Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Dabi isn't one for sentiment. Not after his childhood, it's just embarrassing.

At first, it was alright, he doesn't remember a lot of his life before his siblings came to be, he'd barely been 11 months when his sister was born, and 4.5 when the middle brother came, but he'd like to think those early days were alright.

That was until his quirk became an issue.

It wasn't entirely apparent at first, when it first manifested it had been during a small tantrum when he didn't get the ice cream he swore he was promised(he wasn't, he asked and was told no), where a small flame flickered off his hair, almost missed from the red of it at the time, and his father had been so excited he spun him around while his mother and sister giggled at his father's unexpectedly sweet actions. The days before his standardized check-up were full of his father's praise and attention surrounding his quirk being a mirror of his own, and promises he'd be a strong hero, stronger than him, stronger than the number one hero, and that attention, that praise, expectedly got him excited. He'd run to his mother all giddy and swear he'd be a hero that helped people, strong enough to protect her, his sister, his father, and everyone else, without breaking a sweat. He'd play heroes with his sister and pretend she was a damsel in distress, and he'd swoop in and save her from whatever she was in danger of; a villain, a fire, a sea monster, other things children would come up with, the details were fuzzy, but he'd always use a blanket as a cape, and made his sister a princess crown to fit her character. She didn't understand too well, being too young, but played along because it was fun.

When he went to get his check-up, he was bouncing with excitement, and even got a sticker and lollipop!

In the days following, his father decided it was important to hone his quirk early to make him the best hero as soon as possible, and he was all for it, which started daily training. Starting small, he'd be asked to try focusing on creating a flame in his hand, or even his finger, and it took him 3 days to finally get it, just enough to flicker out immediately at his excitement. But he had gotten it. And that only furthered his determination. As training progressed, he'd gotten the hang of using his quirk for longer than a second, and even spread to other parts of his body, his arms, legs, and feet, seeing flickers of his hard work progressing. A couple times, his father even took him to promotional hero events, where he'd be doted upon for being a big hero's son, his father being proud to introduce him and call him his son, and he ate it up.

But when he was playing fun one training session, and showing off his skills by lighting both his arms on fire, he suddenly felt hot pain scorching his arms and instinctively cut his quirk, revealing slight reddening skin leaving behind a pinching that pained whenever he even thought about anything hot.

That incident forced him back to the doctors who confirmed his quirk/body incompatibility and thus all training immediately stopped. Not long after that, his younger brother was born and that occupied much of his attention, but he always went back to his father to ask about training whenever he saw him, which was promptly refused every time.

When his sister and brother both manifested ice quirks, he'd notice his father growing increasing agitation and patience wearing thinner, temper shortening, to the point he'd often overhear his parents fighting in the dead of night(more so his father yelling at his mother and her frail attempts to defend herself), notably, most of what he heard was just “Why can't you give me what I want?!” “I'm sorry, I can't control how they turn out.” so he had a rough idea of his fathers goal. He always complained about his and All Might's gap in status, and from what he remembers from their talks when training, and being his son, his father had hoped his kids would be able to help him, or even surpass All Might themselves. But when his siblings manifested ice quirks, he was disappointed, fire and ice don't work well fighting alongside each other he'd think, so them helping him and fighting side by side was out of the question. But he'd manifested a fire quirk, and a strong one if conversations he'd heard during his late night eavesdropping outside his parents bedroom and fathers office where any indication, so if anyone was fit to help his father and surpass All Might for him, it would be him, he just needed to make his father to see it.

Since his father refused to train him, he decided to go out, under the premise of playing with friends, to train by himself. He didn't fully understand training, but he'd gotten the basics and was eager to try things he saw his father do on TV, so he tried anyway. And he made progress! He was so excited he ran to tell his father of the good news, he couldn't wait to tell him he could still train and be a hero, but his father didn't take it too well. Next thing he knew, his father was scolding him and borderline yelling at him not to train his quirk, that it was dangerous. And he got so frustrated, he stomped to his room and slammed the door.

He didn't stop though, he wanted to prove to his father he could help, that he wasn't all useless.

When he was 8 his youngest brother was born, and something about the look in his father's eyes angered him. The look screamed “finally” and that pissed him off. That look shouldn't have to have been made. He should be looking at him like that watching his progress. He should never have had to consider the idea of someone else. It should have been him.

Maybe it's not too late.

Maybe he can get rid of the recipient of his fathers attention before he decides to train him.

Maybe he can still be wanted.

And in a moment of absolute jealousy, he lunged forward, fire blazing, and tried to get rid of the source of his newfound hatred, tears streaming down his face.

He'd failed, and been punished severely after, and his father took to coddling his youngest brother even more after that, practically raising him separately from him and his siblings. While he still had his mom, the housekeepers, and nanny, to keep him occupied, he wanted his fathers attention, his praise, his acceptance, he wanted to help his father with his goal and prove useful

He almost never saw his dad after.

But he'd continue to train, oftentimes sneaking out past bedtime to go to his training grounds.

Life progressed the next few years. His schooling was pushed forwards as he prepared for Junior High, his tutors excited to teach them all he could handle, language and mathematics were a large portion of his preparation. He suspected it might have been to distract him from his brother, busy him into forgetting his hero dreams. He didn't know. He didn't care. As far as they knew, he'd stopped training and pretending to be a hero or even talking about them.

His personal training continued alongside his busying schedule. Originally he'd try to spend as much time he could handle out training, three hours where he was supposed to be asleep, practicing fighting techniques he'd seen his father use in recent fights on TV, but that quickly got overwhelming and he was feeling the repercussions of lessening his sleep schedule, so he altered it slightly, prompting to pretend to go to sleep an hour early to sneak out for only two hours and focus on power and temperature more than trying new techniques, and that helped. By the time he was 12 he had it down to a science. He'd train five to six days a week, having at least one rest day to study new ideas, catch up on the hour sleep he was missing, and spend time with his brother and sister, oftentimes playing ball in the yard.

They liked playing ball in the yard, he thinks it was something about it being in the center of the house, where they'd be closest to the back end where father and the youngest stayed and they'd get to glimpse at them, but it could just be they liked playing ball. His sister remembered their youngest, so she probably told his brother about him if he didn't remember, but none of them know anything about him other than he's fathers favorite and lives in the forbidden part of the house, where the training room is. His siblings expressed interest in getting to know their brother, and frustration over not being allowed to see him, and he shared the sentiment. His personal progress let him be confident in his skills enough to push aside his jealousy and be civil with his youngest brother, fathers favorite, if only for his siblings' benefit, and he'd sometimes consider sneaking over, maybe with them to meet him, or without them to sneak the youngest back to meet them, but he figured it wasn't worth it. He'd been acting good, so it was only a matter of time before father decided the youngest was ready to meet them.

