Dabi
(Mentions of abuse, violence, blood and imprecations)
– It's you who must beat me! – I collapsed to the ground remembering his damn voice. I started to hate myself for feeling weak and fragile. Thousands of targeted blows and burns around my body just burned once more. My chest ached with the sharpness of a drill burrowing in and my breathing was unsteady. I was losing consciousness.
– That fucking nightmare again! – I squeezed my eyes tight, sitting on the edge of the bed. My body was drenched in sweat and my breathing was heavy. I brought my hand to my throat like that time, and felt like the burn covered part of my chest to the corners of my mouth. Thinking about my current appearance, I did nothing but finish the job.
As the memories of the last time I saw him whipped through me, the blue flames kept increasing. And for a short time, the image of a boy with two–colored hair slipped into the dark room where he was. His small hands held my face while helplessly I only felt my tears fall, to then be replaced by an exponential resentment.
I took my jacket and decided to go for a walk. There was a hellish darkness and despite being in the wee hours of the morning, there were more passersby than I imagined.
On the way, I began to have visions that I never thought would torture me again. My body felt heavy and I could barely move. How is it possible that after so long I was at his mercy?
Memories of a white–haired woman in a corner, cornered after being beaten by a stout man covered in incandescent flames, came in waves that had me as his next target.
I felt the same nervous anxiety every time the simple silhouette on fire in front of me forced me to live up to expectations that even he couldn't reach. It would stop appearing as a specter only when it was no more than that, an illusion of a disembodied memory.
I stopped on the roof of one of the buildings closest to the main square. There was a replay of the newscast, accompanied by several brightly colored screens announcing bullshit promoted by the damned heroes.
When the urge to light a few garbage cans behind the building tempted me to cause an uproar, a package with the inscription "Teiko no Market" revived memories that I thought I had buried.
– Apparently the franchise is still in force – taking the plastic bag to turn it to ashes, seconds later. Less than ten years had passed that felt like an eternity, yet the images in my head felt like they belonged to someone else.
– I cannot do it! – I had trouble breathing after the strong blow to the stomach
– You're just a weakling! – Kicking me again, this time he got me to spit blood – Get up and defend yourself! – My vision was blurry. I trembled at the pain in my muscles, and my skin burned from the constant use of my unstable quirk. The last thing I remember was my futile attempt to get to my feet at the time I lost consciousness, only to wake up in the training hall bruised, helpless and miserable.
My mother's cold composition and his incandescent quirk were the perfect match for a promising but unstable quirk. My flames burned brighter than his, but my ice–compatible body did nothing but consume itself with each use.
I wasn't allowed to get close to my siblings, so they were just two people who looked at me with anguish, or rather, fear from a distance, afraid of running the same fate as me. I rarely saw my mother, and only my grandmother would come up to me to feed me. It was as if my greatest achievement was staying alive over the summer break, longing for classes to start so I could give rest to my worn skin, numb muscles, and increasingly decaying spirit. But it was nothing more than a fleeting longing.
One stormy day, when my Fuyumi and Natsuo were not there, our grandmother asked me to go and bring some purchases for dinner. I covered as much of my body as I could; explaining the origin of my bandages would be something unusual for those who admired the now hero number two. However, I couldn't quite hide the bruises on my face, so my eyes were constantly fixed on the ground. Despite wanting to go unnoticed, it was inevitable not to attract the attention of those who saw this fearful child stay on the sidelines, maintaining as little contact as possible.
It was uncomfortable to go out and feel the curious gaze of some on me, but it was in these moments where I felt free. For those few times when I was finally able to get out, I didn't feel the pressure to be ideal or achieve goals that, although I wanted to meet them, my body refused to cooperate. At the bus stop, announcing my few minutes of freedom before arriving at my destination, I had put up a large shiny poster of the number one hero, All Might. Faced with the gray weather, his yellow hair filled the gloomy season with life. It was as if his energy shot through the screen and filled the space with warmth. Seeing him gave me peace and hope, as if anything was possible. Seeing him made me want to be like him; be a hero who will save others; who will save me.
The splash of two people approaching the station brought me to the stark reality that my aspirations would be impossible as long as I didn't have mastery of my quirk.
Once I arrived, the entrance was open, and there was a slight commotion. I saw the silhouette of my mother and I wanted to get closer as soon as I saw her, she had been absent and only when she was close, I felt safe. I left the bags at the entrance, and wanted to step into the hall only for my body to freeze when I saw it, right behind her, creating an impenetrable barrier in which I would never dare to belong.
