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Dabi’s being followed, and not by professionals. He sidesteps into an alley, letting his boots stomp conspicuously against the cobblestone. The boys–too young and far too loud— clamber after him, giggling.
“Hello,” he says, in the deepest tone he can muster when they turn the corner. He lets his hands alight with fire, his eyes glowing cyan in the shadows. He turns one corner of his mouth up, then the other, splitting into a smile Toga calls ‘bone-chilling’ and Twice and his clone flinch at.
The boy in the front, small with red and white hair and two-toned eyes, doesn’t recoil. So the brat does know how to get out from under the old man’s boot. The boy at Shouto’s back, scrawnier than any kid Dabi’s ever seen and with unruly emerald hair, lights up at the sight of his quirk.
“How hot is your fire?” the kid chirps, “or, is it like…a chemical reaction? Why is it blue?”
Dabi blinks, his fire extinguishing in a moment of disbelief. How could these kids–not even ten and away from their parents–be so bold at the sight of him.
Dabi whose skin is charred to death, whose body is held together with staples, whose boots are covered in metallic spikes and whose eyes in the mirror scream, always, fuck with me I dare you.
“If you brats know what’s good for you, you’ll scram.”
The chatty one clams up, eyes downcast now. He folds his arms in front of his body in a defensive gesture. Shouto’s eyes don’t waver.
“Why?” he challenges.
Dabi steps forward, crowding them against the alley wall. “I’m a villain, kid. You shouldn’t mess with me.”
Shouto’s eyes, steel-grey and ice blue and just as cold, flick up to Dabi’s face and down to the spikes on his shoes. “Prove it.”
So Dabi does.
Let it not be said that Dabi is the kind of wishy washy motherfucker who’d make empty threats and chicken out on the follow through just because one of his victims used to be his brother.
He grabs the kids by the back of their shirt collars, yanks them forward and lifts them into the air.
He opens his mouth to deliver one last warning, maybe a sneered, ‘not so tough now are ya?’ all close and personal right up in the kids face.
But before he can manage to say anything, there’s a screeching wail of rusted metal on metal from somewhere high above them and Dabi quickly jerks away and out of the path of the entire fucking fire escape suddenly coming down.
It hits the ground with a mighty ear splitting crash and Dabi lets out an annoyed grunt at the inconvenience of it all— before abruptly realizing he’s still got two handfuls of kid dangling from his fingers.
And the chatty one is suddenly chatty again.
“Wow!” the naive child beams at him, his smile wide and bright as his eyes sparkle with something that looks suspiciously and disgustingly like hero worship. “That was super cool, your reaction time must be amazing! How do you train reflexes like that?”
The questions don’t stop coming, his little red sneakered feet kicking at the air— because news flash kid! The literal villain is still holding you by the shirt! Stop gushing about reflexes and start pleading for your life, goddamn!
Dabi just sighs and tosses the two kids further down the alley, both of them barely weighing anything.
Only for them to land on a conveniently (for the kids not him) placed abandoned mattress in the alley.
Seriously, what is his life?
“Wow mister thank you for saving us!” The green one says again, looking at the ground by his feet.
The ground, which of course, is covered in shrapnel and broken glass from the window the fire escape took out on the way down which probably would have impacted their horrifically unprotected small child feet.
Both of the brats scramble up from their laying positions, their eyes wide and alarmed.
“You're not very convincing that you're a villain, mister sir.” The green one tells him once again even as Shouto begins to tug on the other boy's arm.
“Izu, we need to go back to the park,” Shouto expresses in a half whisper. “My dad is going to get mad if I leave for too long.”
The green brat, who presumably has a longer name than Izu but Dabi will happily keep calling him the brat, huffs and responds quickly to Shouto, “He's gonna be mad either way, it's fine Shou.”
The brat then looks Dabi flat in the eyes with a passive expression.
If he wants a challenge, he's going to get a challenge.
He stares back at the kid. “What do I need to do to convince you?”
The brat smiles in the way that only a mischievous child can.
“You can’t!” he chirps. “You’re too cool to be a villain.”
