Dabi hates sleeping on the ground. Endeavor's favorite punishment (after extra training) was to take away his bed when he messed up. Dabi didn't sleep on his bed often.

His hatred of sleeping on the ground is why he almost walked past this side alley. It was a dead end, so there was only one direction to keep an eye on. When he explored it, he found a fire escape could be reached by climbing up the dumpster at the back, so he wasn't trapped.

Most importantly, the small size of the alley meant it was mostly covered by overhanging roofs. The rain couldn't irritate his burns if it never reached him. Huddled underneath all the cardboard he could scrounge, he shivers. It's not pouring down, but slow dripping is the only sound that escapes the mist that has settled in the city this evening. He can't use his fire, since it would burn his cardboard pile and leave him exposed.

Something pokes at his back and he shifts, trying to huddle between the wall and the dumpster without actually touching the dumpster. The bin was made of metal and very cold. It was also sealed shut, the lids immovable. Not that it matters, the metal container is covered in graffiti and rust. Dabi feels a kinship with it, him with his burns and the dumpster with its rust. Both ugly and tossed aside by society.

Dabi's belly complains painfully and he stares at nothing. He hasn't eaten in several days and sleep has been hard to find. Numbly, he wonders if this is how he dies. First-born son of Endeavor, first to fail, first to be tossed aside, first to die…

There is movement at the entrance of the alley. Two people are slowly approaching.

Dabi risks a peak, readying a hand to throw blue flames. He's glad he picked this alley, there is nowhere to run if he needs to cremate some criminals.

A young girl dressed in middle school clothes happily skips in front of an older man wearing a worn business suit.

Something's wrong.

Dabi eyes the girl. Her blonde hair is up in twin buns and her shirt is smudged and dirty. The hem of her skirt is frayed and her smile is too wide to be natural. She's younger than him, but he was always shit at guessing people's age.

The man's business suit is used, but too clean for this area. His shoes are polished and his brown hair is cropped short to his head, a desperate attempt to ignore the fading hairline. A belly strains against the man's shirt and the way he is looking at the girl creeps him out. It reminds him of how Endeavor looked at Shouta when the golden child's quirk manifested.

"Here is good," chirps the girl, stopping halfway into the side alley.

Dabi holds his breath and tells himself to not get involved. He can't get involved, the weather is awful and would hamper his quirk. He doesn't know the girl and doesn't care. Nothing that is about to happen involves him. His stomach hurts because he is hungry.

"Yes," the man agreed, nasal voice impossible to ignore. "Let's get started."

Dabi screws his eyes shut. He doesn't want to hear this, but he can't leave now. Revealing himself would be almost as bad as doing nothing.

A belt is unbuckled and he hears a zipper go down.

Not my problem, not my problem.

Fabric hits the ground.

Not my problem not my problem not my proble-

SHINK

"FUCK!"

Dabi opens his eyes.

A knife is sticking out of the man's thigh. His pants are around his ankles, but his underwear remains up. The girl reaches behind her and stabs another knife into the man's hip.

"Fucking bitch!"

The man grabs at her, but she dances away, towards Dabi and farther away from the exit.

"I'm going to enjoy watching the life leave your eyes," threatens the man.

The girl tilts her head. "Funny, I was going to say the same to you."

"Wha-" The man stumbles and lands on his knees. "What did you do?"

The girl raises her gaze. "I haven't done anything."

Dabi rubs his eyes, because yes, the blood flowing out of the man's stab wounds is defying gravity. Instead of dripping down, it was floating up into the air. A small marble forms and begins to grow in size.

It reaches the size of a baseball and the man's head starts to droop.

"I can't…" The man is taking heaving breaths, hands splayed on the ground. "Can't breathe."

The blood keeps flowing out of the man, the orb smooth and shiny as it grows. The man's forehead rests against the ground, joining his hands and knees. His skin is sweaty and pale.

He collapses with a grunt and silence settles. The girl stays where she is, watching the volleyball sized ball hang in midair.

"Your control is getting better," she says.

A short figure appears from around the corner.

"The practice helps," comes the raspy reply. Chills run down Dabi's spine and fear grips his heart. The speech is broken, with odd emphasis in certain places. No normal throat could produce such a tone.

