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Dabi woke with a start, grasping at his stomach and breathing harshly. Nothing made any sense as his mind worked overtime in a desperate attempt to figure out what was going on. He was dead. He was crushed to death. There was no coming back from that, so what the fuck was going on?
How the fuck was he even breathing? The thought was running through his mind on loop as he grabbed at his hair and tugged. He could barely see past the blurriness and black spots dancing around his vision. He knew somewhere in the back of his mind that his hyperventilating was probably the cause of that, but logic could wait. He was some-fucking-how alive.
The only way this shit made any kind of sense was if it was caused by a quirk. Not a quirk that healed someone because Dabi was supposed to be buried under an entire fucking building. Being crushed to death. To have him healed made no sense whatsoever, it would take hours for anyone to get him out from below the still collapsing building. He's also pretty sure that if someone managed to get him out of it, he'd be in a hospital right now. The room he was in wasn't a hospital room and the bed he woke up in was what any typical bedroom would have, clearly not a fucking hospital.
A teleportation quirk, maybe? No, he would be even more dead if that was the case, his entire body was crushed, the only reason his death wasn't instant was because the rubble didn't crush his head, besides most of the rubble kept him from bleeding out as fast as he probably should have.
It might have been possible if there was two people working to have him alive, someone with a teleportation quirk as well as someone with an overpowered healing quirk, which were already rare enough on their own. But who in their right mind would save Dabi of all people? There were others in the building with him when it collapsed. His kid brother was with him and — oh god that was something he wished he had never remembered — if there was anyone among the very few civilians, the one hero student and two villains, the one with priority to be saved should have — would have — been Shoto.
Maybe it could've been a time quirk that sent someone back to a point in their life, but then why would they pick him? Why would they chose Dabi to send back in time? It didn't make sense why they would pick him, but it was the only thing currently making any kind of sense. So, time quirk it was. Someone used their time quirk on him to send him back in time. Weird fucking choice, but he's here now — he can't do shit to change it.
But then, it might not have even been their choice. If it was one of the civilians with them when the building collapsed, then they might have gone for the one that was the closest. But then why not send themselves back? Maybe their quirk didn't work like that?
It didn't matter.
The only shit that mattered, was to figure out where or when he was. If it was a time quirk that sent him back, then he should be in the past. If it was a time quirk, he needed to figure out if he was sent back in time as he was — not likely, he wasn't actively dying at the moment — or if his memories was sent back into the past and into his past self.
Dabi sent out a rattled breath and dragged his hands over his face, he had managed to calm down while thinking and the panic had subdued to only lingering in a small part at the back of his mind. He took a moment to steady his breathing and then dragged his gaze around the room he was in. It looked startlingly like his old room, before anything happened — before Toya died. At that thought, Dabi became increasingly aware of every part of his body. The way his hands didn't quite spread as far as he was used to on the bed sheets, the way his legs were shorter. The absence of scarred skin that wasn't quite his.
Had he not prepared himself for finding something he wouldn't expect, he would have given in to the ice cold spark of panic that shot up his spine to his head.
Still, his eyes became more frantic in their observation, as he cautiously moved to get out of the bed he was in. His old bed, if his observations were leading him in the right direction. The bathroom door was where he remembered it to be, the sliding doors to his wardrobe next to it hiding it from immediate view when coming into the bedroom. The wardrobe doors could never fully close after he had slammed it shut in anger one time when he was 12, but.. it was shut. It was shut so neatly that there was really nothing that he could say to deny it, he was back to some time before his 13th birthday. Meaning he had to go through puberty again.
The height change was jarring when he was finally standing up, needing to take a deep breath as he opened up the door to the bathroom. Pausing before he could see his reflection, he considered just turning around and leaving. Logically, Dabi knew it was a stupid thought, if he was really back in time then he would treat it for what it was. But seeing his reflection, seeing his skin unmarred and his hair stark white—it would make everything that much more real, Dabi didn't know if he was ready for that quite yet. He knew he didn't really have a choice, but fuck it—he wanted to live in denial for just a short moment longer.
