Chapter Text
Dabi would like to think that the streets aren't the worst place to sleep. Sure, there’s no good way to protect yourself from the elements and you wake up sore more often than not. Still, Dabi would argue that it’s infinitely better waking up to the sounds of drunken men fistfighting than his father reprimanding him for something he hasn’t even done yet.
(Touya, get up! You’re wasting your morning by sleeping in! I will not stand for a lazy son!)
Despite the obvious issues with homelessness (getting robbed every other day, pity looks from strangers, no easy way to get a job, and being constantly dirty), Dabi has to say he doesn’t mind it all that much.
One downside to living on the streets is that other people live there with you. Dabi has been rudely awoken by the feeling of some adult man cuddling up next to him with the intent to ‘keep them both warm’ (It was obvious that that wasn’t what the man had wanted, but Dabi would like to think about that as little as possible please) too many times now. He’s had to borrow from, share food, and steal with brittle, sunken-eyed people who’d long lost hope of returning to a normal lifestyle.
So, Dabi has met several odd individuals and likes to think he can easily roll with whatever the weirdos do. It’s this ideology that ends up screwing Dabi over because somehow, nothing could’ve prepared him for the bony, green-haired child who was now eating from his backpack like he owned the damn thing.
“Kid,” Dabi tries, giving the grubby-pawed child his best it’s-four-in-the-morning glare. The boy blinks at him, mouth stuffed with Dabi’s hard-earned groceries. “Hey kid, that’s mine.”
The boy just blinks again. Dabi smothers the urge to scream. He couldn’t afford to let this kid keep eating his food; he had a hard enough time getting by without a real job.
“Sorry,” The kid says, not sounding sorry at all. “I’m hungry, and you have food. I can probably pay you back if you want me to.”
“What I want,” Dabi snaps. “Is for you to stop eating my food and find someone else to bother.”
The boy stares at Dabi for a moment consideringly. He shrugs, dropping the half-eaten apple back into Dabi’s bag. The kid stands up, brushing off his shorts before smiling. It’s blinding. Dabi isn’t sure he’s ever seen a smile so bright, not from his household, anyway.
“My name is Deku, by the way!” The boy- Deku- says. “What’s your name? Do you have a quirk?”
“Uh-” Dabi flounders for a moment, completely lost on what to say in response. “My name is Dabi. I have a quirk.” What an odd question. Other than Natsuo, Dabi has never met a quirkless person, much less a quirkless person willing to admit it to a stranger’s face.
“Can I see it?” Now Deku is shuffling closer to Dabi with a determined look on his face, and it reminds Dabi of Fuyumi from when she was eight.
(“Fuyumi, you know how much work you have to do to get a teaching licence?” Touya muttered, giving her his best unimpressed stare. Fuyumi stuck her tongue out but otherwise didn’t react to the teasing.
Instead, she set her shoulders and put on a brave face. “I’ll just have to work harder than I thought,” She declared. “I’m not going to let some math get in the way of my dreams!”
Natsuo let out a loud cheer, causing Touya to cover his ears at the sudden noise. “Yeah!” He shouted, pumping his fist into the air. “Yumi’s gonna be a teacher!”
Shouto, bless his two-year-old heart, cheered alongside Natsuo despite not understanding a word Fuyumi said. Touya just rolled his eyes. Nothing was stopping her, huh?)
“Step back,” Dabi grumbles, pushing Deku’s face away with two fingers. He considers the request Deku had made moments before. Show him his fire? Why would he do that?
…Why wouldn’t he?
Dabi sighs, gesturing for the kid to sit in front of him. “I’ll show you my quirk, but you can’t get too close, understood?” Deku nods sharply.
Dabi lights a small blue fire in his palm and lets it dance across his fingertips. He looks up at Deku and almost lets the fire go out with his surprise.
Deku is beaming. His eyes are shining with literal stars, and he looks like he’s about to ask a billion questions.