He's shorter than the girl by a couple inches. The hair sticking out of the faded yellow hoodie is dark and contrasts with the blue medical mask over his face. The jeans he wears are dirty and torn. His appearance contrasts his voice.

He waves a hand and the globe of blood splatters across the wall. He flicks and twists his fingers, the blood moving and shaping itself into a message.

MONSTER

The children stare at their handiwork in silence.

Dabi holds his breath.

A horn sounds in the distance and the spell is broken.

"Come on," the boy says, grabbing the girl's hand. "It's not wise to stick around the scene of the crime."

"But Shoakuma," the girl whines, "You didn't get me a souvenir."

The boy pauses and pulls out a glass vial with a stopper. "Right."

Blood curls up from the body and fills the vial most of the way. Shoakuma puts the stopper back in place and hands it to the girl.

That exact moment is when one of the overhanging roofs loses a tile.

It falls directly onto Dabi's head.

He sprawls forward, falling out of his hiding spot with his head in his hands. He swallows a curse and looks around.

Shoakuma has placed himself in front of the girl. Meanwhile, she's retrieved the knives she stuck the dead pervert with and is pointing one of them in his direction.

He scrambles to his feet and holds out a hand. Steam drifts off it as he heats it up, ready to flash fry the little freaks.

"I don't want any trouble," he says, his voice steady despite the dead body nearby.

He meets the boy's gaze head on. Venomous green orbs stare directly into his own frost blue ones.

"Neither do we," Shoakuma agrees, taking a step back. The girl mimics his movement.

Dabi opens his mouth, but shuts it when his stomach audibly growls. The girl snorts and taps Shoakuma on the shoulder with the butt of her knife. He looks at her and raises an eyebrow.

She nods towards him and he rolls his eyes. "You hungry, alley cat?"

Dabi shakes his head, but his stomach betrays him again.

"We're going to get some sandwiches," Shoakuma says, relaxing his stance but keeping Dabi in his line of sight. "If we get one too many and accidently leave it on the sidewalk…"

He shrugs. "Who knows what will happen to it."

"Fuck it." Dabi is very tired and hungry. "Won't be the worst decision I've ever made."

/\/\/\/\

\/\/\/\/

The walk to the vending machine is awkward. The late afternoon mist is clearing up and the streetlights start popping on. Dabi has so many questions, but the children he is following have already killed a man today. He doesn't think he will be next, but no need to tempt fate.

The silence lasts until they get to the food. While Shoakuma feeds Yen into the machine, the girl walks up to him and extends her hand.

"I'm Himiko, nice to meet you." Her yellow eyes are sharp and focused. Her pupils are catlike.

He accepts the handshake, she seems normal enough. "I'm Dabi."

"Can I try your blood?" Nevermind.

Before he can answer, Shoakuma returns with three sandwiches. He hands one to Dabi and the other to Himiko. She unwraps it and takes out the vial of blood they 'liberated' from the alleyway pervert. Dabi watches as she seasons the bread with the blood.

"Himiko's quirk means she needs more iron than normal people," Shoakuma says, catching Dabi's expression. "Can't afford supplements right now."

Dabi nods and focuses on his own food. Who is he to judge her? He's been planning Endeavor's murder since running away. He bites into the food to stop his thoughts from spiralling again.

The sandwich is crusty and soggy, just like him.

It's delicious.

In no time at all, he is licking his fingers and tossing the plastic. Himiko is taking her time and savoring every bite.

"Tastes like victory." She wiggles her eyebrows at him and he snorts.

He raises an eyebrow when he sees that Shoakuma has simply pocketed his own food.

The boy shakes his head at Dabi's unspoken question. "I won't pry, but if you want to point me towards the bastard who gave you those scars…"

"Why?" Dabi asks. "You don't even know me."

"I know what you've been through." Shoakuma pulls up the right sleeve of his hoodie. Burns and scars crisscross his skin in a macabre display. Several handprints are clearly visible. "No one deserves what happened to us."

Dabi backs up. His heart is racing and even though he is standing on the street, looking at someone else's wounds, he's back in the training room.

"It's only been three hours. You will make it to five."

"Dabi?"