Has anyone ever called Dabi “cool” before? Aside from it being wrong in a literal sense, it feels familiar. Maybe Natsuo had, a few times, before… well, before.
It brings up feelings. Disgusting.
“Whatever,” he mutters, turning away from them.
How they get out of the alley is their problem. He’s a villain. He doesn’t care.
He doesn’t even look back.
He just wanted a damn snack.
Why did some asshole have to rob the store while he was in there? Couldn’t the guy have waited for him to leave? Criminal to criminal courtesy, or whatever.
Dabi was actually paying for his sandwich for once, too, if only because the staff gets suspicious if they never see him buy anything. It’s not like he got the money through legitimate means anyway, so it’s basically still stealing it. Then some dipshit had to come in waving his acid quirk around like they should respect him, and give up all their money. He actually has the nerve to walk right up next to Dabi and ignore him.
He grimaces under his mask. How annoying.
The cashier is a young woman, probably around his age. She fumbles with the cash register as the robber looms over her.
“I saw that,” shouts the robber. His breath stinks, and that’s a high bar coming from someone like Dabi. “You’re trying to pull something, huh? Thought I wouldn’t notice? Well, let’s see how you like-“
Dabi doesn’t even notice that he grabs the robber until they’re already halfway to the door. The asshat hisses and spits at him, literally spitting acid. A couple drops land on Dabi’s arm, but it’s not like he has much feeling left there anyway. He’s had worse.
“Beat it,” he says. “I’ve got better things to do, I don’t need some low life interrupting my break time.”
“Oh yeah?” the robber says. “Why should I listen to you?”
Dabi pulls his flames up, letting it engulf his arms and sleeves. The robber’s eyes grow wide and he jerks his arm back from where Dabi’s holding him but Dabi doesn’t give an inch.
“Because I don’t ask twice,” Dabi says.
“I-I’m sorry,” the man sobs, his pulling becoming more frantic as Dabi’s flames engulf his sleeve.
Dabi clucks his tongue at the robber but releases him, letting his flames die down. The robber doesn’t spare Dabi–or the cashier–a glance before he turns and bolts out the door.
The cashier begins to clap slowly and when Dabi turns around she bows, her forehead nearly hitting the counter. “T-thank you, sir.”
Dabi rolls his eyes at her and pulls up his hood before disappearing with his sandwich still unpaid.
He’s in a foul mood by the time he makes it back to the League of Villian’s headquarters. Toga is on the couch, chewing on a twizzlers as she paints her nails in front of the television.
There, the cashier from the konbini Dabi was just in is giving a tearful interview to a newscaster. “He just came out of nowhere,” she says. “Sir, if you’re out there, thank you!”
The reporter turns to stare at the camera, a blinding smile on her face. “It goes to show that even in a society full of professional heroes, sometimes the most impactful Samaritans are your fellow civilians.”
Dabi turns the TV off with a snarl. Toga’s eyes dart from the TV to Dabi to the sandwich in his hand.
“Hey isn’t that the konbini you–”
“Stop. Talking.” Dabi says.
Toga just takes his hand and starts to paint his nails black and Dabi pretends he isn’t sulking into his egg sandwich.
The next time Dabi goes out he is fucking prepared!
No more konbini workers and no more little brats, he’s got a destination in mind and shit to fucking do and nothing is going to get in his w—
Mrreow
Dabi’s steps falter.
Sounds young. Sounds scared. Sounds close. Not that he cares of course.
He shakes his head and tugs his hood even lower. Dammit he’s got shit to do! It doesn’t matter if there’s a kitten out here, Dabi is a villain! Dabi doesn’t give a shit!
The sky suddenly opens up, a heavy rain coming down in sheets that serves to drench Dabi through in seconds.
He sighs and turns to stare up at the unrelenting stream. “If you think you’re trying to tell me something then fuck you.”
The only response he gets is more rain to the face.
And another sad little meow.
Fuck the little thing’s probably cold and wet and hungry.
NOT THAT HE CARES!!!
