Hey everyone,
I'm back with a new chapter! This one has a lot of dialogue and interaction between Dabi and Shigaraki. I've tried my best to stay true to their original characters, but keep in mind, this is still fanfiction, so it may not be as spot-on as the official work. Enjoy the read! Feel free to share your thoughts—sending virtual hugs your way!
Dabis POV
The night was thick with an unsettling calm, the kind that could only mean trouble lurking somewhere in the shadows. It had been over a week since Crimson Blade's phoney stunt on the news, slashing the two villains with the same blade she claimed was for justice. The sight had left a bitter taste in our mouths, but it had also sparked an idea. Shigaraki, the others and I hatched a plan - one that would hopefully bring this bloodthirsty hypocrite to our side.
Tracking her down had been easier than I expected. I spent the last few days watching her from the shadows, stalking her like prey. Strangely, when she wasn't wielding that stupid blood sword on television, she was different. Softer, and more... human. It was actually surprising. Still, the observations gave us the insight we needed. "We knew capturing her with Compress' quirk wouldn't work. That approach was meant for a hot-headed brat like Bakugo. With Crimson Blade, it would end in a disaster. She wasn't someone you could just drag into the villain café and have a chat with. No, our plan had to be more subtle - a ruse rather than an attack.
It was on a rather random evening that Shigaraki and I set out to look for her in Tokyo. I had memorized her work schedule and knew when and where she would be on patrol. It didn't take long to find her; she was patrolling a quiet neighbourhood in Iidabashi, probably thinking she was keeping the peace. We hid in a narrow alley, going over the plan one last time before making our move.
"We'll be polite, got it? " Shigaraki muttered as he adjusted his collar and tried to look presentable - though the effort was futile.
"Yeah, sure," I replied in a deliberately flat tone and scanned the surroundings for any unwanted surprises. I could feel the weight of the plan coming between us.
"Even if she starts to get cocky," Shigaraki shot me a sideways glance, his fingers twitching slightly - a betraying sign of his impatience.
" It's gonna' be tough, but yeah," I murmured back.
"She can't know we're the League of Villains until we've got her inside the bar," Shigaraki warned me, his voice dropping to a hushed whisper, as if the shadows themselves could betray us.
"Do you really think I'm that reckless?" I asked, raising an eyebrow, my gaze fixed on the target. She hadn't noticed us yet.
"I just don't think you're very clever, that's all," Shigaraki shot back, his tone dripping with that familiar mixture of condescension and annoyance.
"You bastard," I hissed. The flames itched at my fingertips, a dangerous temptation I had to keep under control.
"Enough. Let's get this over with," Shigaraki snarled as he shoved his hands into his pockets and led the way out of the alley.
We stepped out of the shadows, strolling into the dimly lit street toward Crimson Blade. She was sharp, I'll give her that - she spotted us before we could get too close. Her reaction was immediate, her body tensing as she turned to face us. Her skull mask obscured most of her face, but I didn't need to see her expression to know what she was thinking. Disgust practically radiated from her. Typical. We were used to that look, but coming from her, it was particularly irritating. A fake, two-faced bitch judging us? The irony was almost laughable.
"Crimson Blade," Shigaraki called, forcing a grin as he spread his arms wide in a mockery of a friendly greeting. We walked towards her, trying to appear non-threatening.
"Stay away from me," she muttered, moving her hand to her lips in a gesture of disdain.
"Huh?" Shigaraki paused, caught off guard. We both stopped in our tracks, the plan momentarily derailed.
"I told you to take a shower before, you idiot," I hissed at him, annoyed by how quickly she had dismissed us.
Shigaraki shot me a glare. There was no denying it - this was going to be more challenging than we thought.
"Sorry for the sudden appearance. We didn't mean to startle you," I said, forcing a smile that felt more like a grimace. The words tasted bitter on my tongue, but they needed to be said.
"We're, uh, fans of yours," Shigaraki added, the words practically choking him on the way out. The very concept of admiration was a horror to him, and yet here we were, playing the part.
"Fans, huh?" Crimson Blade echoed, her tone dripping with mockery. The way she looked at us, as if dissecting us with her gaze, sent a shiver down my spine. Had she already seen through our little act? "What do you want?" she continued, her voice tinged with suspicion.
