“What’s wrong with you?”
“Rude question,” Shoto dodges. He grunts impatiently to prompt a real response out of Shoto. “It’s dusty. You collapsed a building on us.”
“It was you hitting the wall that did it,” he groused.
“Yes, the wall I slammed myself into, twice” Shoto bites back, his perfect monotone sarcasm marred by another round of coughing that follows. Dabi feels the irritation flare up inside him again.
“Do you think I’m an idiot? That wasn’t a ‘dusty’ cough,” he growls as he stands and stalks over in order to tower over Shoto. Intimidation never failed to get him what he wanted before. But unlike before, Shoto doesn’t jump away from Dabi - has the audacity to not even move - just blinks slowly up at him.
With this closer vantage point, he can see with painful clarity the details of Shoto’s face he’d long forgotten, or perhaps more accurately never even gotten to see. Red and white strands that he envied from the moment Shoto’s quirk manifested mixing together lightly in the middle. A light dusting of plaster from the ceiling clinging to his hair, his shoulders, his eyelashes. His rounded cheeks, having not quite lost all his baby fat yet, paler than pale. Right, he’s still so young. Only barely older than when… well. And his piercing heterochromatic eyes, a bit glassy and glazed over now. Just another feature Dabi could never live up to.
Wait.
“What’s wrong?” he tries again, attempting to lessen the growl but unable to hide the frustration in his voice over how difficult Shoto seems to always choose to be.
Shoto only continues to blink slowly at Dabi. When he shifts away to one side ever so slightly, Dabi’s eyes hone in on the movement. An arm is placed awkwardly over his abdomen, hiding something. Dabi grabs the arm and rips it away, simultaneously ripping another wet gasp from Shoto. Underneath, a piece of wood impaling the right side up and into his brother's chest from his stomach.
“Fucking fuck!” He shouts, dropping the hand as if it burned him, a feeling he is all too familiar with. Shoto’s eyes are squeezed tightly shut now, tension running through his body and his teeth grit together so tightly Dabi can practically hear them creaking under the strain. “What the fuck, Shoto! Fuck!” He didn’t even process the accidental use of his brother’s given name.
“Is that the only word in your vocabulary?” Shoto grits out, and Dabi can tell he’s fighting to maintain that stoic exterior. Now that he’s been found out though, his voice wobbles with unhidable pain. Acetaminophen and band-aids won’t fix this. Dabi eyes the blood that is slowly darkening his costume. He can practically see the life draining out of Shoto’s body along with it.
“Come on, you gotta lie down,” he manages to get out through clenched teeth. He’s not really sure how he went from nearly homicidal to playing nurse in just a few minutes, but it’s like something deeply buried has awoken within him, and he can’t seem to stop himself. All of the energy must have left Shoto by now because he barely puts up a fight as Dabi does his best to get him stretched out. He tries to assess the damage, but to be honest he’s got more experience in the maiming-and-killing department than the healing-and-saving one. Now able to see the wound fully, all he knows is that it’s bad. Worse than bad. Deadly. He’s honestly impressed the idiot is still awake. The tear is ragged from the rough shape of the wood, and little splinters catch on the edges. Blood seeps out slowly and stains his fingertips as he tears the costume’s fabric away from Shoto’s torso. So it wasn’t fear flits through his mind, and he brushes the thought away. How did he not notice that Shoto was quite literally impaled? Lacking proper bandages for this caliber of wound, Dabi shucks off his coat and pulls his shirt over his head. He balls up the coat and tucks it under Shoto’s head, then begins tearing the shirt into strips with his teeth. After a couple of minutes, he feels a creeping sense of discomfort at the lack of snarky quips coming from the boy beside him. He glances down from his makeshift bandages and sees Shoto’s eyes have slipped closed. Oh fuck oh fuck .
“Shoto,” he probes but gets no response. Panic starts to set in and he begins lightly smacking the other boy’s cheek, not wanting to shake him too much with the giant piece of wood sticking out of him. “Shoto, Shoto come on. Don’t sleep, stay with me Shoto.”
He feels a strange relief wash over him when after a particularly harsh smack, his brother’s eyes just barely crack open again, looking like his eyelids weigh a hundred pounds. If he had thought they were glassy before, now they are truly vacant. Bloodloss , he thinks, and begins tearing up the shirt again with renewed vigor.
“You remind me of my brother right now,” Shoto mumbles in an incredibly soft tone. It’s something Dabi suspects Shoto would never have uttered in a right state of mind.
“Just because I’m trying to stop you from dying doesn’t make me a doctor, idiot.” Yeah, he keeps tabs on his siblings. Maybe he’d said too much there, but he suspected Shoto wasn’t going to be thinking too hard about it right now. Shit, he probably won’t even remember this.
“Not Natsu-nii. My oldest brother, Touya-nii,” Shoto whispers. Dabi can feel his muscles tense at Shoto’s words, but he forces himself to plow on like nothing is wrong. For better or worse, Shoto decides to plow on too.
“He was… rough. But underneath… when it really mattered… he was kind.” Definitely for worse , Dabi thinks as Shoto pauses for another wet cough and a couple of rattling breaths. Shoto must really be losing it, because no one could look at his actions today and think kind . He’s not even sure thirteen year old Touya could have been considered kind. He thought maybe Shoto would finally stop on this topic after that, but no. “You have some Touya in you… deep down… I think.”