And then a shrill whimper echoed through the room. I just sneaked into one of the rooms, sheltered behind a panel, I was afraid of approaching or being seen, but wanted to know what it was about. Once a gap between him and my mother became possible, I could see that she was insistently rocking a lump that was the source of the squeak. She had a baby ... that was the cause of her absence; she was pregnant.
Amid the shock, I couldn't quite understand how it was possible that, despite the constant mistreatment, I was able to continue giving offspring to the abusive person who kept me in that state. However, taking a closer look at her face, far from being happy, it seemed just as miserable as mine. She always took a demure and withdrawn posture. Her presence was seldom perceived in the house and when she tried to protect me, she was only getting hurt by the abusive man at her side, a fact that forced me to keep her away, so as not to hurt her.
And then it was like, at just eight years old, I had realized the stark truth; we were nothing more than failed experiments. As the previous three didn't reach his ideals, he decided to try a fourth time. My siblings and I were nothing more than mistakes in their sick and obsessive aspirations to reach first place. Reflexively, I brought my hand to my mouth to hold back the sobs that wanted to escape from my throat. The impotence of not knowing how to defend myself broke me. I felt condemned to a duty that I didn't want in the first place and would never be able to achieve.
The years following his arrival, the fourth child was cared for and supervised with special care, but like me, he was kept apart from the others, and perhaps, motivated by that same isolation, was the one that led him to run into my room. I found myself holding my knees, in the far corner of the doorway, tightening my bleeding bandages, wanting to pass out so that I could be anesthetized. His screams echoed in my head to the beat of the constant blows he received. I was terrified, shaking uncontrollably when his unexpected presence spasmed me.
His wide eyes were looking at me curiously and I was just wondering what would happen if they found us both there. It was a matter of time before they noticed his absence. I wanted to move away from him, but he brought his little hand to my cheek. It had been so long since I had felt any kind of affection that his tiny palm made me shudder at the warmth of his touch.
Taking him closer, I could appreciate his peculiar appearance. He had both hair and eyes of different colors. His right side was the same as our mother's, with gray eyes and platinum hair, on the other hand, his left side was more similar to his, with blue eyes and red hair, like mine. He was looking at me peacefully, not seeming to be frightened by the burns or bruises that covered me.
Seeing it caused me deep anguish. He wanted to be with others, but he couldn't. By being apart from them, he protected them. I began to cry without being able to stop, and it was his other hand that swept away the tears that did not stop coming out. However, he knew that this brief moment would be fleeting. I got up to take him to the entrance, he barely reached my waist. It would be at least three years old. I heard our grandmother call him, and I said goodbye to him, who remained standing there even though I closed the panel behind me. The old woman took him in her arms and I was tempted to look at him once more. He had his eyes in my direction and he didn't look away until he was out of sight. For the few minutes he was there, my injuries were non–existent and instead, it was just him and me. I couldn't have imagined that his presence would be the trigger for my detonating state.
It was a night in which the fever due to the excess of the use of my quirk led me to self–medicate, as was customary, I listened to the dismal talk that confirmed how disposable we were the first timers; how useless I was to their plans.
– He is the one who will surpass All Might!
– He's just a boy – my mother's voice protested, nervous
– He will do what the other three couldn't! His quirks of ice and fire are the perfect combination to counteract each other's limitations.
– He's barely five years old!
– Exactly, he's already five years old! And I'm the one who makes the decisions about him – and the sound of a thump ended the conversation. A few moments later her sobs were all I could hear.
With difficulty I could stand. The fever had reached its limit, but my bad state was to confirm what I had always known; I would never be a hero who lived up to his expectations; it had been replaced without qualms, like a useless object with its usefulness fulfilled.
I ran from there as fast as I could, aimlessly, and with hallucinations being my guide. A bright light attracted me and, I approached it as quickly as my weakened legs allowed me. With a different outfit, but the same smile, even though that poster, All Might continued to convey that air of hope that I so desired. Like a magnet, my hands rested on the advertising, but my eyes were heavy, and the last thing I saw was how that light that illuminated the place, was extinguished.
When I woke up, I found myself in bed in a monochrome apartment. I had new bandages and my fever was gone. My mind wandered to the events that had brought me to this place.