Probably.

His birthday passed and he started Junior High that spring, so he had to cut out some of his training days in favor of studying and homework, but thankfully it wasn't much. His teachers were very nice and only gave him weekend homework, and that he could knock out in a couple hours if he focused. His tutors also ranked up their lessons a bit, adding more subjects that align with his main studies to help him hone his knowledge instead of just accept it, and he was grateful. He was. He liked learning and always tried his best, because he knew he was being given a great opportunity, his mother and classmates always reminded him how much he had compared to others his age, and he knew it. So he had to be grateful.

But like the child he was, he had his grievances. He still wanted his fathers attention, he still wanted to prove he was useful to his father, that he could help him be the best, that he could be the best if he was only given the chance to. That frustrated him more than anything, that he wasn't even given a chance to prove himself useful, he was just pushed aside like a disappointment, like a failure to his fathers vision. What made his brother such a success? He heard something happened and mom got sick and sent away because of him, so what made him so special? He was only 5, compared to that, it felt like he should have been leagues above, he was leagues above. His brother didn't even know how to use his quirk, if it even manifested yet. It usually does by now, going by him and his other siblings, but he doesn't know, doesn't know what it is, but he shouldn't even know how to use it yet, so he was already so much better! He was working his way to getting fire hotter than their father! He has more experience using his fire than his brother has at even speaking, he should be the obvious choice! He should ask. “Father guess what! I can go to blue fire!” “Wow! Really? Show me! You'll be such a great hero with that! I was wrong, let's get your training started up again, I'm proud to have you as my son!” It'll go just like that and he'd get all he wanted. With his father not focusing everything on his brother, they all could meet him, and his siblings will all be happy while he's happily training away with father. With everyone happy, mom could get better and come back, and they'd all be a happy family together, just like his sister wanted.

So that winter he invited his father to see him train. His father unexpectedly freaked out and scolded him again, but he was determined to get him to see his progress. He told him to be at Sekoto Hill the next day, 8pm, told him about his progress, and even promised he'd change his mind and be proud to have him as his son again. It all would go great! He was so excited he barely slept and rushed through his schoolwork and finished his homework in record time and even went early to make sure he was ready for when his father got there. He'd prove he was worth it.

When he finally made sure he could hold the blue fire for longer than a glance, more than a second, he sat and waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Checking the sky, the moon was nearly at the highest point, and a sinking feeling enveloped him.

He held out hope for as long as he could, but when his father didn't show, he kind of, broke.

He didn't understand why he hadn't shown. He was so excited to show him he was useful, he wanted him to know he was worth it, he wanted his father to see him. It was almost his birthday after all. All the years of frustration, jealousy, and sadness, at his father and his brothers special treatment, completely enveloped him, and the next second, all he saw was red, hot flames. He panicked, tried to put it out, but his father never taught him how. He ran to the river, running through the trees and through the grass, and jumped in, knowing he'd be put out. But it was too late, his body ached, burned, and it felt like he was still on fire. Loose skin bits floated around him, and he couldn't move his mouth, probably lost the ability to speak when he was running. His vision was blurry and dark, part from the night and water, and part from the fire's pain.

The last thing he saw before he passed out was what looked like a figure looming above him.

Had his father finally come?

He didn't want him to see him like this, all he'd worked to prove felt like it just went out the window.

He was embarrassed, he was scared, he was disappointed in himself.

If he had another chance, he'd probably work even harder so that doesn't happen again. And he'd get his fathers help to make it so. He doesn't want to get burned again.

.

Next thing he knew, he was awake.

He sprung up gasping for air, frantically looking around for the fire, but as he came to, he took in his surroundings and calmed slightly. He was confused. Where was he? A hospital? How did he get to the hospital? Did his father come and save him? Does that mean he knows he failed? That's annoying.

Annoying?

Weird.

Anyway,

Nobody had come to see him when he woke up, so he went to look for someone. Maybe his father if he was still here, maybe a doctor to ask where his father is, or which hospital he was at and to call his father. The hallways looked weirdly childish, more like a daycare than a hospital, and the pictures stuck to the wall furthered that idea. Various drawings of animals and stick figures, photographs taken of children playing together and hugging each other, there were height markings along a big tree in the center of a long hallway, the branches littered with photos of kids on apples, and everywhere he turned, there seemed to be a animals or fake nature or a bright sun with a face reminding him to smile.

Really weird.

After wondering a bit, he ran into, literally ran into, a guy he presumed was a doctor turning the corner in front of him. He and the guy apologized at the same time, snapping his head up at the sudden roadblock. The guy wasn't much taller than himself, which would mean he was weirdly short for someone his age, brown hair, cloudy blue eyes. The guy looked at him for a second, seemingly surprised, before switching to a professional tone and assumed he was lost. The guy directed him to a room down the hall and sped away.

Super weird.

He was starting to get freaked out.

Upon entering the room, the first thing he noted was it was filled with kids. Some could be recognized from the photos on the walls, a quick glance to their tables and he connected hallway drawings to artists, they all looked around his and his siblings' ages, all beyond 5 years old and no older than 12.

“Oh! He's awake!”

“Mr. Sunny! Come see!”

The kids ran to him. He tried asking where he was, but his voice came out all raspy and deep it surprised him. That can't be my voice, can it?

“You've been asleep a while,” a brown haired girl told him. Thinking, counting on her fingers, “Let's see.. 3 years!” 3 years? That can't be right.. Does that mean dad's not here? Does that mean there's still a chance to prove myself? Does he know I'm alive? Did he miss me? I need to see him. I need to see the others. My siblings. Show them I'm ok. Prove I'm still good enough.

A doctor came not long after, following the girl running to get somebody, and took him to his office to explain the near death state they found him in and how they were lucky he survived. How his body had healed broken, and advised him to take it easy from then on. He asked about his dad, if he could call him, and the doctor broke the news that he wouldn't be able to return home. How his family unfortunately thought he was dead and how his body was still too weak to go anywhere. Oh that brought back memories, his father yelling at him, scolding him, telling him his body was too weak to handle his fire, that training would leave him with permanent damage he didn't want to risk. And thinking of his dad scared him, making him more desperate to prove himself to him. When he insisted he leave, how his family has doctors that could look after him if he just called, the doctor told him with a smile that it didn't matter as he wouldn't be allowed to leave. Ever.

And he freaked out. He screamed and yelled, running and dodging any doctor that tried to catch him. They used their quirks to grab at him, binding him with vines and rope and such, and he lit up. Fire once again engulfed his vision, but this time it was more controlled.

In a fit of rage he burned down the hospital and everyone inside. He felt guilty about the innocent children being casualties, but he had to get home.

