Work Text:
Thirteen years of hell and back, never learning how to regulate anything and never having the help he needed all crashed on one boy at the sight of his youngest sibling down on his knees in front of their so-called father. Everything crashes. Nothing changed even after he died; his father didn’t mourn. He just turned his rage harsher on the youngest.
Three years in a coma changed nothing. He stares at the sight before turning away, numbed anger under the weight of whatever he needed being fully lost. But there’s relief at the same time as he walks so quiet no one can hear.
He sticks to the shadows, feeling as if he watching throw a window of his own body. It’s the same house, same halls. It all feels so different now. This was and will never be a home to anyone. Middle siblings neglected, oldest treated like a bomb waiting to go off, youngest made to be a tool when the others weren’t good enough.
Reality is harsh.
His thoughts pause, finding his feet in front of what’s supposed to be his room. Scarred hands reach out and open it slowly, quietly. He won’t ever stop his quiet walks. But that’s something to realize later.
For now he finds a small shrine right neck to this old room. A photo of his tired face stares back in the school uniform that was just a tad too big on his, faint pink burns on his face from the fires. He looks at his hands as he picks them up to pray.
That life is over. But as he thinks of who to be and finds a name, rage cuts through at what has happened. The past can’t return. Reality has been cruel. That man won’t do anything good and the teen’s jealousy fades. Peace settles some as he makes a decision.
The prayers end quickly at the sound of heavy steps. He knows them. He knows where to hide and quickly flies into a spot. They think him dead. He realizes nobody will know.
What he experienced. What’s happening now. A so-called father who built up his dream to be what his son wanted only to crash it and hurt more when he wasn’t good enough. Two failed kids. Then the unlucky fourth who has the perfect quirk but isn’t the right personality who’s now being beat into it. None of this is fair. If he won’t be swayed by death then what will change him?
Nothing. So Dabi waits, lingering. Half still a scared child but now a teen full of scars that forever on display. Half a kind of anger that brings peace and makes things clearer. A man like that doesn’t deserve a child at all.
Dabi doesn’t know how long it is before he hears that front door shut. It’s school hours, no one else will be home. He hates that he knows Fuyumi and Natsuo will be okay because they were never ever close to good for him.
His footsteps hit the floor, quiet and quick. Easily across the building to where he knows his youngest is. A deep breath.
“I can do this. He doesn’t get to get anything good!”
That scarred hand opens the door a little too harshly, making a small dual-colored child flinch. Tiny hands fly up to protect his face before he looks after a moment of nothing. One bright turquoise eye meets two as the brothers look at each other after so long.
“Shoto.” The words feel anxious and forgein in his mouth, the sound of his scratched voice a shock. But the youngest only relaxes. He looks a little confused for a while, face scrunched up in visible thinking. Then he lights up but doesn’t move yet.
“I know you.” The kid sounds on small even though Dabi knows he’s physically bigger than himself was at eight years old. In fact he’s probably the size he was at twelve. And that’s a shock. He really was neglected too.
All thought freezes when Shoto gets up with a limp, that perfect mix of their parents colors staring up at the teenager. He grabs Dabi’s shirt and looks up at him like he’s oh so important. Mismatched eyes are slightly narrowed in thought.
“Touya? Aren’t you dead?” Dabi pauses at the sight of his younger brother, any hate falling away. He draws a breath and shakes his head, not realizing a smile has formed. He speaks before he can think.
“Yeah… I thought I was… but no. I’m alive.” He is. He feels freer than ever. Being alive comes with consequences. And Dabi’s about to make a big one for his dad.
He stares at his youngest brother. He’s a little confused but those dual eyes are happy at the sight of anyone here, having been kept away. Dabi remembers when everyone was split apart. No-one was allowed near Shoto and that hasn’t changed.
So the boy looks at his visitor, accepting everything said easily since that’s his brother. He doesn’t know anything.
“Are you here to stay?” Shoto asks almost hesitantly, scared to be left alone. He’s eight and home alone but now he’s not. His brother back from the dead through all the fire he’s seen and heard of.
Dabi shakes his head, a smaller angry feeling nagging in his brain. “No. Let’s go.” He looks around the bedroom that has nothing in it. Barer than his own ever was. His grip on Shoto’s hand tightens some and the boy flinches but relaxes some, clearly reminding himself. It’s a hand hold, not a wrist being pulled.
Brown and blue eyes look around too. “Where are we going?” He doesn’t let go of his brothers hand. Just trusting that someone else is here. So clueless. The blue eyes probably help but he really doesn’t have any idea of anything after being kept between these walls for years.
“Somewhere. Just away.” Dabi’s voice is a little shaky but clear. Endeavor doesn’t get to have either boy. After all he’s done, you know what? He doesn’t deserve them. Anger bubbles for a moment but the glare is just looking around the room.
Shoto nods, tugging his brother over by his bed. He lets go to dig out a hidden plush, ratted but a figure of All Might, a forbidden being in this house. Never a home. He holds it in one arm and rejoins their hands with the other.
The door is still open some from Dabi’s entrance but Shoto nudges to open enough for both to leave with his shoulder since his hands are full. He starts to walk before realizing his brother isn’t following.
Dabi stares at the room. A wicked grin forms and he reaches, summoning blue fire to his hand. A sweeping arc of orange and blue flames shoots from his palm and covers the room, quickly turning fully orange as it lands on everything. Shoto gasps.
He quickly starts giggling at the sight, surprised by his own laughter. All the fire that has hurt him are suddenly going up in flames itself. He nods up at his brother with a smile now.
And then he moves again, pulling the two through the house in a brisk walk. The older turns them to head out the back door instead. Two blue eyes look down dual hair.
“Call me Dabi now.”
Shoto only glances at him.
“Okay, Dabi.”
And they’re out of the house in a blink, smoke spilling from the windows and ashes covering the ground as it breaks with fire hotter than that house has ever encountered.