– You finally woke up. – He was a strange guy, with a gloomy appearance, but a gentle voice. Slim, with fair skin, yellow hair and eyes. He was smoking a cigarette when he walked in – If it had taken him a little longer to find you, you probably wouldn't be awake. – He sat in a chair next to the bed, placing a tray with oatmeal and chopped apples. – I brought you this, you must be hungry. – I stayed at the far end of the bed. – You must be scared, I'm Jin Bubaigawara, although you can call me Twice – He extended a hand, but I didn't dare to approach. – Don't worry, I'm not going to hurt you. I was just waiting for you to wake up to take you home, if you have one, of course – when I thought about going back, my fists clenched. The memories of why I fled began to bombard me, their screams echoed in my head, and I just covered my ears with my hands – Does it happen to you too?! – And without understanding his question, someone like him entered the door
– He finally woke up!
– But he didn't say anything – I didn't understand what was happening
– Oh, by the way, don't worry. He is me and I am him. My quirk is to multiply myself as many times as I want. He did the shopping while I looked after you. – The other guy went to a counter, where he placed the bags of food.
– Do you know who is him?
– No. He didn't want to talk.
– You must have scared him – approaching me – What's your name? – And before being able to answer, a loud scandal was heard from outside. It was then that I realized that we were close to the city center.
– And now that? – They both went to the window – He's one of those stupid heroes again. I think it's number two now. – I thought my chest would burst at the thought that he was so close, but this time it wasn't fear, it was anger and contempt. With contracted muscles I approached one of the windows and a crowd of people surrounded it. He kept that indifferent gesture while being applauded. My throat felt dry and my anger was only increasing. Didn't him even care I ran away? Didn't him notice my absence? My body shook abruptly and my flames covered me, but this time my skin didn't hurt; no longer.
– What happen, kid? – I turned around and contemplated them rigorously before continuing.
– Does your quirk only make copies of you? – They both looked at each other, until one of them answered
– I can copy others, although those copies are less resistant.
– That'll be enough. – Going back to bed
– Apparently heroes aren't your liking
– Not at all. – taking a chair in which to sit, each one close to me – Those of us who don't fit in with their ideals are renegades – or obsolete. – I need your help ... to kill one of them. – They both looked at each other confused
– Wait, what do you mean?
– I want to punish of Endeavor – Their eyes widened and before he could ask me another question, I told them about my unfortunate bond with him and without further details, they agreed. After all, there is no worse villain who pretends to be a hero.
That afternoon I returned. He and my grandmother were barely there. My siblings and my mother were absent, they should have ignored my absence too, but I no longer cared.
– Time for training. – with his typical raspy voice and frown – If you won't be my successor, at least you will be one that matters. – as I thought, he didn't even notice my absence. – I followed his steps towards the room enabled for combat. Once there, I didn't hold back, I released tireless flames that covered almost the entire free area.
He tackled me into the ground until I was knocked out with a thud. He apparently wasn't planning on holding back, either. I was throwing flames of fire at him again, more and more precise that he dodged with agility. I could barely get close to him without getting knocked out, but I didn't mean to stop.
I had been memorizing his movements for at least eight years now to know what his fighting techniques consisted of. He would always punch out the opponent to knock him unconscious. Yet I no longer feared him, I no longer had anything to lose; I never had. I managed to dodge it with difficulty, only to lash out from behind with the most incandescent of my flames. He struggled to his feet, and his countenance even seemed amused from the sudden blow, only to find myself on the ground out of breath once more.
– You'll have to do better than that to bring me down – looking at me from above, while my stomach barely resisted. It was only a matter of time to get him closer to where I wanted.
Once on my feet, I slid under him, pushing him back. I stood, watching the distance from him to the rear. Just a little more.
I fired several flares until I got closer to him. He was clear that they wouldn't do anything to him, but he placed it just where I wanted. However, he grabbed me by the neck and oxygen was running low. As much as I tried to free myself from his grip, he just squeezed harder, so pretending to give in, I dropped my arms to the side so that, with the little energy remaining once his arms loosened their grip, he lashed out with a head butt that did him hit the wall. It was when, as he caught his breath, how the flames increased not only in expansion, but also in temperature. They turned an intense blue color. As I already knew, he tolerated these high temperatures, he was even capable of making these flames, although with greater effort. I suppose, had it not been for my cold composition, I would have been a lot better than him.
– As always, you failed – it was the first time in years of training that I saw him gasp. – It wasn't even worth increasing the temperature of your flames. – He held me to the ground with greater force than before, despite being on me, I just fixed my gaze behind him. It was almost complete. Just a little more.