“Oh my God! That’s amazing! How hot is your fire? How much can you produce at once? Can you change the temperature it burns at? does it change colour depending on how hot you make it? You have a lot of burns, so I’m guessing your quirk isn’t well-suited for your body, but why is that? Does the fire only come out of your fingertips? I’m pretty cold right now, so do you create the fire yourself or do you take heat from around you? Did it start as blue or did you have to train it to get it that way? Can you manipulate it or is it out of your control once it starts to spread? Wait, can you breathe fire? My dad could breathe fire. Your fire is prettier than my dad’s was, though, because yours is blue. Can you make it any colour you want? can you make it red? That was a dumb question, fire usually burns red. It’s just that red is my favourite colour. Oh wow, I have so many questions…”
Deku dissolves into incoherent muttering halfway through his tirade, and Dabi wonders briefly how he can talk for that long without stopping to breathe. The kid raises a couple of good points, though.
“Well-” He’s out of his depth. “My fire is blue because of how hot it is. It used to be red, but I used to train my quirk a lot. The fire comes from anywhere on my body, I suppose, but I’m not sure how that works.”
Deku frowns, pressing his finger up against his mouth in contemplation. “We should do some tests!”
“We?”
Deku just nods. “Yeah! I want to write this down so we don’t forget, but my notebooks are with my backpack.”
“You don’t want to go get it?” Dabi asks.
“Well, no…” Deku rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, like a child who just got caught stealing candy. “Someone stole it, so I can’t get to it right now.”
Dabi’s eyes narrow. “Someone stole an eight-year-old’s bag? What the hell?”
“I’m ten, actually,” Says Deku, who obviously has his priorities straight. “But yeah, someone took my backpack. And it sucks that they took it because it had all of my stuff, like my food and my toys and my notebooks and my sketchbook and my pens and pencils and my lockpicks and my change of clothes and my blanket and my knife and my money, too!”
Deku proceeds to list every item he has in his backpack, and Dabi wonders two things.
One, how fucking giant is this backpack?
Two, why does a ten-year-old have a knife? And lockpicks? Just who is this kid?!
Dabi rubs his eyes in a desperate attempt to realise that he’s dreaming. He is not, which sucks immensely, but at least he has something to do now.
“Look, Deku, was it?” A nod. “How about this? I’ll help you track down the guy who stole your shit, and you buy me lunch or something with the money you mentioned having. Deal?” It isn’t until after his proposition that Dabi realises that he probably shouldn’t be swearing around a child, but this kid lives on the streets so it’s unlikely Dabi will say anything Deku hasn’t heard before.
…He should probably still keep the language to a minimum.
But his dad never shied away from swearing in front of him, so…
Dabi should not be taking advice on how to deal with children from the child abuser. Maybe he should take a page out of Mom’s book.
He cringes at the thought.
Deku, oblivious to Dabi’s internal dilemma, tears up at his earlier words. “Please, if you can! I would be really grateful if you helped!”
Dabi nods absently. “Tell me about the person who stole your backpack,” He says. Then, he realises belatedly. “You should probably also describe your backpack to me, just in case.”
Deku takes a shuddering breath and the same determination from earlier returns to his eyes. Maybe it never left.
Dabi was certainly never paying attention.
“Okay,” The kid says. “The man who took my backpack was kind of bald? Like, there was a big patch of his hair missing from the back of his head! And his teeth were kind of wonky. My mom says that you have to brush your teeth every day to keep them from getting wonky. Do you think that man forgot to brush his teeth?”
Dabi gently (read: not at all gently, but he was trying) guides Deku back to the right subject.
“Oh! And his hair- well, the hair that he did have- was brown! He was wearing a green jacket and his socks were red! Did you know red is my favourite colour, Dabi?”
“I did. Tell me about your backpack; is it red?” Dabi supposes the information he got out of Deku would have to be enough for now, seeing as the kid’s brain runs a mile a minute and he talks even faster.
“No, my backpack is yellow! Like, bright yellow! My mom used to say it reminded her of those rain boots and jackets that kids wear in cartoons. My backpack is kind of dirty now, though. My mom used to wash it when it got dirty, but-”
“Anything else?” Dabi interrupts. “The longer we spend talking, the harder it will be to find your bag.”
“Oh, sorry,” Deku mumbles, sheepish. “Uh- not that I can think of! I’ll tell you if I remember anything else.”
