Everybody has stories to tell. And sometimes we learn these stories, most of the time we don't. I like to think that those stories can be said without words, without speaking or hearing with your ears. They can be told through art. Painted and inked into the skin. Through the freckles that can be connected like the constellations in the night's sky. Through man-made modifications. Or the physical image of pain… Scars.

Scars. They tell the ultimate stories. Stories that can't be changed or reversed. I find that scars can tell the most fascinating, the most painful, heart-aching and the most beautiful words. Scars aren't ugly or revolting. They could never be that. Personally, I think scars are enticing and should be worn with honour.

I wear mine proudly.

Why won't you?

~Dabi

Chapter Six: Dabi Finds A Girl

Sunset Gym, Red-light District - 22:47

The door was shoved open, and the attendant started, glancing up. He watched as his nightly regular appeared in the doorway. The burned man. A villain. But he knew better than to talk about him. If he opened his mouth, the man would eventually come for him or one of his friends. A shudder raced down the young man's spine. Better safe than sorry.

Dabi moved forward, passed the desk, swiping his card as he walked by. He strolled onto the matted area, shoving his membership card into the pocket of his sweats. He headed towards the free weights where he could idly go about his tasks before returning to the League. Himiko had been incredibly frustrating, and Dabi jumped at the chance to get his nightly breather in the empty gym.

A loud smack made him cringe. 'Normally empty', he thought with a growl. Turning to the noise, he stared in shock at the young woman who beat on the bag. She was back again. Her black and blue hair was tied back in a messy bun with a few odd strands that had slipped out sticking to her face. Her hands were wrapped with white boxing tape, and her clothes were nothing noteworthy, but Dabi still got the irritating feeling that he knew her.

He flinched again as she smashed her fist against the bag; it swung wildly from the force. She grunted and hissed at the pain that erupted along her knuckles.

"You know it's rude to stare," Her voice was soft and breathy as she spied him from the corner of her eye.

He jolted and turned his back on the woman, moving for his regular weights. He lifted one and began a set. The rhythmic sound of her punch the bag set the tempo for his reps.

The next few minutes were spent with him on one side of the small dingy gym and Remy on the other. She wondered at his reaction to her. Did he remember her? She certainly knew him. Dabi...Touya... the eldest of Enji's hoard. He'd run away. Disappearing from his family because of the horrors that Enji inflicted on the children. Remy let her mind wander as she continued her mindless beating. She was content with the silence because it meant fewer problems for her.

"What the hell are you doing here?" His voice caused her to halt mid punch and suck in a breath. He stood to her left, watching her as she beat her frustrations into the bag, "People don't come here this late."

"Well you do," Remy's lips twitched as she fought back a smug grin that threatened to split her face. She kept her face turned from him so that he couldn't see her noticeable laughter.

He huffed and looked her over. She had to be a Hero. He'd seen that blue-black hair before. "Who are you?" He asked, his mouth working before his brain caught up.

She cringed inwardly and looked at the wrapping on her knuckles. The once pristine white tape was now grey and tattered. Remy could feel the skin underneath was raw and tender from the hours of abuse they'd held up against. Not that it mattered, Recovery Girl could fix them in a heartbeat for her. The bag she'd damaged though, that Remy would have to pay for. Not that it bothered her.

"You fucked up your hand?" Dabi asked, studying the wrapping with her. "Come here." He motioned with his hand, not that she could see. The woman shook her head and remained in place. "So, you don't want help?" She shrugged and lifted her fists back into place. "I'll hold the bag for you if you want. That way you can give it all you got."

Remy frowned, "If you want. You don't even know my quirk."

Dabi smirked, "If you have a quirk and if it were super strength, I seriously doubt you'd be here. more than likely you'd in some specially modified place made for shit like that."

"Fine, go for it. I don't care."

He glanced at the wall behind her as he moved to hold the bag and noticed the punching bag on the floor, all beaten into what seemed oblivion.

"How long have you been here, girlie?"

Remy's grin returned, the corner of her mouth wrinkling under her scars, "Long enough." She panted out as she took another swing. Dabi gripped the bag and held it as she landed her blow only to be thrown off balance by the power behind. Delight flared in him. She was interesting.

He studied her face as she swung. She kept her right side turned away from him for the most part, although he could tell she was right dominant in her fighting. She had what looked like scars that covered the entire right half of her face. Her smokey grey eyes glinted as she whaled away on the bag.

Remy let out a yelp as she hit the bag at an odd angle causing her hand to go numb. The shock vibrated up her arm, resonating in her shoulder. She realised she was done with the punching bags, but only out of necessity. Dabi looked at her confused before he noticed her left hand, which she cradled in her other arm.