Wobbling away from the burning building, he noticed a person watching him from the dense surrounding forest, and in what felt like an instant, the person was in front of him. Staring. Looking at him, he recognized him as the guy he knocked into earlier.

“Aren't you the guy I saw earlier?” He asked the guy, glaring daggers, or as close as he could, he didn't know. “What do you want? You can't stop me from leaving.”

“I would never, Touya. Quite the opposite actually,” The guy said, an excited smile on his face, “I'd like to offer to help take you home.”

“I don't need your help, I can figure it out myself.” He started walking past him

“You're 2 hours away walking, and that's if you know the way. You wouldn't get home until as early as tomorrow morning at that rate.” He stopped, and turned to look at the guy, “I know the way, and I can drive you.”

“Why would I trust you? You could just take me to another hospital.”

“I can set up GPS, you can put in your address, sit in the front seat, and watch it the whole way. Think of it as monitoring me.” The stranger made a point to pull up his phone GPS and extend it towards him, “I don't expect you to trust me. You just woke up in an unknown place, deemed it a threat, and I'm a stranger you met there, but I'd like to do this for you, if you'd let me.” The guy had a small smile on his face, much more natural compared to the professional mask he had in the hospital, and his glare faltered.

“Why would you help me? You don't know me either.”

“No, but I've been watching your progress for a while now, and I want to know you're alright. Plus, you just burnt down a building. If the police come, and I'm sure they will as a sudden fire deep in the forest in the middle of the day is sure to escalate quickly, you could be arrested, interrogated, and potentially charged for arson before any formal investigation on the building is ever processed, for both this case and Sekoto Hill if you tell them your name, and I'm not sure you want your family to find out you're alive through a jail cell.” That got his attention. He hadn't had long to take in everything happening so he'd been thinking erratically and acting on impulse.

Having the time to pause had slowly brought him back to his senses and had been letting him process what he'd been thinking. And what the guy said made sense, for the most part, and he didn't want to let his family worry any more than they would already have to.

“Fine. But I still don't trust you”

“Didn't expect you to. Follow me.”

The ride to his house didn't take long, maybe 20 minutes. The whole way, he thought about seeing his family, the looks on their faces when they saw him. Would they be happy? Sad? Scared? Disappointed? How much happened in the last 3 years? His sister would be 15, getting ready to start Senior High, his brother would be 11, studying to enter Junior High, maybe he'd have the same tutors he did, and the youngest, what, would he be 8 by now? He'd be a year into Elementary by now, if father let him go that is. He probably just hired a bunch of tutors to teach him so he wouldn't have to leave the house. Had father changed? If they all thought he was dead, how were they doing? His siblings would probably be a wreck, aside from the youngest, didn't know him to care he disappeared. Did anyone tell mom? She would be so upset, he loves his mom, saw her when she was happy and has always wanted to make her feel that way again. Had he ruined her further by “dying”? Did father stop neglecting his siblings? Did he start letting the youngest talk to his siblings? He was kind of scared to go back and everything be different, or worse, nothing change at all. But he wouldn't know until he faced it, and he'd have to be brave. That's what heroes did, didn't they?

He'd been pulled out of his thoughts as they parked in front of his house, and he scrambled to unbuckle and run inside, leaving the doors wide open in his haste. He ran through the house to the kitchen. Looking at the calendar, he confirmed it was mid-September. His siblings would have just finished summer break, meaning at this time of day, they'd be at school, and he was technically 16. Wandering the halls of his home, everything felt, empty, devoid of life, like none of them spent time there. He checked his siblings’ rooms, taking in the older tastes they seemed to take up. His sister's clothes were bigger, she had more books scattered around, and apparently she wore glasses, which was new. His brother's room was messy, like he hadn't taken the time to clean that morning, his clothes were bigger than he expected an 11 year old to have, he probably hit an early growth spurt. Taking the chance, he walked to the forbidden part of the house, to his parents bedroom. Or, his fathers now he supposed. Taking in the rooms he hadn't seen in years. Their bedroom, his fathers closet, his mothers closet, touched her dust covered clothes, their bathroom, her soaps, apparently his father hadn't gotten to fixing his mirror, all shattered and a towel thrown over to hide it, the youngest's sad bedroom, his small amount clothing, large books, no toys, looked more like a rental than a home.

Then he heard a crash, from the direction of the training room, followed by a high, pained cry, and deep shouting. He knew that shout anywhere. He ran towards it, nervousness and hope eating at him. The door was open. Before he could say anything, he stopped, and stared in disbelief. There was his father, looming over an 8 year old half covered in ice, large, hot flames everywhere, looking absolutely livid, as his youngest brother struggled to get to his knees. He knew what this was, this was the training room, this was quirk training. His father had replaced him with his younger brother. He'd forgotten about him. Everyone had.

In a daze, he slowly backed away from the doorway, padded down the halls until he was in more familiar territory, and made his way to his room. Upon entering, he looked to be faced with himself. His school picture that had been taken just last year, or, last year for him, sat on a mantle, surrounded by flowers in vases, and candles. A memory. An altar. The room surrounding it seemed to be frozen in time, aside from his bed being moved to make way for the altar, his toys, books, clothes, were all there they'd been left that night, untouched. A thin layer of dust collected on everything, as if it was time for a routine dusting. And everything suddenly sounds so much louder, like his ears popped on a plane. He could hear his father and brother in the training room across the house, the birds outside chirping away in the daylight, the shrubbery blowing in the slight breeze he hadn't realized there was, the pipes settling. And his thoughts became less frantic, less confused, less curious.

More,

Accepting.

Since they already seem to think he's dead anyway, what's the point in staying? He'd burnt down the hospital he woke up from, so if they ask where he went, he'd have no way to prove he was telling the truth, if that was even a hospital at all and not just some wack daycare or something. They'd already declared him dead, and it'd be a hassle to get that revoked. Having to prove he's family and not just some homeless nut job after his father would be annoying, especially seeing how pissed he is right now. They seemed to have accepted his death and moved on, forgetting he was ever there in the first place, so he'd let them keep that peace. Putting his hands together in a prayer, he vowed to leave behind his life as it had been, and start anew elsewhere, somewhere his family wasn't, somewhere they wouldn't find him unless they looked. And he moved to leave.

Left everything the way he found it, nothing taken, nothing moved, straightened out the entryway where he stumbled and hastily kicked shoes around. As a token of clarity, he wrote a note to himself, telling himself goodbye, and left it in the letter box by his altar. Based on how empty it sounded, it seemed like nobody wrote letters to him, and he was fine with that. He had to be. That just meant nobody would notice his note.

Walking out the front door, and shutting it quietly behind him, he walked to the street.

However, the car was still there.