Dabi sighs and packs up his bag, signalling that the conversation is over in such an obvious way that even he could pick up on it, despite his lack of social skills.
(Fuyumi would be proud to hear him admit he’s less than stellar at conversation. Natsuo would probably riot. He couldn’t care less what Shouto thought of him)
Deku does not get the hint. “Anyways, how does someone with a fire quirk get burnt? Aren’t genetics supposed to stop that kind of backlash?”
Dabi debates telling the kid to fuck off and mind his own business, but the thought brings him back to when he was a curious ten-year-old, and how upset he used to get when people wouldn’t answer his questions. (No matter how invasive)
“I was born extremely prematurely, so my doctor’s best guess is that it messed up my chances of having a quirk that’s suitable for my body. It doesn’t make sense, because my sister was born when she was supposed to and her quirk is like mine but reversed, but…”
Deku nods in agreement. “I bet that being born early is part of it, but maybe it’s just bad luck? I read somewhere once that quirks were like the genetic lottery! Sometimes you win and sometimes you lose. Maybe you just lost?”
And doesn’t that sting? Dabi’s never heard it phrased that way, but it makes so much sense that it hurts.
He was doomed from the start. Dabi was born ten weeks early, give or take, but he was destined to be a failure before that. His genetics themselves were wrong, and Dabi lost. He lost and he had to pay the price for something out of his control.
His own father, mad for power and fame and strength. Strength Dabi couldn’t have because his body just couldn’t handle it. Fuyumi had the same problem, albeit to a smaller degree. She got cold so easily and never burned in the summer heat, and her frost quirk nipped at her fingertips and made her skin pop with goosebumps. She lost the lottery too.
Natsuo wasn’t even in the lottery. His fourth birthday came and went, and Endeavour had to face the fact that one of his children was quirkless. It must’ve stung, to hear that the child you were banking on making you rich wasn’t interested in scratching the tickets.
…Maybe he’s taking the metaphor too far.
Deku brings Dabi back from his thoughts with a deprecating laugh. “At least you were in the lottery, though. I didn’t even get to enter.”
Or maybe he isn’t.
Dabi can’t help the small hitch in his breath when Deku says it. The kid’s eyes get a little wider, his stance a little more protective. “You’re quirkless?” Dabi asks quietly.
“Uhm, yeah…” Deku trails off, eyeing the ground. “You don’t have to help me with my bag if you don’t want to.”
Dabi blinks. What? “What are you talking about, kid? I already said I was going to help you, and besides, it’s not like I have anything better to do.”
“But,” Deku looks like he’s going to cry again. “But Kacchan said that nobody wants to help a quirkless person! And-and I’m useless and weak and nobody cares about me! Why would you want to help me anymore?!” Fat tears roll down his cheeks, and Deku starts sobbing before he can finish spouting his self-hatred bullshit.
Realistically, Dabi knows that quirkless people experience really bad discrimination, especially in Japan. He grew up alongside Natsuo, and it isn’t like he didn’t notice the stares and disgusted comments. Endeavour himself had said something along the lines of quirkless people are burdens to society, and if they can’t find a way to be helpful, they’ll drag the rest of the world down.
The whole ‘be useful or perish’ mindset that Enji had was a difficult one for Dabi to wrap his head around. Endeavour always said that quirkless people couldn’t let their ‘inferiority’ drag others down, so they had to work harder and have more practical jobs so that those with strong quirks could have the spotlight. However, he also said (to Rei and Rei alone, although Dabi was listening in) that he wouldn’t trust any work done by a quirkless person. What if they made a mistake?
It was complicated and messy, and Dabi could never figure out the layers of prejudice Endeavour had. He knew Natsuo took it hard, seeing as he was already the most neglected Todoroki child even before his diagnosis (Dabi hates calling it that), and his quirk status just made it worse.
Dabi remembers a particularly harsh training session the day they found out. He can still feel phantom burns, although that might partly be because of his scars.
Deku’s internal conflict regarding his quirk just solidifies Dabi’s thoughts on quirkless discrimination. It is horrifying and a sign that society needs to change.