Dabi closed his eyes tightly, cursing himself and everything that led him to this moment. He took a steadying breath and before he could second think it more than he already had—he stepped in front of the mirror and stared at the reflection glaring back at him.
Well, fuck.
Not only was it before his 13th birthday, it was before his hair had even fully turned white. The offending red was peeking through here and there, but judging by how far it had gotten at this point in time, he was probably around 9 age wise. His eyes widened with horror when he realized—it was before Shoto was born, wasn't it? Fuck. He hoped his mother was at least pregnant with the kid. He didn't want to accidentally change something, then have to deal with the guilt of having practically erased his kid brother from existence.
Right, first things first—before he lets himself have that fucking panic attack, he needs to figure out when he is and a plan forward. His body didn't have any time identifying injuries at the moment, nor could he think of anything that happened to his body when he was between 8 and 10 other than major injuries. Dabi took a look around the bathroom, searching for anything that could give him a clue—like how his towels were red and not white- wait, what? red?
He stared at the red towels, how had he almost missed that? He'd thrown the red towels away when he was 11. (He had burnt them to ash intentionally, it was the beginning of his rebellion towards his dad in some ways) So, definitely younger than 12. At least he now knew what the first thing he would do was when he figured out what date it was. Dabi shook his head and then took another look around, barely anything changed in his room so it was difficult to tell from that alone. With a sigh he turned around and walked back into his old bedroom, a frown had started making itself at home on his face—it was there when he was an adult, he had no doubt it would become a permanent residence on his face once again.
His bedroom was not much different from his bathroom, nothing big changed through the years he had lived here. Just as he finished the thought, he noticed something sitting on his desk. It was a small ice sculpture, one that Dabi remembered vaguely. He stepped closer to the desk and touched the sculpture gently, muttering under his breath, "my 10th birthday, huh?"
It had been the last, the very last ice sculpture that his mom had ever and would ever make for him. The sculpture was an intricate depiction of a traditional dragon, with roses(that he was sure would have been blue had they been with color, blue roses had been their thing back then) surrounding it. Dabi felt bittersweet seeing it again, part of him wanted to destroy it.. another wanted the exact opposite.
But, this is good. That would mean his youngest brother was born just a few days ago, he wouldn't have to worry about accidentally erasing his existence. It would also give him around a week more to assimilate, he remembered how easy it had been to avoid the attention of everyone back then—though it would be closer to the truth to say that no one actually payed him much attention during the first month or so after the kids birth. It was one of the things that had made him hate his brother so much, as unfair as that hate was in the end—he had been a child.
Dabi scowled, Todoroki Enji was a shitty parent and he could tell that to anyone who bothered to listen, his actions had already doomed this family. Sure, Dabi would admit to recognizing that he would attempt to change in the future—to 'atone' for what he put his family through, but Dabi couldn't and wouldn't forgive him. Not now, not in the future and not in his next life.
He wished he could say that he wouldn't give a shit about Enji this time(for his own well being), but being back in a child's body brought back his hate with a vengeance—another thing he'd have to work on while his family was busy.
Dabi closed his eyes as he gathered his frustration before letting it go through his clenched jaw as a sigh. Opening them slightly to glare down at the sculpture, Dabi thought about his plans to go forward. Would my quirks strength from the future translate to this time? he pursed his lips, hesitating before making a decision. Dabi closed his eyes once more and looked deep inside himself, then taking a deep breath and focusing his attention at the contact point between his fingers and the ice. Feeling the sudden chill of the room, he released the air he had been holding and opened his eyes—staring back at him was the ice sculpture, no longer with clear, slowly melting ice but rather an ice so cold Dabi wouldn't be surprised if it burnt just as much as his fire did- or would. Similarly, his desk was covered in a layer of frost and the spot where the ice sculpture sat was covered in a sheet of ice.
His quirk had followed. His ice had followed him back in time. Dabi felt a smile tugging on his lips and he brought up his other hand to light a small flame and- blue. A blue, tiny flame met his sight. He let a whispery chuckle escape him. He could do this. Closing his hand around the flame, feeling it get extinguished, Dabi let a big, wide and nasty grin spread on his childish face.
He would do this.