The guy was just sitting in there. He moved a little backwards next to the wall instead of in front of the gate so as to not obstruct the pathway, but it was clear he was there for him.

When the guy saw him, he got out of his car, and just stood there.

Cautiously, he stepped towards the guy, “what are you still doing here?”

“I was waiting for you.”

“Why?”

“I figured you'd want somewhere to stay once you decided to leave.”

“And how'd you know I would decide to leave?”

“I didn't, but I wanted to be here in case you did.” The guy held out his hand to shake, “Agent Takahashi Kaoru, nice to meet you. I'm a spy that was sent to infiltrate and collect intel on the orphanage you burnt down, under the suspicion of being run by a powerful villain.”

His eyes widen, “What?!” A powerful villain? That was an orphanage? He's a spy?! What's going on…

“I know, surprising, huh?” He let his hand down and half-chuckled, "I was 5 years into that, too. Shame it was mostly a waste. Oh well” He shrugged and placed his hands in his pockets.

“Wait wait, back up, a villain ran that place? Then how'd I get there?”

“I'm not entirely sure, but there was a rumor the villain sought you out and saved you before you died.”

“So not my father, huh…” He looked down.

“No, sorry kid. We're thinking that that villain and this wacko doctor he works with were planning on using your quirk for their own benefit. Maybe turning you into a villain and working for them, or just take your quirk altogether. We didn't exactly figure it out.” Takahashi shrugged “Either way, that was my job, trying to find out what they were doing with those kids.”

This guy's weird, I should leave, I don't know if or when dad could come out. I don't want to be seen by him now. “You said something about a place to stay?”

“Ah! Yes, sorry about that. Well let's see, I have a certain amount of connections. I could very well get you into foster care if you wanted, until you can get on your own feet. You could get a new identity, since you're legally dead, if you so desired.” Takahashi pointed in his general direction lazily while talking, counting on his fingers, “I could finagle you into a homeless shelter and leave you with some basic supplies. I could take you to a hospital in the guise of my relative and see what they did to you to keep you alive. I could-”

“Can you get me a new identity?” Touya interrupted, “If I'm legally dead, I can't do much without an identity, right?”

“Yeah, that's true. Would you like to look into your condition? I know some doctors that won't ask the wrong questions and aren't the most personal.”

“Yes please.”

“Can do, if you would?" Takahashi turned around to get back in his car, Touya jogged to join him.

Ducking into the car, he awkwardly buckled and sat back.

“Any tunes you into?” Takahashi asked, hooking his Bluetooth and scrolling his phone.

“Uh not really, I only listen to what's played on radio shows.”

“Really? Any favorites?”

“Mmm Present Mic is funny.”

“Oh hell yeah he is! Wait, you've got 3 years of shows to catch up on, don't you? Hold on.” Aggressively typing into his phone, he suddenly lights up. “They've got recordings we could listen to, I'll play the most recent one.”

The car speakers spit out Present Mic's show, ‘Put Your Hands Up! RADIO’, and they fall into a comfortable silence, occasionally being broken by laughter, as they drive.

.

.

As the sun sets, beautiful orange and pink hues painting the sky and sea from the horizon in the far distance, signaling a days end and the nights fast approach. “Ok!” Takahashi starts, as they're walking out of the clinic. “That was, ah… informative!” He turns to Touya with a smile

“This isn't my jaw…”

“Yeah, but at least you have one now, right?”

“THIS-” he turns to wildly gesture to his face, “isn't my JAW!”

“But otherwise you're healthy, that's good!”

“JAW” he angrily points to his jaw

“With some exercise and frequent check-ups, you should be practically back to normal,” pointing to his arms “maybe even help with that scarring.”

“I don't think you understand the amount of emphasis I'm putting into jaaaaaaaaaww.”

“aww is someone upset they didn't get a lollipop” he mocks a pouty face.

Touya stops, a dead look on his face. He starts walking away, “I'm leaving.”

“I'M JOKING I'm joking hahaa,” Takahashi rushes to his side laughing. “So, have you thought of what you want your new name to be?”

“Huh?” he looks over, a little confused

“Your new name! Are you gonna keep Touya, or change it? What family name are you adopting? Don't tell me you already forgot.”

“Oh yeah.. I haven't thought about it actually, I don't know what name to pick.” Touya looks down, thinking.

“Well that's to be expected,” he shrugs, “you've never had to think about this sort of stuff before. I'd recommend,” he leans slightly closer, “because you're still young, don't change much. It's hard to remember entirely new names if it doesn't mean anything to you. But then again, I'm not too worried since it's you.” he leans away again

“What do you mean by that?”

“Nothing, I'm just sure you won't forget.”

“Yeah, if I ever figure it out, I'm sure I won't forget.”

They make it back to Takahashi's car and both duck in and buckle.

“Well until then,” Takahashi swivels his body towards Touya, “would you like to stay with me?”

“You?” Touya turns his head, his face and mixture of surprise and confusion.

“Yeah. I can't exactly help you if I don't know where you are.” He shifts to bring his right arm forward, counting, again, “You don't have a cellphone I can get your number to, you don't have a place to stay that I can call and check in on, I'm sure you don't have anyone to trust that your dad doesn't know or have a connection to,” Touya looks away, embarrassed and frustrated, “you don't seem like you want to go into foster care, or a homeless shelter, or live on the streets,”

“Alright! Alright, I get it,” he interrupts, “I don't have anywhere to go, and I've got no-one I know to go to.” He turns back to Takahashi, “But that doesn't mean you have to take me, or help me, I'd be fine by myself.”

“Without an identity, you wouldn't exist, meaning you'd never have a chance to live like a regular person, and,” he pauses, then looks at Touya with a look of almost pity. “I'm afraid you'd be influenced by some bad people. You'd have to always resort to the extreme, and, I don't want you to have to live that way” he reaches for Touya's shoulder, placing a hand on it. “I wouldn't be taking you because I feel I have to, I'd be taking you, because I want to give you the best opportunity I can.”

Touya looks at him, confused. “Why would you want that? You don't even know me.”

“Yeah, but, I know you're a kid who's been put into my life who has immense potential to be a great person, and that person needs help and guidance in more ways than one.“ He smiles, “And I believe in the universe's signs, so if this isn't a sign, I'm not sure what else it could be other than cruel.”

Takahashi, sitting here, looking at him, is making Touya even more confused. “You've already helped me home, gotten me clothes, got me food, taken me to get a check-up by a doctor who wouldn't rat about my being alive, offered to get me a new identity, but being taken in as well? That's too much. I won't make you do that.”

“Well good thing you wouldn't be ‘making me’,” he says using his hands to do quotation marks, “I'm taking you because I want to.”

“Why?”