Dabi knows he can’t change Deku’s view of himself in one speech, but he supposes this will have to do for now. “Deku, I don’t care if you’re quirkless or you have the most powerful quirk in existence. Your ‘usefulness’ is completely unrelated to the situation we have on our hands. Some grown adult stole your shit because they’re a lowlife bastard who doesn’t think about anybody but themself, and I’m not going to stand for shitty people being shitty, especially to children.”
Deku’s lower lip wobbles dangerously as Dabi continues. The tears are still coming. “Also, I don’t think you’re useless. Your little quirk analysis thing you did earlier was fucking cool. A little creepy, given that we had just met, but still cool.”
…Why is he putting so much work in for a kid he’s unlikely to ever see again after this? He shelves the thought to worry about later.
“Oh, by the way,” He tacks on before he forgets. “I have a younger brother who’s quirkless. He’s probably one of the smartest, least useless people I know, so you saying that all quirkless people are useless is insulting my brother’s hard work. Understood?”
Deku’s teary eyes dry instantly. “You do?”
“Why would I lie?” Never mind the fact that Dabi lies constantly; he needs this kid to trust him.
Deku frowns. His small, grimy hands curl into his ratty brown jacket. He lets out a pitiful whine and the next thing Dabi knows, he’s smothered by 127 centimetres (4’1”) of sobbing ten-year-old. He hesitantly wraps his arms around Deku and rubs slow circles into his back, just like how his mother did for him when he was younger.
Deku’s saying something, but his words are drowned out by his crying. Dabi resists the urge to laugh at the poor kid.
“You-” Deku takes a shuddering breath. “You really think I’m not useless?”
“Of course not. You’re just a kid. There’s no point in putting those kinds of expectations on children.”
Deku steps away from Dabi and the two lock eyes. Then, Deku says, whisper-soft, “Do you follow your own advice?”
…And if that isn’t a punch to the gut. Dabi is momentarily breathless by the way this kid has him fully figured out.
the truth is, Dabi can’t help but compare his and Deku’s situations. Chances are this kid had parents who didn’t want to deal with a quirkless kid and dropped him off somewhere to rot. Deku was probably neglected and ignored, hated by his parents.
Dabi had almost the opposite background. His father took too much interest in his abilities and set expectations that were fit for a hero in the making but were placed upon a child who wasn’t ready. Despite that, he wasn’t missed.
That’s probably the only thing he and Deku have in common.
Dabi’s spent a lot of time trying to figure out why he was so important but so replaceable. How he could go from ‘future #1’ to ‘can’t be a hero at all’ in the span of just a few days. He’s not sure if he’ll ever figure it out. All he knows is Endeavour didn’t want him the moment his quirk stopped being perfect, and that meant he must’ve not meant much to the man in the first place.
Dabi knows now that he was never meant to match the vision Endeavour had of him. he was not the strongest, the bravest, the most powerful. Endeavour made Dabi- no, Touya- need his recognition so badly he’d get himself killed for it. Touya wanted Endeavour to look at him in pride.
Dabi wants fear to etch his features when he looks at the villain who killed him.
“I try to.” It’s the truth. Deku nods, satisfied. Dabi groans, pulling himself up from the floor of the alley. He’s too tired to deal with all of this emotional bullshit. “Alright, Deku. If you’re done crying, we should get started on finding your bag. Any ideas on where to start?”
Deku smiles, and although his eyes are still watery and his lips still wobble when he speaks, the kid starts chattering away about where he saw his bag last.
They’re an unlikely duo, Dabi muses, but he’s already agreed to do this and he’s given the kid a pep-talk for fuck’s sake, so he’s too deep to back out now. Somehow, he doesn’t mind it.
—
Izuku likes Dabi. He’s nice and caring, and he gave Izuku a hug when he was crying. Mom hasn’t done that in a long time. Dabi even has a quirkless brother! Izuku doesn’t remember ever meeting another quirkless person, so knowing that one of his friends (Yes, Dabi is his friend now) is related to one makes Izuku really happy.