"Okay, no fighting this time. Come here," he demanded as Dabi tugged on her arm. Remy tripped towards him, letting out a soft puff of air as Dabi steadied her with a grip on the same shoulder that ached. His hands were surprisingly cold through the material of her shirt. Gooseflesh rippled across her skin, and she repressed a shudder. 'It's almost soothing.' He lifted her hand and slowly started unwrapping the tape from her hand and wrist.

"You don't have to do this," She said softly. "Someone from the Vanguard Action Squad shouldn't be taking care of me."

He stiffened. "Taking care of you? Why you a Hero? Meh. It's not often that I see the likes of you. Especially not here in my gym."

"Your gym?" She laughed, "I didn't see Dabi's gym painted outside." He raised an eyebrow at her, tightening his hand on her shoulder. She knew who he was. But then again, who didn't? And she didn't deny the Hero statement. 'This could end badly. The P.O.'s gonna kill me if shit goes down.' He thought.

"Don't panic now." She smirked up at him, "If I wanted a fight, I could have gotten one, and I'd venture to guess that you have no issues with burning this place to the ground if you wanted."

He bit back a laugh, "Yeah if I wanted. But then where would I go to get away from Toga."

"I've heard she's a bit of a basket case." Dabi nodded as he tore a piece of the tape off before getting to the hard part. The skin of her knuckles was bleeding, and the video was sure to pull harshly on the sensitive skin.

"This might hurt." He muttered before yanking on the tape off her left hand. Remy swore and ripped her hand out his grasp.

"Fuck that hurt!"

"I said it might," Dabi sniped at her. He huffed and grabbed her by the elbow, dragging her to a weight bench. "Sit," he commanded. She blinked as he forced her down on the worn leather. He eyed her. Remy leaned forward on her elbows, staring at her left hand. The skin had been torn clean off of her knuckles. She toyed with a small flap of skin, not noticing the pain.

Dabi stared at her face, seeing it full-on for the first time. He was sure he knew her. The incredible scarring distorted her face enough that he couldn't place how he knew her. The scars themselves were magnificent. From her ear down her jawline, the star-like scar was mottled, and the skin looked like it rippled. Parts of it were yellow with the outstanding contrast of purple. Odd he noted since the skin of the face heals the fastest. It looked so similar to his, decayed. The pure white line that crossed her eye was a brilliant shock against the tan of her skin. Her mouth was contorted and taut. Every time her mouth moved the skin pulled and warped. It was all very alluring. Alarming yes, but still alluring.

Remy stiffened as she felt his eyes on her. She refused to give in to the fears and frustrations of her 'disfigurement'. She hated the feeling of being gawked at. She preoccupied herself by glaring the piece of skin that remained on her beaten knuckles. It sat at an odd angle from the back of her hand. It seemed to wave at her, taunting her.

Remy jerked away from the cool fingertip poked into her cheek, the dirty fingernail digging into the tender flesh.

"So, could they see your mandible when this happened?" Dabi asked, running his fingers across the scar.

"Hell if I know!?" Remy growled, leaning out of range of his prying fingers.

"How did you eat?"

"I had a tube shoved down my throat. How else was I supposed to eat when I was unconscious for over a month?"

Dabi rocked back on his heels, sucking in a breath. She'd been in a fight. A nasty one. That much he could tell. But if it was a fight against a villain, wouldn't it have been on the news? He would have remembered hearing about a female Hero getting her face beaten in. So that couldn't have been it. "How the fuck did this happen?" Dabi wondered.

"Why don't you take your fire and a metal rod and figure it out for yourself?" Remy snapped. She could feel her blood pressure rise at his questions. She understood her scars were mildly disturbing and somewhat grotesque, but no one had ever dared ask her questions like these. It caused the weight in her chest to return.

Dabi tilted his head to the side, watching the blue and black-haired woman. She didn't like her scars. They bothered her, and he could tell that just from the tightness in her shoulders and the rigid way her spine had straightened. He rolled his eyes and kneeled to take her right hand, noticing for the first time the silvery wisp-like scars that ran the length of the inside on her left arm.

"Fire, huh?" He glanced up at her face. "Who'd you piss off with a fire-" The words died in his mouth as he realised. The lowlife motherfucking scumbag. He'd actually done it. Dabi's twisted face morphed into a tight-lipped snarl. Remy flinched backwards as she watched the realisation play across his face.

"Endeavor." It was a statement, not a question. Even though she knew this, Remy couldn't help but nod.