"Bah, I barely felt that."

"Dabi?"

"Again!"

"Sho, something's wrong."

"You are a pathetic excuse for a Todoroki."

"Dabi, breathe."

He can't breathe. He stands up and gulps down large breathes of air. When had he sat down? Himiko and Shoakuma are nearby, close enough to touch, but not crowding him in. Their hands are up as they try to calm him down.

"I don't…" Dabi says, still breathing heavily. "He's…"

"Whoever he is, Sho can take him," Himiko says, fangs peeking out from underneath her grin.

Dabi looks at her, and then at Shoakuma. The kid shrugs and wobbles his hand in a 'maybe' gesture.

"As long as it isn't All Might."

A chuckle escapes from Dabi. It turns into a full blown belly laugh, forcing Dabi to his knees as he clutches his stomach. His mirth peters out after a minute and he kneels there, trying to gather his thoughts.

Himiko and Shoakuma don't approach him or push him. They wait for him to finish as they keep watch.

"Even if I believe you," Dabi says. "It will take more than the three of us to finish the job."

"Then we better start preparing."

/\/\/\/\

\/\/\/\/

Naomasa Tsukauchi steps out of his car and takes a sip of his coffee. Black, bitter, and lukewarm. Just as he likes it.

To his right, yellow police tape blocks access to an alleyway. An officer holds up the barricade while the paramedics wheel out a body covered in a white sheet.

Tsukauchi pauses by the ambulance doors as the gurney is loaded. "Morning."

"Morning Detective," says one of the paramedics. Her brown hair is tied back in a bun, and her yellow skin clashes with the paramedic garb.. Her name tag reads 'Yuki'.

Tsukauchi raises an eyebrow as they haul the gurney up. "How did you know?"

Yuki grins, showing off shiny, pointed teeth. "Word gets around quick when a big shot detective from Tokyo gets transferred to Musufuta."

Tsukuachi's reply is cut off by a man's voice from inside the vehicle. "Is that the transfer?"

The speaker emerges and hops down to the ground. His most prominent trait was the pale blue skin peaking out from his clothes. He closes the doors and holds out a hand. "I'm Suuna, that's Yuki. Nice to meet you."

"Detective Tsukauchi," Naomasa replies, shaking the offered hand. "The chief was welcoming me to the station when the call came in. Anything I should know?"

Suuna frowns. "The Pro Hero who found the body is an acquired taste."

Yuki rolls her eyes. "You just don't like him because he didn't laugh at your jokes."

"Those jokes are amazing, handcrafted and tested over many years of medical school," Suuna shoots back. "In all seriousness, Eraserhead isn't hard to deal with. Take him seriously and don't trip over him."

"Trip?"

Suuna and Yuki share a grin and walk off. The ambulance starts up and drives away, leaving Naomasa with more questions than answers. He shakes his head and walks over to the tape.

The officer is smoking a cigarette and openly watching him. He nods at Tsukauchi and raises the tape but makes no attempt to engage in conversation. Naomasa walks further into the alleyway, reflecting on circumstances that saw him arriving in Musufuta from Tokyo.

Of course, it always came back to his quirk. The ability to know when someone is lying is an incredible skill to have as a detective. The downside, of course, is that Naomasa Tsukauchi, the human lie detector, cannot physically lie. Of course, he could just ignore the question, but that is technically an answer in a sense. Sometimes he could ignore the question, sometimes he couldn't.

Either way, his quirk allowed him to advance quickly and solve cases at an impressive rate. Three years into his career, his case completion rate was double any other detective in Tokyo. His police chief had pulled him into a meeting a couple days ago. The man wanted to give him some congratulations on his work rate, and a promotion.

To Musufuta, which was three hours away from Tokyo. One way.

Tsukuachi shook his head as he turned into the side alley. He wasn't stupid, but there wasn't anything he could do about it.

If his bosses wanted him out of Tokyo, then that was that.

A dark clad figure stands in the middle of the side alley. Tsukauchi would have almost missed him, if it wasn't for the multilayered gray scarf sitting on the man's shoulder. Dark eyes look out from underneath long, stringy hair. Tsukuachi understands what Suuna was talking about now. He had almost mistaken him for a bum.