He’s worried about Dabi’s scars, though. They look painful. Izuku wonders when Dabi got them since they look old. He’s decided not to ask, in case the scars bring back bad memories for Dabi. Izuku knows he wouldn’t like it if Dabi asked questions about his scars, so he’ll keep his curiosity to himself this time.
Plus, it’s the least he can do for all the help Dabi is offering.
Dabi said that he wanted to start searching for Izuku’s bag right away, but when he stood up he swayed and had to hold onto the wall to keep himself from passing out. Izuku had very decisively told him that he wanted to get breakfast first. Dabi had argued, but Izuku made the offer in hopes that Dabi would eat something that made him feel better, so he demanded they get food.
Thankfully, Dabi didn’t protest much after that.
He did, however, protest entering the cafe they had decided on.
“Deku, look at me and tell me the truth. Do you really think people would look at me and think ‘Wow, that’s a respectable young man! I’m sure he’s not up to anything villainous!’” Dabi mutters sarcastically.
Izuku huffs and crosses his arms over his chest. “I think you’re being too hard on yourself!”
“How about this? You go inside and order for us, and I’ll give you some of the money to do it. Deal?”
Bribery. One of the lowest forms of persuasion. Izuku will not fall for Dabi’s tricks.
Izuku enters the cafe with 2,000 yen in his hands and a mission. He goes up to the counter and orders a chocolate muffin for himself and a poppyseed muffin for Dabi, as well as hot chocolate for both of them. It’s starting to get cold out, so Izuku doesn’t think Dabi will mind the hot drink.
He’s about to head outside to inform Dabi of his meal choices when he notices a man wearing black with a dark grey scarf. It’s Eraserhead! Mom always said not to bother heroes when they were off their shift, but she wasn’t here to tell him off, so…
“Hey, uh- Eraserhead, sir?”
The hero in question startles at the sound of Izuku’s voice, and he makes a little gesture that Izuku interprets as ‘Are you talking to me?’
“Sorry! I’m sure you’re busy!” Izuku quickly backtracks. “It’s just- you’re one of my favourite heroes and your quirk is really cool! I have a ton of questions about it and your support gear, but my…”
Wait, what does he call Dabi? He can’t say Dabi’s his friend because then Eraserhead will be suspicious of why Dabi, an adult (probably), and Izuku, not an adult, are hanging out.
“...brother is waiting for me.”
Eraserhead’s eyes narrow slightly, but the hero doesn’t run off or ignore Izuku completely, so he takes it as a win.
“You’re probably the first civilian to ever recognise me,” Eraserhead says, and Izuku feels accomplished. “You said I was one of your favourite heroes? Why’s that?”
“Well, uh-” Izuku pauses for a moment to get his thoughts in order. “You’re just a good hero, I guess! You’re super fast and sneaky and you take care of bad guys without hurting them unnecessarily! You also fight quirkless, which is awesome, and you patrol near where I live so I see you pass by my house sometimes! Once I saw you feeding the stray tabby across the street and I was super thankful for that because my mom never let me feed the stray cats so the tabby was probably really hungry. Also-”
“Deku?” It’s Dabi. Izuku whirls around to come face-to-face with the scarred man, who is currently giving Izuku a look. “What happened to ‘get breakfast’? Got distracted or something?”
Izuku nods sheepishly. He totally forgot. “Well- I just-” He throws his hands around in an attempt to gesture as to why he wasn’t paying attention to breakfast.
Dabi snorts. “Right, so that clears that up. Go get us our food, will you?”
Izuku nods sharply and darts off to the counter to check on their breakfast’s progress. The waitress gives him a soft smile and carefully recounts the amount of time it will take before everything is ready. Izuku waits patiently and does not think about rejoining the conversation that’s now between Dabi and Eraserhead. He does not.
—
Shouta isn’t a fan of this ‘brother’ character. At first, he was just startled that a civilian, let alone a child, was able to recognise him. The green-haired boy was chatting away pleasantly, listing off reasons why Shouta was his favourite hero (and wasn’t that strange? Shouta had never met someone who didn’t know him personally refer to him as their favourite hero) when the CEO of Hot Topic marched on over to Shouta’s table.