"We just wanted to say hello. Your performance on TV the other night? It was brilliant!" Shigaraki's voice dripped with false enthusiasm, and his attempt at a smile made him look even more grotesque. If there was one thing Shigaraki couldn't do, it was sincerity.
"What exactly did you like about it?" she asked, her tone sharpening. There was a bite to her words that told me she was far from impressed.
"Well... the way you handled those two villains! And when you raised your sword to ki-" Shigaraki began, his voice trailing off at the word, but she interrupted him with a venomous hiss.
"Get out of my sight," she snapped, her patience obviously wearing thin. I'd seen her get angry before, talking about this very broadcast. She claimed, that she hadn't killed those villains, that the footage was cut in a way to make her look like as if she had.
Shigaraki's words fell silent, his mouth hanging open in disbelief. For once, the ever-cynical leader was at a loss for words.
Crimson Blade moved closer, her stance becoming increasingly predatory. The aura she radiated was different from the calm facade she had worn just moments before. I could feel the tension building in the air, ready to erupt.
"If you're so obsessed with murderers, why don't you idolise a loser like Stain? I didn't kill anyone that night," she growled, the weight of exhaustion and frustration in her voice audible. Those eyes - black, lifeless and completely drained - stared right through us. Despite the madness that surrounded her, there was something strangely attractive about this crazy wreck.
"Calm down, doll. He didn't mean it that way," I said, stepping forward to defuse the situation - or at least the attempt to do so.
"Don't call me 'doll', you jackass," she snapped, her eyes narrowing into dangerous slits behind the skull mask. The transformation was unsettling; she was almost unrecognizable from the person I'd been stalking for the past few days. It was as if the mask itself had transformed her into something far more terrifying.
"'Okay, okay, point taken,' I said, holding my hands up in mock surrender. "Listen, we think you're something special, and that's not something we say lightly. You're sharp - you've got us figured out; we're not fans of heroes, not in the traditional sense. But you? You're different. You're brutal, but at least you're honest about it. No pretence, no bullshit. And that's something we respect."
I watched her carefully, hoping the words would sink in, that she'd take the bait. After all, even monsters like her had their insecurities, their weaknesses. All it took was the right push in the wrong direction.
Shigaraki's grin, sharp and mischievous, cut across his face as he played his part in our little charade. "Exactly," he chimed in softly, his voice dripping with feigned sincerity. "You're authentic. That's a rare quality in this phony world."
Crimson Blade's response was a noncommittal sigh, followed by a brief "Aha". Was that it? Her lack of social finesse was almost laughable. I stepped closer, leaning in with calculated warmth.
"We can relate to you, in a way," I said, weaving my web of deceit. "You speak to us, the failures of society. It may not sound like a compliment, but it really means something to us." I hoped the honeyed words would wrap around her like a snare, convincing her of our faux admiration. And to seal the deal, fate threw us a bone.
One of Crimson Blade's colleagues strolled up, clapping with exaggerated joy, his obliviousness to our ruse almost comical. He gave her a friendly pat on the shoulder. "Looks like you've got some fans after all," he said with a grin.
We didn't know this guy - just another wheel in the machine of mediocrity masquerading as a hero. "Of course I have fans," Crimson Blade muttered, her annoyance barely concealed.
"Yeah, sure," he replied, but his voice carried an undertone that made it unclear whether he was genuinely happy for her or just unnerved. "Hey, how about inviting your favorite heroine out for a drink?"
Shigaraki and I exchanged glances, our surprise barely masked. The situation was unfolding with an ease that bordered on the absurd.
"Are you out of your mind?" Crimson Blade snapped, her irritation palpable. „Look at them—two problems with legs. And I still have ten minutes left on my shift before it's your turn," she added, her irritation practically crackling in the air.
Her harsh words had that twisted allure, like she was daring you to take the bait. It was... perversely seductive.
"Don't judge a book by its cover," the hero insisted. "These two brave souls have found the courage to speak to you. As a Pro Hero, it's your duty to connect with your community and show your appreciation to your fans. Leave the last ten minutes of your shift to me." he added, Shigaraki and I shared a look of disbelief, stunned by how smoothly things were falling into place.