"Detective." The man nods.

"Eraserhead?" He asks.

Another nod and the man returns his gaze to the side alley wall. Tsukauchi steps next to him and follows his gaze. There is a chalk outline where the body was found. On the wall above that is a message.

MONSTER

Tsukauchi blinks and refocuses on Eraserhead. "Zeni for your thoughts, Eraserhead?"

The hero takes a sip from a coffee travel mug. "The victim was killed sometime last night. The body had been cold long enough for rigor mortis to set in, but not long enough for the weather to wash away the crime scene."

Tsukauchi nods, the rain from yesterday had settled into a fog by this morning.

"It's also not the perpetrators' first kill." The pro continues. "The body only had two stab wounds, both on the same side in areas with major arteries. I didn't see any defensive wounds on the man's hands or arms."

Tsukauchi sipped the last of his own coffee while he unpacked that sentence. "Perpetrators?"

"Working theory. Either it is one fast and skilled individual, or multiple people working together. They targeted this man and lured him to this secondary location."

Eraserhead points at the wall. "Combined with the message, it makes logical sense that this isn't the perpetrator's first kill."

"You only leave a message when you want to be heard," Naomasa muses. "Any information on the identity of the body?"

The hero goes for another sip, but grimaces when he realizes his cup is empty. "No wallet, no socks, no shoes, no belt, no clue."

"Let's hope the coroner matches a dental record then." Tsukuachi stares at the wall, the lines of the kanji straight and clean except at the bottom, where the fluid that made up the word succumbed to the eventuality of gravity.

He pulls out the napkin he got with his coffee and wipes up one of the trails. Bringing it to his nose, he gives it a sniff.

Blood.

He squints at the message, something catching his attention. "Does the word seem strange?"

Eraserhead points at the three kanji in order. "Two Faced. Evil Eyes. Thief."

"A liar with bad intentions comes to steal something from you," Tsukauchi summarizes. "A message?"

"A warning."

Tsukuachi looks at his empty coffee cup and then at Eraserhead staring almost longingly at his own cup. "There is a coffee shop right down the road. Want anything?"

"I'll come with you. My patrol ended an hour ago."

"Right, let me see if the boys back at the station want anything."

/\/\/\/\

\/\/\/\/

Tsukauchi buckles himself in and turns to his passenger. "Ready?"

Eraserhead turns to look at him. Eight coffee cups are balanced between two carriers and a brown bag with sugar and sweetener sits at the hero's feet. "Yes."

Tsukauchi pulls away from the sidewalk and merges into traffic. Eraserhead tightens his grip when the detective fails to use his turn signals.

"You've been working in this area for a few years."

Eraserhead nods.

"I was just transferred here. Is this kind of case normal for Musufuta?"

"Kind of."

Tsukauchi doesn't sigh. Instead, he passes a slower driver and then brakes at a red light. Eraser keeps a good grip on the coffee.

He had been warned that the underground hero is a man of few words. Time to try the straightforward approach.

"What's your current theory?"

Eraserhead keeps his gaze forward. "Gang hit."

Tsukauchi can hear the reluctance. "But…"

"The victim was dressed like a salaryman. Both stab wounds were below the belt and his pants were undone. Without the message, it could have easily been a prostitute who ran into a troublesome client."

"In a side alley?"

"I've seen it before."

"You think it's a working girl?" Tsukauchi asks. He smacks the horn as traffic slows them down.

"No." Eraser looks longingly at the coffee in his hands. "They would have pocketed the cash and left everything else behind."

Tsukauchi beeps the horn again. "Maybe he ran into something he shouldn't have seen. Someone could be covering their track."

Eraser shakes his head. "Then why leave the message or the body? That alleyway is pretty well hidden and I only check it every few days."

The police precinct comes into view and his passenger lets out a sigh of relief. "I'll see if there are any unclaimed bodies with similar wounds."

Eraserhead nods and digs out a slip of paper. "I will ask some questions on my end. Let me know when the autopsy report comes in."

Tsukauchi accepts the phone number and gets out of the car. "Will do…"

Turning around, he sees two coffee carriers on top of his vehicle and no hero. He shakes his head and grabs the coffee.