He called the kid ‘Deku’. What an odd nickname. He chastised the kid for getting distracted before sending him off to pick up their food.
As soon as Deku was out of earshot, Shouta put all of his focus on Mr. Mysterious. “So, are you the brother he mentioned? Sorry for keeping you waiting.”
The man’s eye twitched. “...Yeah. He loses focus easily so it’s not your fault. Sorry if he interrupted your morning.”
“It’s no problem.” Shouta feels tense, seeing as there’s no way this man is related to that child. There’s no familiarity, no fondness, no shared jokes or easy smiles. Something is wrong, and both he and this stranger know it. Shouta plays it off the best he can. “He said I was one of his favourite heroes. I don’t go around flaunting my profession, so it’s interesting when I interact with someone who knows my hero persona.”
The ‘brother’ bristles considerably. “You’re a hero?”
“I am. Is that a problem?” Probably too forward, but Shouta’s not one for prolonging unnecessary conversations.
“I’m not a huge hero fan,” The man answers, shrugging. “They tend to be treated like glorified celebrities rather than civil servants, and some people think they couldn’t possibly do anything wrong. No offence.”
Shouta can’t help but agree on some points. He knows that the hero system is flawed (some parts more than others) but he can’t deny that there are some pretty damn good heroes out there who are even better people.
“None taken.” The two ease into silence, and while it isn’t unbearable, there’s an underlying tension that Shouta can’t seem to shake. Deku’s ‘brother’ is clearly uncomfortable.
“Look,” The man says, watching the kid closely. “I’m not stupid, and I know you aren’t stupid, so I’m not going to pretend that I’m related to that kid. Deku’s someone I met maybe fifteen minutes ago and our ‘friendship’,” He puts the word in air quotes. “Is more of a deal of mutual benefit than anything.”
…Well then. Shouta wasn’t expecting the guy to just air it all out, but at least he doesn’t have to dance around the subject anymore. What the hell does ‘mutual benefit’ between an adult and a child look like? “And how am I supposed to believe that you aren’t taking advantage of a clearly vulnerable child?”
The man shifts. “I wouldn’t fucking do something like that. The kid got his backpack stolen and he’s buying me food if I help him because I caught him eating my shit and he owes me. Chances are that once this all blows over we’ll never see each other again and Deku will go on his merry way to bother someone else and I will get some peace and quiet.”
Shouta frowns. “Why is a child buying you food?” The answer feels obvious. This man must be homeless, and he’s using an impressionable child to get a free meal. Shouta just doesn’t want that advantage to be used in any other way.
“I’m broke as shit. He offered, anyway.” Is the man’s response. “I know this sounds sketchy but I genuinely have no idea how to prove to you that nothing weird is happening other than letting you tag along with us today.”
“You’re helping him find his bag? You said it got stolen, right?”
“That’s what the kid said. I don’t know for sure.”
Shouta drops his head onto the table with a loud thunk. “Let’s make a deal,” He says because he can’t think of anything else. “You and this kid go grab his bag and when you’re done, you meet me at the Musutafu police station so I can help you further. It’s obvious that neither of you have a safe place to go, and I’m willing to bet that you’ll take any help you can get.”
The man looks even more uncomfortable at the mention of the police. He definitely has something to hide. “And if you aren’t there when we show up?”
“Ask for Detective Tsukauchi Naomasa. I’ll brief him on the two of you so he won’t be surprised when you show up.”
“You’re just letting us go, then? Just like that?”
“No,” Because it’s never that easy. “I will be keeping an eye on you two while you do your little search, and when all of this is over, I want legal names and both of you somewhere safer than the streets. How old are you, anyway?”
The man clicks his tongue. “I just turned nineteen. Deku says that he’s ten.”
“Right. That both complicates things and makes them infinitely easier.”
Before either of them can say anything else, Deku comes back with breakfast in hand. “Dabi, I have the food! Let’s eat outside!” The man, Dabi, quickly picks up some of the food before corraling Deku outside. He gives Shouta one last look before closing the door behind him. Shouta recognises that look. Resignation.
Well, no dwelling on it now. He has phone calls to make and a couple of runaways to stalk.