– You're wrong, I wasn't aiming at you – and I wrapped my body in the most intense flame I've ever made.
– Touya, stop! – but I would no longer obey his orders. The waterproof layer built especially for the high temperatures had started to sag, and right at the rear, was the thinnest part. – Stop!
– No! – and the blue was getting more intense, so much so that he couldn't get close to me. Never more. I controlled my breathing and was determined to consume myself there if necessary. My grandmother's voice was heard in the distance and a roar gave way to a column of smoke that began to rise. My body was shaking and my heart pressure was rumbling in my chest and eardrums, yet there was no longer a countdown. I wasn't going to stop.
My totally blue body began to consume the foundations that little by little began to give way to the fire. I heard him name me from a distance, but his voice no longer reached me.
The last time I, or at least my copy, saw his eyes, they reflected despair; an intense frustration that I longed to see once more, tirelessly, until the day he died.
Oxygen was running low, and I no longer had the strength to stand up. When I opened my eyes, I was a short distance from that fire and it is that shortly after the rumbling of the debris around me began to stun me, I knew I had to go, but I had no strength, I was on the verge of a heart attack, my body wouldn't take the heat anymore, but Twice did just as I asked.
He created a copy of me, and it was hidden until the right moment. As soon as the chaos began to reign, it came close enough to replace me, or at least that was what it intended, because my body couldn't stay upright, it was then that once I was outside the burning house supported by Twice or one of his copies, that through his puppet I could see him rush towards me, like the hero who rescues a victim without success, because the debris had crushed the copy, cutting off the vision I had through it.
– He's gone – were Twice's words before I fainted.
…
I didn't want to be a burden to Twice, once I recovered, I walked away from him. Not without first changing my appearance. My hands and feet, covered in staples like scars and the permanent memory of my last meeting with him, did nothing but motivate me to continue.
Despite the pain, I must admit that it was cathartic to keep burning the skin on my legs, arms, back, neck and face. Permanent reminder that the past doesn't disappear. However, due to decaying scarring, I was forced to embed hooks that would fix burned to healthy skin all over my body. Little by little I got used to this appearance more and more, but there were two things that did nothing but remind me of him, so I burned my eyes to the tear, causing me an unbearable burning, but it didn't matter; I had already cried enough to worry about it. My hair from a bright red color turned to a deep black.
Once the metamorphosis was complete, he wasn't even the shadow of that weakling whose pathetic dream of being a hero expired before it was even desired.
Living a life in the deepest corners of Japan, away from the bright lights of shop windows on the main avenues of the city, in the burrows where renegades gloated over the hypocritical society of heroes, I found myself engulfed in that world where no longer I had to restrain myself and I could do what I liked, getting used to my now blue flames, as long as I went unnoticed by the defenders of order. With no name to refer to, I only opted for Dabi; a non–existent entity without a trace, ideal to do and undo as I please.
The years passed and between serving different yakuzas and all kinds of anti-social, I had denied my wishes and desires, limiting myself to living day by day, until Stain's ideologies came to me and I understood then that this series was my mission, to eradicate those false heroes; eradicate Endeavor.
This is how, after joining the LOV under the mask of one of them, I discovered that there was Twice, who was considerably more unstable and who, not even remotely, would have the slightest idea that I was that child he helped to die.
But the longed–for rise of hero number two to first place only rekindled the hasty reason for my demise; finish him off. While the LOV would be nothing more than a piece for my personal interests to eliminate one by one the hypocrites who seek fame after performing heroic acts, finishing him off would be the perfect sign that anyone who uses false heroism to claim his position, will only fall. I would already have the opportunity to kill him with the same quirk that he considered useless.
Wandering and, without realizing it, I was a short distance from her. As was customary, I climbed to the nearest tree. She slept peacefully, ignorant of the outside world and oblivious to the dilemmas she was no longer dealing with, sedated to be in constant drowsiness, controlled, "sane," in this rotten society that accepts no mistakes, and has only two ways of dealing with them: cover them or remove them.
Apparently, we are both hopelessly condemned to remain bypassed so as not to interfere with the narcissistic interests of this rotten society. Although you don't need to worry, I would help purge it, one hero at a time.
Starting with one of the most remarkable: Hawks.
This chapter almost made me cry while writing it and is one of my favorites. I hope you liked it.
Fact # 35
I don't read the manga and it's ironic how similar what I wrote turned out with the cannon story…
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