Dabi stifles a choke at that, thankful for maybe the first time in his life that his tear ducts are seared shut, and continues tearing his shirt to shreds.
“You even… look like him a bit… with the white hair. ‘S hard to… remember.” What? He instinctively reaches up to touch a few strands of the hair he knows he re-dyed black just yesterday, and feels coarse grains. He pulls his hand away and rubs them between his fingers. Ceiling plaster coats his hair in a layer of white.
Dabi tries frantically to push aside all the feelings welling inside him and make sure his brother is alive when he finds himself again facing suffocating silence. This time though, Shoto’s eyes are still open, searching the ceiling, past the ceiling, looking at something that isn’t there, and he continues dragging in ragged breaths. Blood is starting to puddle beneath them and Dabi knows that Shoto can’t afford to lose any more.
“I’m sorry Shoto.” He chokes out. He barely manages the second half, “This is going to hurt.” What he doesn’t manage to say is the other apologies. I’m sorry I hated you. I’m sorry I had to leave you. I’m sorry I wasn’t better, he thinks as wraps a strip of shirt around his hand to provide a grip and grasps the end of the piece of wood firmly. Shoto’s eyes finally still, apparently having found whatever he was looking for.
“Touya-nii, I miss you,” slips from Shoto’s lips as his eyes slip shut as well, a single tear spilling over. It’s not really said to anyone, Shoto being truly delirious now, yet it finds its listener perfectly. Dabi rips the piece of wood from Shoto’s side and slams his hand over the wound, blue flames bursting out as his mind endlessly repeats stop the bleeding stop the bleeding stop the bleeding . Shoto’s garbled scream only lasts a moment, his entire body tensing, before the pain is too much and he loses consciousness, but it is enough. Enough for Dabi to not feel like Dabi anymore. Enough for Touya, tiny broken pieces long buried, ripped to the surface, to heave a dry sob out of his lungs, squeezing his eyes tightly shut as he is thrown back to thirteen years old. Back to an age when he heard his baby brother’s screams for what he thought would be the last time. He clambers over Shoto’s unconscious form, pulling his limp form to cradle him in his arms, to hold him to his chest.
“I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry,” he heaves out desperately, despite knowing Shoto can't even hear the apology. Eventually, words leave him. He finds a salve in one of the canisters and spreads it over the wound, binding it carefully in the strips of shirt as best he can. After that, he continues holding his brother tight to his chest, feeling the shallow breaths and praying to any god that would still hear him that the slow rise and fall will continue.
It feels like an eternity, and no time at all, that he is clutching Shoto, just rocking, before he hears noise somewhere above them.
“Todoroki-kun! Todoroki-kun!”
One of Shoto’s friends is finally here. He pushed onward before he could decide it was probably stupid to alert a hero-in-training as to where he, a top tier villain, was holed up with their also hero-in-training classmate.
Oh well. “Under here!” Too late now.
It only took a few moments before there was thudding from above and a freckled face with wild green hair was suddenly visible in a hole big enough to climb through.
“Todoroki-kun, I got your -“ was all he got out before Touya sprung out of the cavern with Shoto in his arms. He watched the child - ah, Midoriya, of course - as his face darkened, dropping into a fighting stance when he registered Shoto’s unconscious form and just who was holding him. Green lightning crackled in the air and Touya held Shoto tighter in his arms.
“I won’t let you take him” the young hero growled, and he almost felt a chill at the ferocity of his tone. Still mad about the last one, huh? He made an impulsive decision then, letting blue flames engulf the hand under Shoto’s knees. Even unconscious, Shoto shifted away from the flames to push further into Touya’s chest. He bit out the villainous response that was expected of him, a response that would let him keep the upper hand in this situation.
“Stay back, or I will burn him to ash.” Shoto might have called his bluff immediately, but Midoriya remained tense and hadn’t moved yet, apparently weighing his options. Never taking his eyes off the green boy, he dropped to one knee before carefully laying his brother on the ground. A look of confusion washes over Midoriya's face and his arms drop slightly as he evidently tries to make sense of what Dabi is doing. Touya uses the moment to finally break eye contact, extinguish his flames, and brush some of the fringe of Shoto’s hair from his eyelashes. He swallowed thickly and whispered a goodbye that was only for himself. “Touya-nii missed you too, Shoto.”
By the time there was a flash of green lightning and Midoriya was standing cradling Shoto in much the same way Touya had been holding him only moments before, he had already disappeared. As he hurried down a nearby alleyway, he could hear other young voices arriving. Shoto didn’t need him, he had found a new family. Maybe a better one, he thought bitterly. He reached up to aggressively scrub the plaster out of his hair, feeling a hot trace of blood leak down his cheek as the action pulled at the staples under his eyes. It felt like the last fragile remains of his heart had finally been burnt up, because he knew now that this was how it had to be. He was, after all, a villain. He couldn’t live up to Endeavor’s expectations of a hero as Touya, so he will exceed them as the villain Dabi. He couldn’t live up to Shoto’s memories of Touya, so he will destroy them as Dabi. He was leaving Shoto behind, for good this time. And he was leaving the last pieces of Touya behind with him. With the sound of sirens fading out, Dabi slipped into the shadows.