"That's an excellent idea!" Shigaraki said, barely containing his excitement. "We'd love to buy you a drink."
"There's a bar over there. Let's raise a glass to your... sincerity, Crimson Blade," I added, struggling to keep a devilish grin in check. My eyes flicked to Shigaraki, who was visibly fighting to keep a straight face. I cleared my throat, fighting off the urge to burst into laughter.
Crimson Blade's gaze shifted between us, the look of disgust as piercing as ever. "Come on," the hero said with an air of naive enthusiasm, blissfully oblivious to the mess he was creating. Crimson Blade sighed tiredly, her resistance crumbling. "'Alright," she conceded in a note of disapproval.
"Wonderful... you won't regret this," I said, my tone deliberately ambiguous, a sly grin creeping onto my face as I gestured with both hands toward the bar. "This way," I added, leading Crimson Blade and Shigaraki into the dimly lit establishment.
It took us less than three minutes to reach our destination. The bar greeted us with its warm, subdued lighting, casting shadows that danced to a slow, nostalgic melody - something straight out of a seventies Mexican film. The air was thick with the scent of cigars, strong liquor, worn leather and old wood. This wasn't the kind of place I'd take a lady on a date, but then again, this wasn't a date. The bar's name, Tokyo Twilight, seemed oddly appropriate for the occasion.
It wasn't too crowded, but it wasn't empty either - just the right balance for what we had in mind. We wouldn't draw too much attention, and no one would be close enough to overhear us. Perfect.
We quickly found a round table tucked away in a corner and sat down. Despite the ease with which our plan had unfolded, a sudden wave of nerves hit me. My hands began to sweat and I discreetly wiped them on my black trousers. Glancing to my right, I noticed that Shigaraki seemed to be nervous as well. He started to scratch his neck again.
I shifted my gaze to Crimson Blade, seated directly across from me. Her eyes, as lifeless as before, locked onto mine with an unsettling emptiness. She leaned forward, elbow propped on the table, her face resting in her hand. That damn skull mask still obscured her sunken in face, giving her an even more eerie presence.
"Aren't you going to take that ugly thing off?" I asked, casually pulling a pack of cigarettes out of my coat pocket and placing it on the table.
"I prefer to remain faceless," she replied, her voice as cold and detached as her eyes. The mask wouldn't hinder her drinking; it only covered the top half of her face, leaving her mouth free.
"As you wish..." I muttered, offering her the pack of cigarettes with a lazy hand gesture. She declined with a simple wave and a short "No, thank you."
"Guess you're not as much of a 'bad girl' as they like to say on TV," I joked, slipping a cigarette between my lips. She sighed, turning her eyes away from me, and for some reason that dismissal irked me more than I cared to admit. Annoyed, I flicked my fingers, conjuring a small blue flame to light my cigarette.
"A fire Quirk..." she murmured to herself.
"Impressed?" I exhaled a puff of smoke, watching her reaction closely.
"I had already guessed," she replied, her eyes roaming from my face to my chest, then down to my arms. Her gaze lingered on the burn scars that marred most of my body - patches of skin so ravaged by my own flames that they'd turned a deep, angry mauve. The only thing keeping these patches of ruined skin attached to my body were the piercings I'd driven through the healed and charred flesh.
I couldn't help but wonder what thoughts were behind those inscrutable eyes as she stared at me. The disgust that had been there before was gone, replaced by something I couldn't quite place. And that, more than anything, irritated me. Not being able to read her - this phony little bitch - was getting under my skin.
"Figured out what you're drinking yet?" Shigaraki asked, his eyes fixed on the menu above the bar. Crimson Blade shifted her gaze from me to him, her expression as unreadable as usual."
„Mhm," we both mumbled at the same time. Our gaze met in surprise - again, in sync. She narrowed her eyes to slits just when I did.
"Stop copying me," she hissed, irritation creeping into her voice.
"I'm not copying you," I shot back, taking a drag from my cigarette. The smoke I exhaled briefly hid the frown forming on my face.
Shigaraki jumped back into our little act, his twisted grin never faltering as he smoothly picked up where we left off the narrative. "You two are more alike than you think," he muttered, his voice laced with mockery. Crimson Blade shot me a look of pure disgust.