“Ahh... Admittedly, I've begun to care about you.” Touya's chest tightens, “Learning your family background, how you came to the orphanage, they were very open about that by the way,” Touya cringed, “and learning what they planned to do with you, even if it was just speculation, plus getting to know you today, shopping for clothes, stopping for food, at the clinic, and seeing you make that decision to leave the place you were so desperate to go back to, hurt me more than I'd like to admit.” Takahashi looks down and away. “I have a strained relationship with my parents because I don't meet their expectations, but my sister does,” he glances at Touya, “and you today, reminded me of my decision to leave when I was younger. I didn't have anyone to help me then, but I have the chance to help someone in a similar situation.” He turns to fully look at Touya, whose eyes are glossed over, “I want to be there.”

Touya sniffles, and as he feels the tears coming, he says in a shaky voice, “What are you asking me?”

A small laugh escapes Takahashi as he answers, “Would you like to come home with me Touya? Stay with me for however long you need? However long you want?” He takes Touya's hand, “And, if it's not too much to ask, would you take my family name for your new identity?”

“I..I don't know…” Touya looks away.

“I'm sorry if it's too sudden-”

“I MEAN-!” Takahashi's mouth snaps shut, “I guess, if you really want me to, I can.” Touya says quietly, ears flushed.

And suddenly. His world lit up brighter than ever. .

After that day, Takahashi made sure to make him comfortable. He got him his new identity through a friend, now having a legal ID with his picture, birthday, and name; Takahashi Touya. Takahashi got him his own room, plenty of clothes, cellphone, visits to the doctor regularly to help with his scars and keep up on his medical health, changed many things in the apartment to be fire proof (after a few incidents), got plenty of educational books so he's not without education (he doesn't want to risk going back to school), and even made the effort to get him support gear – arm bands, gloves, compression shirt, pants – that help prevent him from burning himself. Takahashi, or he supposed Kaoru, allowed him to dye his hair, and helped him schedule to get piercings when he became an adult. He went out with him to buy his first drink, laughed when Touya spat it back out, and taught him to cook when he showed interest.

It was good.

Touya enjoyed it.

He likes his home. Despite everything, he's happy.

And 8 years later, Touya is now 24. Because his siblings are growing up, he decided when he was 20 to use a nickname, to deepen the casual anonymity he has going on with his friends. Dabi, cremation, like his quirk. It's simple, makes a point, and keeps his name unknown unless someone looks at his legal records.

Now, he has a predicament.

Throughout the past months, hell, years, he'd been trying to get a long term job. Receptionist, security, office drone, babysitting, public cleanup, important escort, janitor, fast food, wherever he applied, he never got past the first interview, even a call back would've been nice. People tend to make promises and then make up some story after talking about how they'll call him back after looking some things over, but he never gets that call. He never gets the call, he never gets the job, he never gets a chance, only way he makes any money is by side jobs through connections from Kurogiri, or Giran, even moonfish has something once in a while he can call on Dabi to do for him (but it's not preferred..).

So currently he's not “well off” financially, the only reason he has a roof over his head and food on the table would be Kaoru who pays for all the essentials and makes sure the fridge and pantry is stocked. Kaoru has told him many times he's perfectly fine with taking care of him financially –he has plenty of money to spend– but Dabi insists he help out.

They don't have a flashy, modern house, and he's scorched more things than he can count, but Dabi is grateful for what he has, and whenever he does get cash, he treats them both to either food, or new furniture, or pays for something they've been needing. Dabi isn't wasteful either, actually his living habits keep the bills down. Whenever he's home, he keeps the lights off, uses his phone flashlight or lights a small fire to walk around, makes food from scratch, and if anything breaks, if he can fix it, he will. A lot is patchworked; the couch cushions have stitches and patches, the TV stand is propped up by an old phone book, the shower curtain is ripped along the bottom, the door to the fridge has massive dents and the handle is falling off.

That's why, when he applied — in person — to a temporary bartender gig, he was surprised to hear back almost immediately, asking for an interview,

—

Dabi walked down the stairs of the outside basement entrance, slightly into the ground, stepping under the purple and red stained-glass overhang, and opened the door. The bar is a thin, long rectangular strip, with the bar on one side, stools lining the counter, booths on the opposite end, and small two-top tables in the front by the windows.

Looking over, Dabi sees the shop owner, an older man, maybe mid 50s, buried in paperwork and his head in his computer in one of the booths near the back. Dabi walks to his side, the store owner looks up and apologizes, inviting him to sit.

“I'm really glad you stopped by, Takahashi. Or is ‘Dabi’ preferred? Sorry, I saw something about that on your application.” The bar owner said. Dabi confirmed he preferred Dabi, “It's been difficult finding decent people to work the nights, and my most recent hire quit, unfortunately.”

“I'm sorry to hear that, sir,” Dabi said, “have you just been running things by yourself since? That ought to be tough”

The bar owner made a strained smile “Yes, I apologize for my appearance currently, sleep hasn't been my top priority.”

“You should make it your top priority, above all else” Dabi said, leaning forward in his seat, “You shouldn't overwork yourself, you may make a fatal mistake. You shouldn't take that chance, sir.”

The bar owner chuckled. “I appreciate your concern, really, thank you, but that's why I'm interviewing you.” Gesturing to Dabi, “You seem talented, your resume said you've done all sorts of jobs,” he motions to the paper resume under his left arm, running his finger along the printed text “from repairs and manual work, to cooking, even as a bartender once before. Is there any way you can tell me about that?”

Dabi lifts a hand to his neck, rubbing the back “it was nothing special, an acquaintance of mine runs a local bar, and during the day, he'd teach me how to make drinks, and I wound up working for him for a bit until he went out of business.”

“Interesting,” the bar owner said, “how confident would you say you are in your skills?” he asks, tilting his head slightly.

“Pretty confident I can make something drinkable,” Dabi said sarcastically. The bar owner laughed, “Whatever you ask, I can make, I've had some pretty bizarre requests myself.” Dabi leans back in his chair, getting comfortable, “I'm well versed in the laws, as well, know what's legal to sell and general procedures for anything that gets out of hand.”

“Perfect, you knowing that, for me, is just standard expectation, it's good to know in case any legal trouble sturrs.” the bar owner said. He quickly lifts his hands, “Not that that happens! Just precautions.”

“Yes, of course.”

He paused, biting the inside of his cheek.

Dabi looks at him expectantly, eyes suddenly reflecting the dread in his heart, waiting for that excuse, waiting for the handshake and promise of a call back, going home to nothing, dead-end hope that it might go somewhere, something.

The bar owner looks at him, holding his tongue, as if being cautious with his wording, and Dabi's body feels heavy. Any smile or good feeling he had coming into this, any hope, instantly went away. Disappointment lingers in his head.

