A/N: This is going to deal with a lot of canon events, and especially Dabi's complicated relationship with Todoroki Rei. Be warned that this won't be nearly as lighthearted as the other two chapters have been.

"Shit!" Tomura hissed as he stumbled against the wall with a bang, reaching out to steady himself with a fist.

"Quiet, you idiot," Dabi groused as he struggled to staunch the blood from his stitching. "Don't go knocking the whole house down."

"Will you relax? Inko knows to expect us back."

Dabi paused in folding over the handkerchief, sending him an incredulous look. "Inko, huh?"

"Just because you don't trust her doesn't mean I have to follow." Tomura cast him a withering glare in return. "I'm the leader, remember?"

"Yeah," the black-haired man rolled his eyes. "Line leader, maybe."

Just as the younger man prepared to retort, a light flickered on from the kitchen and a head peeked around the corner of the doorway.

A relieved expression overshadowed the worry on Inko's face, and as she stepped into the dark hallway she gasped sharply at the damage.

"Tomura," she breathed in dismay. "What happened? Who did this to you?"

"Don't worry about it," Tomura grunted as she reached for his hurt arm. "I've had worse."

"Oh now, you shush," she scolded with a half-hearted glare. "You come back to the house at…" she paused to squint at the clock in the kitchen, "...two-forty in the morning, bleeding and dizzy, and you expect me not to worry about you?"

Dabi chuckled, catching their attention. "Remember when you got shot twenty times in the legs?"

"Not helping," the silvery-haired man hissed as Inko's face blanched.

"Ignoring that concerning information, c'mon, please, sit in the kitchen." She reached for his other side, pulling his uninjured arm over her shoulder so he could lean against her. "I made some tea earlier, but it may have gotten a bit too cold…"

Dabi quietly followed them as they shambled into the kitchen and towards the dining table. Sitting down, he watched as Tomura collapsed into another, groaning loudly as his wounds bumped the chair.

"Sorry, sorry," she hurriedly apologized. "Tea is on the table - where are you hurt?"

"Arm," Tomura answered tiredly. "... and thigh."

Dabi remained silent.

"Dabi?" She tried hesitantly.

His eyes flickered to hers, before he looked away.

"He's too stubborn to say it." Tomura huffed. "He got hit in the ribs."

"It wasn't that bad."

"Your face is bleeding!" Both Tomura and Inko chorused.

Both of them glanced at each other in mild surprise before Inko added, "At least let me clean up your stitches - that can't be good."

"I don't need your help." He retorted. "Just get me another cloth and I'll get out of your way."

"You idiot, don't talk to Sensei's wife that way!" Tomura half-rose from the chair in a burst of anger but faltered on his shaky leg, flopping back down with another grunt.

"I'm… just trying to help you, Dabi." Inko quietly added, wringing her hands together anxiously. "I don't want to see you hurt."

"The last thing I need is anyone's pity."

"I'm not pitying you." She shook her head, wiping her tears with a huff. "To pity you would mean I see you as weak. I'll be blunt: I don't. I know you're capable of helping yourself. But you're in my house, hurt badly, and I would be a horrible person if I didn't at least try. I just want to help… please, let me help."

Sniffling quietly, she straightened up and announced, "I'll go get the first aid. Help yourselves to whatever's on the table. If your tea is cold… the kettle is still on the stove - you may get some more."

With that, she left almost as quickly as she appeared, and the two men were left in silence.

Tomura glared at him. "What's your deal all of a sudden? It's like every time you come over here you have a grudge against her."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Dabi took a sip of his tea and paused in thought. It was lukewarm, just the temperature he wanted.

"Take it easy on her, alright? She's…" the younger of them paused. "... got a gentle heart. It's annoying."

"Since when do you make nice with civilians?" The fire user questioned with a raise of his brow. "Last I checked, you didn't care. You've gotten soft, Shigaraki."

"She's the closest thing I've had to a mother since…" Tomura trailed off, a contemplative flicker in his eyes. Shaking his head, he spoke bitterly. "I killed my mother. She was… she was weak. And foolish. But… I still remember how kindly she spoke to me."

"So?"

"Inko… she reminds me of my mother." He leaned forward, carefully resting his elbows on the table. "She speaks to me like she did. And if Sensei likes her enough to spare her…" ducking his head, he grumbled, "...and that brat too, I guess."

There was a lull in conversation as he gingerly reached for the teacup and raised it, shaking, to his lips.

Memories came to the older man's mind, flashes of a kind face and matching snowy hair. A quiet, trembling voice made him grit his teeth and clench his fingers around the cup.

"There are so many paths available. Countless options for you." Her voice, attempting to be encouraging, only sounded so resigned that night - it had made his blood boil then, and even now he felt a bubble of indignation. "Try looking beyond your father! … if you do that, I'm sure you'll find the man you want to become…"

What did she know of his struggle? What did she hope to gain, talking to him that way?

"I want to help," he could envision her crying even now, reaching out through the dark. "Please, let me help…"

Maybe that was why he was wary of Midoriya Inko, even now. That pitiable woman, so meek and weak-willed, so susceptible to the whims of those hoping to use her maliciously… how dare she speak as if she knew him? She knew nothing of his struggles. She knew nothing.

Yet even now, there was a seed, a spark, deep in his heart that cried for another's touch. Though he fought heatedly to keep it buried, even now, those feelings had resurfaced long enough for a lump of emotion to form in his throat.

I want Mom, his child self might have sobbed. This hurts. I want my mom.

"I just want to help," her voice rang through his mind like his mother's. "Please, let me help!"

Before he realized it, a soft hand was laid across his arm, bringing him out of his thoughts.

Looking up sharply, he was surprised to see her so near.

"Is the tea to your liking?" Her voice was a murmur.

"I just want to help…"

Silently, he nodded.

"That's good. I was worried it would be the wrong temperature." She heaved a sigh of relief, tension bleeding from her shoulders. She raised the cloth in her hand. "May I?"

He eyed her for several moments before letting out a breath through his nose and closing his eyes.

Inko lingered hesitantly for a second, before she gingerly reached for his hand. To her surprise, she was able to pry his fingers away from the bloody mess and as she removed the handkerchief her breath caught painfully in her throat.

"Oh," she breathed. "Oh, no. Oh dear."

Why do you pity me?

I don't need you. I don't need anyone.

So why, then…

As a gentle cold pressed against his throbbing cheek, he kept his eyes closed. He refused to see the painfully worried expression he was so sure she was making.

Why then, do you still treat me so gently?

Why do you still treat me as if you can save me?