"I doubt that," she replied quietly, leaning back in her chair as if to distance herself from the idea.
The waiter arrived, breaking the tension as he took our orders. I stuck to my usual whisky, while Shigaraki opted for a dark rum. To our surprise, Crimson Blade only asked for a Coke Zero.
As the waiter walked away, I couldn't resist needling her further. "You don't drink alcohol either?" I asked.
"Of course I drink - just not with you," she replied.
I took another drag from my cigarette, exchanging a glance with Shigaraki, who looked just as irritated as I felt. "And why not?" he demanded, his fingers tapping impatiently on the table.
"What an utterly stupid question," she mumbled, rolling her eyes as if we were wasting her time. Ah, there it was again - the infuriating, overconfident bitchiness I'd almost missed.
"It would be pretty silly of me to get drunk in a bar with two men I don't know, don't you think?" she added, sitting up straight and fixing us both with a sharp stare.
I blew out another puff of smoke, my eyes drawn to her lips as she spoke. They were heart-shaped and slightly pink, unexpectedly delicate for someone with such a sharp tongue. Almost made you forget what a pain in the ass she was. Almost.
"I wouldn't mind," I said, taking a final drag from the cigarette before snuffing it out in the ashtray. The ember faded, leaving a thin trail of smoke. "What do you think we'd do to you?" Shigaraki wondered, his voice laced with unintended smut.
He wasn't a pervert, just clueless enough to let curiosity take on a darker shade.
Our drinks arrived, a welcome distraction. I raised my glass, ready to toast, "To Crimson Bl-" but she cut me off, her tone sharp and dismissive, "Save it. Just have your drink." Her eyes, sparkling with irritation, pinned me to the spot, I set my glass down, lips pressed together in a mixture of frustration and exasperation. Shigaraki, of course, found it amusing, his dry chuckle grating on my nerves. Social graces weren't exactly his strong point either.
Crimson Blade leaned forward, her ribs pressed against the edge of the table, her fingers tracing idle patterns on the dark wood. "So, back to your question … uhm - wait, what are your names?" she asked, her voice casual yet probing. Shigaraki and I exchanged a brief look of surprise. We'd been so focused on the act, on playing our parts, that we'd completely overlooked the basics.
"Oh, how rude of us," Shigaraki said, feigning remorse, his hands lightly touching his chest in mock sincerity. "I'm Shigaraki," he introduced himself, his tone theatrical. There was a flicker of recognition in her eyes as she murmured, "Shigaraki, huh..." The name clearly rang a bell.
"Call me Dabi," I added, my voice low and raspy as I took a sip of whisky. The liquid burned its way down, a warmth that temporarily smothered the cold knot inside me.
"And about your question, Shigaraki," she murmured after a pause, her lips curling around the pink straw as she took a slow, deliberate sip. The way her mouth moved, the subtle motion of her lips, stirred something dark and twisted deep inside me—a sensation I couldn't quite name but couldn't ignore. I shoved it down, forcing myself to focus on the game we were playing, even as the image lingered, taunting me.
Crimson Blade leaned back, her voice laced with a dark humour that made my skin crawl. "You two don't exactly seem like the type who get much attention from women. A tipsy young lady like me would be easy prey for a couple of freaks like you." The perverse undertone in her words hit like a sucker punch, and Shigaraki couldn't even manage a response. Instead, he choked on his drink, the liquid spurting from his nose as he coughed uncontrollably.
I let out a low chuckle, more out of irritation than genuine amusement. "Getting pretty naughty, aren't you, Princess?" Her provocations were starting to gnaw at me.
She met my gaze with a cold, indifferent stare, that damned grin never leaving her face. "I'm just calling it as I see it," she shot back, her tone dripping with venom. "And didn't I tell you to stop with the nicknames? We're not friends, Dabi."
The nerve of this brat, pushing all the right buttons with such casual arrogance.
Shigaraki, still wiping himself with a napkin, cleared his throat, his voice dripping with barely contained frustration. "You talk like you're swimming in attention," he spat, his voice hoarse.