“I'm going to be frank with you,” Dabi snaps his full attention “because you seem like you understand better than anyone else I've interviewed. When you interview enough people, you can tell from the first moments if you want them to work for you or not, whether they'll represent your image or not.” the bar owner said. Dabi slowly nods along, nerves eating at him. “When I ran into you outside my bar, I'll be honest, I was a little skeptical, and admittedly, it was because I've had trouble trusting new hires, and I know that it's not something you can control, but it made me hesitant. But you taking the time to introduce yourself, hand me your resume instead of just submitting online like everything else nowadays, it was unexpected. You made a good impression. After a brief conversation and going through your resume, I felt like you could be a good candidate.” The bar owner said, he smiles “And this interview just furthers that feeling.”

Dabi sits still, calm demeanor, slight smile on his face, but in his mind, he's speechless, mind blown, unbelievable.

“I want you to work for me, even just for one night.” The bar owner said “The position you signed up for is only temporary, but if you do well, I'd like to pitch you the full-time position, if you're open to it.” The bar owner smiled.

Dabi smiled. "Thank you so much sir"

—

Dabi was admittedly excited; for the first time in a long time, he'd gotten a real, legal job, and they wanted him, it's not a desperate impulse decision pressured by higher-ups, and it's not an illegal side job from Kurogiri. It's a legal job from a complete stranger making real money.

Over the next few days, the bar owner, introduced as “Ono Daichi”, had been messaging him with job forms and updates describing work culture, bar rules, uniform, and the general layout. Dabi was surprised to find the bar owner was not lying about his lack of staff. When asked, he said there was only him and his wife to run the place, and because the new hire quit without notice, Mr. Ono was working in his place.

Lying on the couch in Kurogiri and Shigaraki's living room, Dabi's face is stuck in his phone reading Mrs. Ono's latest update, trying to drown out the noise of Toga’s giggles. Dabi is lying on one end of the couch on his phone, Toga and Twice are on the floor in front of the CRT TV watching a horror movie, Twice is hiding behind his hands, but leaning forward, elbows to knees, while Toga is leaning forward in a similar manner, except her hands are over her mouth, failing to hide her toothy grin and stifle her giggling, Spinner is on the other end of the couch cuddling a throw pillow and watching the movie, and Shigaraki is in the middle of the couch, closer to Spinner, playing goat simulator on his phone.

"Jin! Jin!” Toga suddenly shouted after a particularly gore-y scene, “Look at the screen! Look how pretty that actress is with all that blood!”

Twice peaks through his hands, his eyes bulge and he physically turns his head away, covering his eyes again. “I can't watch Toga, it's too much. Show me again!” Twice argued with himself.

“Jin you're no fun” Toga pouted dramatically, “Spinny! How did you like it?” Toga pulls her knees to her chest and tilts her head backwards to talk to Spinner, who has his hand to his chin, focusing on the screen.

“It was certainly interesting, the writing for the scene was very simple, but the actress put on a phenomenal display, making it seem so real,” Spinner eyed the screen inspiring-like. “It truly makes one squirm with distaste. The blood used could be darkened a bit, making it seem more realistic, but the way it just explodes from the wound is beautiful, in its own way” Spinner glances at Toga. Toga nods along, rocking back and forth, listening, waiting impatiently for the next gore scene. Shigaraki side eyes Spinner, judging, but goes back to playing.

Dabi glances at Twice, who's backed up a little towards Spinner, grabbing a blanket on the floor next to the couch, and huddling inside as if he was hiding from the movie killer himself. Dabi does a half-hearted smile and turns back to his phone. The sounds of cards shuffling, clothes rustling, and incoherent dialogue could be heard from the small table behind him, and Dabi tilts his head upside down to glance at Mr. Compress. He's at the small circle table next to the kitchen, practicing various magic tricks, acting as though he's performing for an audience, doing all sorts of dramatic facial expressions and, from whatever dialogue Dabi can make out, having his imaginary audience sitting on the edge of their seats in anticipation for the different tricks. Dabi can admit, he was pretty intrigued and amused by the display.

Dabi gets up from his spot on the couch, heading towards the kitchen for a snack, deciding on his remaining bag of crackers from the last time he was there, and leaning on the wall farthest from the living room.

Scrolling on his phone, Dabi lands on a latest news article about the upcoming Hero Billboard Chart update, heading the article: ‘Hero: Kamui Woods rises in the charts!’ Dabi skimmed the article and deemed it bullshit, talking about recent saves and arrests made, glorifying Kamui Woods specifically, and while the dude was good, all stuff mentioned was group saves, group arrests, things nearby heroes worked together to settle. All related articles talked about popularity, raw strength, and approval ratings, all good, but dismissing the other ranking factors, factors in which Dabi believes should be focused on more, such as contribution to society, investigation efforts, and battle flexibility – not focused highly by the public, but very important nonetheless.

Continuing his scrolling, he is interrupted when he receives a text from Kurogiri.

Hello Dabi,

I apologize for the inconvenience, but could I ask a favor of you? I just remembered I need more laundry detergent, but I'm suddenly staying late and my shift ends after the bar closes today. Would you mind going to the store and grabbing some? I will send you the store name and brand I usually buy and send you some money.

Thank you,

Kurogiri

He was such an old man. Dabi snorted and wrote back,

K

I can go whenever

Dabi presses send and finishes his final cracker before stuffing the bag in the trash and walking to the living room entryway. Dabi’s phone does another ping! showing Kurogiri sent the store name and detergent brand, and not long after, a small portal is created next to him and a flowy hand comes out holding some cash. Dabi takes the cash and the hand retreats and the portal closes.

“Guys I'm leaving, running an errand for Kurogiri” Dabi calls into the living room, all but Shigaraki looks at him and gives him various noises of acknowledgement, a faint goat noise can be heard from Shigaraki's phone as he stifles a giggle. Dabi takes his cue to leave and grabs his hoodie and face mask, pulling them on, he makes his way out of the house and down the street. Luckily for Dabi, it's a cooler day, just windy enough to where a cover-up was needed, but Dabi's still looked like overkill, somewhat suspicious even.

Unfortunately, the walk to the store given was fairly long, and annoyingly mostly uphill, gracIng him with stares of pity at his less than dignified state, short of breath and sweating, children pointed and asked their parents what was wrong with him, and passersbys contemplated offering water.

Dabi makes it to the store, noticing a person acting suspicious towards the end of the street, but pays it no mind, going into the store, knowing if he was any problem, someone would show.

– 5 minutes later, somewhere close by –

Hawks and Best Jeanist are on patrol, walking along the streets of Japan. Chatting to one another, occasionally stopping for some fans. Within the past 4 hours alone, they've stopped 3 robberies, assisted in 2 arrests, and talked to 23 fans – most offhandedly, some for pictures, some for autographs. So far today, there hasn't been too many news breaking fights or arrests for them. In other words, boring, Hawks was bored.