Oh who’s he kidding, of course he cares, it’s a kitten. It’s not even a cat that can be lazy and distrustful and little assholes that swipe at you with sharp claws and make direct eye contact while pushing things off the shelf.
It’s a baby. And babies can do no wrong. A kitten left out in the cold is just another victim waiting to happen.
Dabi is crouching down next to the shivering soggy furrball before he’d fully decided he was gonna do it.
It’s a cute little thing even if it’s all drippy and sad. Dabi reaches for it slowly but not that slowly because dammit he’s still a villain with various evil bad shit to do.
But he’s also a villain with a fire quirk. Which means that when he finally gets the tiny shuddering into his hands it’s immediately ten times warmer than it was before.
It clings to him, a little black and white thing with hints of red. It does not remind him of himself. Not at all. Shut up.
He places it under his hood, onto his shoulder. Probably not the best smelling place for it to be, but it cuddles up to him, snuffling his face.
Well, he still has shit to do. He just has a guest now.
He intimidates that informant so well. And if there’s purring in his ear while he threatens to light a man on fire, well, that’s Dabi’s business.
Of course there’s a little old lady and a purse snatcher. Why wouldn’t there be a little old lady and a purse snatcher?
Dabi really is cursed. There’s no other explanation, at this point. He is cursed to be surrounded by idiots and disasters and sad little kitty cats to make him look like a much better person than he actually is.
He knows he’s screwed when he hears screams down the street, too far to have anything to do with him. And oh, how he wishes it will stay that way.
But again, he’s cursed.
The dumbass purse snatcher is looking behind himself when he runs smack into Dabi, and they both fall on their asses. Dabi, in his large experience in getting knocked down by stuff, gets up first.
The purse snatcher takes one look at Dabi’s glare of death, shoves the purse at him, and bolts.
The guy doesn’t get far before a flash of red slams him back into the ground.
Ugh, it’s that newish hero with the wings and the annoying smile.
Purse snatcher is too dazed to try and run, and the hero— Dabi can’t be assed enough to remember his name— turns around. And smiles at Dabi, though there’s a bit of tension, because he doesn’t know Dabi’s deal.
Dabi tosses the purse to the hero because he’s not an idiot.
The hero’s smile gets bigger. Ugh. “Why thank you, Sir! And thanks for slowing the criminal down, too, though I would’ve caught up soon enough. You’re not hurt, are you?”
Dabi just scoffs, unimpressed. “No, I’m fine.”
The hero nods at him. “Well thank you again. I’ll just need you to come with me to make a statement at the police station for my records.”
“I’m afraid I really need to get to work,” Dabi tries to explain away, not wanting to look suspicious in the hero’s eyes and also not wanting to willingly walk into a police station.
“I’m afraid I must insist," the hero says in such a way that it seems like he’s reciting from a script. “We can inform your employer and it’s illegal to retaliate against you for such a thing.”
Dabi hums, not seeing a direct way out of this. Perhaps he could just lose the man amongst the tight knit alleys and streets? He probably wouldn’t be able to navigate very well given the size of his wings in areas that Dabi himself could barely fit through.
“Lead the way then.”
The hero does so without even so much as a thought, taking the arm of the purse snatcher with one hand and holding the purse with the other, allowing Dabi to train behind him as they walk.
It’s a good situation for him to be able to slip away from and he does so with barely a thought when the winged man turns a sharp corner. Thankfully, the hero doesn’t attempt to give any sort of chase when Dabi disappears into an alleyway. Not that he really could with his hands full and a criminal with him.
Why did things like this have to keep happening to him? Really.
At least Toga had taken a liking to the kitten so he could claim that it was for her, but still.
When he exits the side alley he took to get away from the prospect of a police precinct and a line of questioning, he runs straight into a couple of kids.
No, Dabi thinks.
Shouto, arms crossed in front of him, stares up at him with those perceptive, devotedly focused eyes of his. The green brat is there too.
This can’t be happening, Dabi despairs.
“See,” Shouto says, and he’s got the same goddamn audacity Dabi used to have, all those years ago in the wake of Endeavor’s limited pride. “You're not a villain.”