Just then he ripped the tape off her right hand and Remy stomped out the urge to punch him. Mangled knuckles be damned. She wrenched her arm from his hold to look over her hand. It wasn't nearly as bad as her left. There was less skin missing, but there was more of a raw area that covered the backs of her knuckles.

"You know if Toga were here, she'd be dying to taste it," Dabi said jokingly, watching her wipe away some of the blood.

"I wonder if I taste as good as I look?" She said, her sarcasm plain.

"Mmmph" was the only answer.

She looked at the man crouched near her knees and silently wondered at him. He was weird. Different. Like his brother, and yet more broken. But pieced together in ways that Shoto would never be. It was like the staples in his body weren't only holding his decrepit skin together.

"Why?" Dabi's voice was soft and raspy. "Why did he do the one thing he promised he'd never do?" Dabi finally looked up at her. His turquoise-blue eyes flashed with anger. His body shook with his barely contained rage.

Remy snorted at his words, "Because he's Endeavor."

"How very ladylike," Dabi quipped at her, his eyes flickering to hers. She shivered at how his deep blue eyes seemed to devour her soul in his anger.

"Fuck off."

Dabi raised an eyebrow at her and snickered at her glare.

"Did you want me to tell you?" Dabi nodded, "Then knock it off."

Dabi couldn't remember the last time someone talked to him the way she did, and if they did, they usually ended up dead. She definitely was a strange being.

Remy sighed, shifting on the uncomfortable bench. "I suppose it's my fault it happened." Dabi let out a hiss. "Oh, stop it! It happened when U.A. did the internship week about nine months ago. Endeavor asked for three first years that time round. Shoto refused him for his Hero Work-Study this past year."

Dabi couldn't stop the chuckle that erupted from his chest, "Good, the boy doesn't need that lowlife, self-centred, pompous asshat as a mentor much less a father."

Remy grinned at him before laughing, "Shoto is choosing his own way." Dabi nodded, "As I was saying, Endeavor had the interns in the training room, so I'm not so sure how it started. But I do know how it ended. Endeavor was doing a training course with the kids, and things were going well, I guess. The alarms went off, and I went in. He'd somehow lost control. The kids left and then this… this… this happened." She gestured awkwardly to her face.

"With a metal rod?" Dabi asked, voice low.

She nodded.

"Where did it come from?" Dabi's fists were shaking as he clenched them. Blue tendrils ghosted around them. Remy eyed them with a morbid fascination.

"I have an idea," Remy said honestly.

"But one you don't know if you want to share with me?" Dabi grinned as he looked at her. She was fascinating, to say the least. He shook his head to clear his thoughts before he stood motioning to her as well. He turned not waiting to see if she followed. Dabi walked to the desk and the attendant who seemed to be shaking in fear.

"First aid kit."

The attendant nodded his head wildly before darting into the back room. When he returned, he held a small box in his shaking hands and offered it to Dabi. Snatching it, he turned to the woman behind him, "Let's cover those hands up."

Remy simply held out her hands, utterly confused as to why Dabi even cared about her. She watched him with mild interest as he rifled in the box before pulling out a roll of gauze. He carefully unrolled and placed the gauze on her hand. Wrapping them just tight enough that she could still bend her fingers without any pain.

"Good?" He asked after he'd torn and tucked the makeshift bandage on her left hand.

"Yep."

"Good, now get outta here. You really shouldn't be anywhere near here anyway," Dabi stated, pushing her towards the door.

"Wait, I need to pay for the bag I ruined." Remy turned and dug out some money out of her gym bag. Handing what was probably way too much to the attendant, she then allowed Dabi to shove her outside onto the quiet street.

There were still a few people out despite the lateness of the hour, not enough to be a bother. Remy glanced around. 'Perfect,' she thought. 'Nobody will bother me when I get back to U.A.'

Dabi looked at her, then turned without bothering to say another word. He didn't even understand why he'd started talking to her in the first place.

"Remaura," she called to him as he walked away. Dabi paused and looked over his shoulder at her. "Remaura," She said again. "You asked who I am. Remaura."

With that, Remy started off in the opposite direction of him. Tugging out her black pollution mask as she walked away and gently placing over her mouth.

Dabi stared briefly at her retreating form before he kicked his feet across the sidewalk and started back to the bar. He grinned as he heard a bike startup behind him.

As much as he wished he could hate this girl for being a Hero. He couldn't help but understand her pain. The day Enji hit Fuyumi for the first time, Dabi remembered how he promised the man that if he hit another girl, he'd kill him. And by the gods, he was going to keep that promise.