“...that's why it's best to keep a clean appearance, seeming high maintenance gives off the impression of professionalism.” Best Jeanist said, “It tells others one cares about their hygiene, attention to detail, and takes pride in how they present themselves and others.”

“And I suppose this is an offhanded way of saying you want to ‘spruce me up’?” Hawks lifted his hands, doing air quotes. He turns to Best Jeanist with a smile, “sorry, but I quite like my style, whether it screams self-respect, or just rolled out of bed.” Hawks stuffs his hands in his pockets and turns forwards.

Best Jeanist nods, “That confidence and brush-off attitude is commendable, and I respect it,” He glances towards the street before looking back at Hawks, “but you'd really look better in some jeans and your hair combed through…”

Hawks laughs. “Trust me, I wouldn't. The jeans maybe, but definitely not slicked back hair.”

Best Jeanist suddenly stops, eyes fixated down a wide road. Hawks stops a little farther forward and looks over, following Best Jeanists gaze, spotting a, for lack of a better word, suspicious looking individual monitoring what looks to be a fabric store.

Hawks steps back and leans towards Best Jeanist, “That's strange…” Best Jeanist whispers to Hawks, “yeah” he whispers back. Hawks detaches a small feather from his wings and maneuvers it down the street, past light posts and people, and lands it next to the person. Hawks can hear the person muttering to themself, and identifies them based on voice and general demeanor as a guy, maybe in his late 30s.

“From what I can hear, he's planning on robbing that fabric store, but he's waiting on support, which is late.” Hawks says, hand covering his mouth as he focuses on listening to the barely coherent complaints from the guy. He looks over to Best Jeanist, “I'll go fly above to the store's rooftop, you take a walk down the street, see if having 2 pros around scares him away. If not, we'll wait for his buddies.” He smiles and steps to the street. Hawks extends his wings and takes off, going high before taking a slow glide above the street, landing on the fabric store rooftop, he acts like he's doing regular surveillance. The potential robber sees Hawks land, and ducks for cover at the entrance of an alleyway, cursing under his breath. Best Jeanist takes down the street soon after, also acting like he's just casually on patrol, and when he's within sight, Hawks does an obvious wave to him. The potential robber looks over to see Best Jeanist wave back to Hawks, and freaks out, brings out a walky talky and yells about how there's pros, fleeing into the alleyway.

Hawks flies down to Best Jeanist, “Alright! Go us!” Hawks exclaims with a smile, raising his hand for a high five, only to be rejected.

Suddenly, there's a scream ‘omg! It's Best Jeanist! And Hawks too!’ and people come surrounding the two pros, asking for autographs and pictures. Hawks automatically smiles and complies, posing and signing, answering questions.

-

Dabi finished shopping. Kurogiri texted Dabi after he was finished paying for the original item, asking him to buy more things, luckily in the same store, which was nice, but Dabi was drained. He'd never realized how many things could be in a store besides food, he would have been lost as to what to buy without Kurogiri's descriptive instructions on brands, and where to find them In the store.

He was ready to go home and sleep.

Dabi walks out of the store to be met with a hoard of people on the other side of the street, leaking into the street – that could cause a public hazzard, don't they know? Slightly curious, he starts on the walk back to Shigaraki's house at a slow pace, eying the large crowd, trying to see what the ruckus is about. Dabi sees Best Jeanist in his tall glory, towering over the civilians, and a hint of red beside him. From what he can tell, it looks to be an ambushed meet-and-greet, asking for autographs and pictures. Dabi lost all interest and sped up his walk, turning away. Damn heroes and their egos.

From the corner of his eye, Dabi sees the crowd back up a little bit, including Beast Jeanist, Dabi stops walking in case something bad happens. Then, the small bit of red from before stretching into large, elegant wings, reaching at least 3 meters high. Oo's and Ahh's, as well at small clapping could be heard from the surrounding civilians. Impressive, Dabi thought. The wings compressed a little, then did one big flap, sending the owner high into the air, where Dabi could now see it was Hawks, who was now hovering above the crowd, wings flapping to keep him afloat. Dabi rolls his eyes, and turns to walk away, back to Shigaraki's house and then home.

-

Hawks notices Dabi across the street suddenly walking away and looks over, noting his sketchy choice of clothing and speed walking away, carrying grocery bags, and putting it in the back of his mind before turning his attention back to the noisy crowd below, rescuing Best Jeanist from their grips.

.

.

Dabi arrives at his apartment building, walking in, and going straight to the elevator. Having lived there since he was 16, he takes his mask and hood off comfortably, not nervous of passing eyes. When he reaches his floor, he steps out of the elevator and down the hall. On his way, his floor neighbors greet him with a “hello Dabi” and he greets them back with a wave.

The people who live by Dabi are very nice, often starting conversations with him and bringing food for him, especially the lady diagonal to him, although, he's sure she just has a crush on Kaoru. Dabi's apartment is at the end of the first hall, on the left side. He digs for his key, inserting it into the bolt lock, unlocking the door. Walking in, you're faced with the living room across the room, and the kitchen next to the door, with the bedrooms and bathroom down the small hallway. Dabi steps in the apartment and locks the door, glancing at the assortment of mail on the kitchen island, he takes off his shoes.

“Back so soon Tou?” Dabi heard a voice call. Dabi looks up to see Kaoru, walking out from his bedroom, still in his pajamas, a blanket draped over his shoulders. “I thought you'd be gone for a day at least, it's barely past 2:00 PM.” He walks to the kitchen island and leans over it.

“I went on an errand for Kurogiri, so I'm drained, I feel like I could win a ‘longest sleep competition’ or something.” Dabi walks to the mail on the counter and starts sorting through it. None of the mail is ever his, but he’s always liked going through it.

“Haha ok, gotcha” His roommate smiles, “I have to leave for work around 6 today, so what should we do for dinner?” Kaoru walks to the fridge, opening it and looking inside. “We have some leftover pasta from Friday, we could just reheat that.” Dabi sets down the mail and walks over to the fridge behind the roommate, leaning down over his shoulder to look in. Despite being almost 20 years younger, Dabi is still a good 3 inches taller than him at full height.

“I could make some garlic bread too, add some cheese for yours.” Dabi says

Kaoru turns his head fast, 90°, and looks Dabi in the eye “Yes.” He says with an excited smile, “Yes you could.”

Dabi chuckles, “Alright I'll get on that in a bit,” he stands up, turning around. “I'm going to change fast.” He walks off towards his room.

“Oh! Alright.” Kaoru called after him.

The rest of the night was fairly slow after that. Kaoru heated up the leftover pasta, bringing out the Parmesan and plates for the pair, Dabi made up the garlic bread for his roommate, adding extra cheese, and the two settled on the couch, Dabi on the end closest to the kitchen, draped a throw blanket over top their laps, and turned on the TV. When 6:00 pm rolled around, Kaoru went to change and took his leave, taking one of the envelopes from the island counter, and Dabi stayed on the couch, eventually falling asleep to a nature documentary.

The next time he awoke was to the sound of a police siren speeding down the street below.

His eyes shot open and he sprung up into a sitting position from adrenaline. As the sound drowned out, Dabi’s body relaxed, feeling heavy and sore. Dabi lowered the volume of the still playing TV and groaned, closing his eyes and laying back, succumbing to his body's drowsiness. Time ticked by slowly, the TV playing the same channel, but a different episode of the documentary he fell asleep to in the background, something about penguins. Minutes felt like hours, lying there on his back, he started absentmindedly tapping his foot, the action straining his calf muscles. His eyelids started to feel lighter, his consciousness forefronting. Eyes still closed, the TV grew louder, crickets could be heard outside from the window, the wall clock across the room ticking, he could smell the BO from his clothes, a waft of the spaghetti sauce from the plate next to him. The blanket getting heavier on his body, hugging him uncomfortably, bringing his mind to focus on all the areas his foot grazes as he taps, the feeling of the springs underneath the cushions digging in his back and hips. His mouth grew dry and tasted gross, having forgotten to brush his teeth after eating. Eyes swollen and sleep chasing the siren that woke him, he threw off his blanket, turned over onto his stomach with a grunt, and cocked his head over the edge of the couch to the kitchen microwave. His eyes adjusted to the familiar darkened room and he could just make out the blurry illuminated digits, which read 3:18 am.

Dabi turned off the TV, and stood, body aching, making his way to the bathroom and lit a small fire on his finger, the brightness slightly stinging his eyes.

Turning up the power of his flames, he turned to the mirror, taking in his disheveled appearance. His eyes were red, his face flushed and creased, he brought a hand up to his hair, it was sticking up the wrong way from oil, his clothes were all wrinkly and stretched, a quick sniff told him he needed to wash them and another said he needed to wash himself. Dabi grimaced at the smells. Turning on the tap, Dabi washed his hands and splashed his face, brushed his teeth, turned off the tap, and changed quickly.

Knowing he'll definitely have a hard time falling back asleep, Dabi decided to do something. He looked through the fridge, the cupboards, the pantry, the fridge, seeing if he could make something: cookies, brownies, breakfast for later, second dinner, anything. He looked at the different stuff he had, and unfortunately, everything he was thinking of making was missing at least one ingredient: flour, eggs, meat, lack of food inspiration, it was the end of the week and that implied a trip to the market, and remembering that made Dabi groan tiredly.

So, he couldn't make something, that's fine, there's another thing he could do to pass the time. Dabi went back to the couch, grabbed his phone and decided to open Twitter; Toga had made him make an account when she heard he didn't have one and is very annoying with retweeting.

He sat down and attempted to scroll past her sea of retweets of the night, but that always proved to be a challenge, varying from cat videos, and accidents, her raving about the injuries concluded, to memes. She made a post tagging Magne about some theory she had, but he didn't pay enough attention to try to understand the flurry of emojis and emoticons used. She retweeted a couple memes about heroes, one anti-Endeavor meme that's clearly meant to poke fun at his brutality and lack of heart at civilians without blatantly ridiculing him, but it was funny, so Dabi retweeted it too. She retweeted a compilation of hero blunders and funny mistakes, them running into poles, missing big jumps by a hare, a lot of Hawks flying into stuff, billboards, peoples windows, trees, and even of some heroes in training and sidekicks slipping on ice or tripping over debris. Toga is one of the few in his group of people to follow the news and villain attacks, and one person she follows is Stain and his murders. She made a post talking about his ideals, while not naming him, and what that means to her personally. He made a point to like it. There wasn't anything amusing after that.

Dabi glanced at the time: 4:36 am, Kaoru wouldn't get off of work until 5:00 am, and Dabi was bored. He debated sitting in the dark for the probable hour he would have to wait for him to get home, but decided against that. He was already bored and twitchy, he couldn't imagine how much worse it would get if he sat with no attempted distraction or something to do, and he wouldn't be able to sleep again anyways. So, with nothing to do for an hour, he reluctantly threw on a sweatshirt, his mask, grabbed his key and phone, and went outside for a walk.

After the fire, he'd always liked taking a walk at night. There was something calming about the cool air along his body, especially during spring, he liked the feeling he got when he would go under a lamppost, it feeling like a stage light, making him center stage in a dark auditorium, the back of mind thought that somebody could be watching him walk from the darkness where he could not see. He felt free, and able to do anything he put his mind to without judgement or expectation, that he had nothing holding him down, he'd let his mind race, his mouth rambling to himself.

He found out a lot about himself on these walks, his dreams, desires, his thoughts on himself and others. Throughout his time adjusting to the big change in his life after waking up from his coma, he found these walks gave him the opportunity to process all that went on. He became his own therapist. If he was having a significantly stressful day and needed time to calm down, he would walk. No matter rain or shine, how cold it was, how far he felt he had to go, he would walk. Kaoru, when Dabi was first brought in, noticed his internal struggles and the impending stress brought on by them. He tried to talk to him, and when that didn't work, he suggested some stress relievers that worked for him, and one of those was taking a walk to gather his thoughts.

Dabi walked along the streets of Japan, cars drove by here and there, he'd pass by parks and train stations, go through parks and commercial markets, noting things he'd like to or have to get the next time he went. He probably walked the entirety of his town's streets and knew his way around like the back of his hand with how often he'd walk around, trying new pathways and finding shortcuts here and there to get to certain places. If you gave him an address, Dabi could probably tell you at least 6 different ways you could get there.

Some of his usual routes included passing along streets with Hero agencies on them, around school campuses, and around train stations. He often felt eyes on him when he walked by these places, whether that be by heroes or hero sidekicks, police officers, or strangers passing by. Dabi always wondered if that was because of general monitoring of their surroundings, or the blatant assumption he was suspicious because of his face mask and hoodie — even though he didn't have his hood up, but whatever.

Dabi didn't spend too long on his walk today, just a couple times around his neighborhood, up and down the hills surrounding it, and along the canal edge before he felt a vibration from his pocket. Taking out his phone, the screen lit up with message notifications from Kaoru.

Hey I'm home

You go on a walk?

Have fun, I'm going to bed

Want to go to the market later? Time to restock

He sent a quick reply and started on his way again.

Yeah we can go later

Goodnight

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Touya's ID cards over time