I felt the need to back him up, the words slipping out before I could stop them. "You're just as much of a loser as we are—maybe even more."
She giggled, the dirty smirk never leaving her lips. "If you only knew..."
Shigaraki, ever the tactician, quickly tried to bring the conversation back on track. "Let's not waste time putting each other down. As Dabi just pointed out, we have more in common than we'd like to admit," he said, his grin as ugly as ever as he took a deep, desperate gulp of his drink, swallowing both the bitter taste of the rum and the sting of Crimson Blade's even more bitter words. He'd probably vomit it all out later, but for now he was holding it together – barely.
"Not wasting time is something I can get behind," she murmured, her voice calm as she pulled back her sleeve just enough to reveal a glimmer of silver from her wristwatch. A calculated glance, then those cold eyes were back on us. "Now, why don't you cut the crap and tell me what you really want?" Crimson Blade's tone was so dispassionate, it was almost as if she'd known our game from the start.
Shigaraki cleared his throat, his lips curling into that twisted grin he often wore when things got interesting. "Ah, yes, we're all about efficiency too. Funny how we keep finding common ground, isn't it, Crimson Blade? In fact, the more you look at it, the more you'll see how much we have in common. And I'm going to be blunt here—villains like us and someone like you... we're cut from the same cloth, whether you want to admit it or not."
His hands moved wildly as he spoke, as if trying to draw her into his twisted web. Crimson Blade's eyes never left him, her expression unreadable. She just leaned back, that damn pink straw back between her lips, sucking on it in that infuriatingly provocative way. "Go on," she demanded, her voice laced with just a hint of amusement, as if she was entertained by this little dance.
Shigaraki's grin widened, sensing a crack in her armor. "Ah, so you're interested," he mused, leaning forward slightly. "Let's get to the point, then. What we told you earlier, all that admiration... let's just say it was only half the truth. A little... sugar coating, if you will."
The air around our table seemed to darken, the weight of unspoken intentions settling like a heavy fog. There was a palpable shift in the room, the atmosphere growing more sinister with each passing second, as if the very shadows were closing in around us.
Crimson Blade crossed her arms and sank deeper into her chair, her posture a mixture of relaxed bravado and alert awareness. Her eyes, however, remained locked on Shigaraki, the hint of a smirk curling at the corners of her lips. Could we really manipulate her? I doubted it. Convincing her should be more complex than simply stating our reasons.
Shigaraki leaned forward, a gleam of malicious excitement in his eyes. "We're not exactly your fans. Hell, we don't even admire you. We just think you'd fit right in with us, the league of villains - more than in this world of fake heroes. You're rough, but you're real, and that's something we can relate to.
Crimson Blade's lips twitched with a knowing smirk as she brought a finger to her mouth, a gesture both deliberate and teasing. "Ah, so you're the infamous Shigaraki," she murmured, her tone laced with amused recognition. "I had a feeling I'd heard your name before."
Shigaraki's eyes lit up, a spark of ego flashing across his face. "Really? You've heard of me? Who's been talking about me?" he asked, his voice betraying a hint of boyish pride. The way he said it, you'd think he'd just been told he was a celebrity. The image of him getting all fluttery inside over her was almost enough to make me vomit.
Crimson Blade's gaze never wavered, her voice dropping to a slow, deliberate purr. "Oh, the students at U.A. mentioned you. What you did there... it was quite... intense." She emphasized the word 'intense' with a slow stroke of the pink straw, her index finger caressing it in an unnervingly erotic way. Each stroke of her finger drove me up the wall, adding a layer of nervousness to the already charged atmosphere. The sultry undertone she used with Shigaraki irritated me so much that I had to force myself not to intervene. Instead, I crossed my arms and leaned back, mimicking her posture with a touch of passive-aggressive annoyance.
Shigaraki shot me a confused look. "U.A. School?" he echoed, confusion written all over his face.
I hadn't bothered to mention it—she was there twice a week, probably for some intern thing or other. I nodded briefly, confirming that Crimson Blade wasn't lying. Shigaraki shifted his focus back to her, curiosity etched into his face.
"So, what did those little brats say about me?" he leaned in, his voice edged with anticipation. I took a long, defiant sip of my whisky, trying to drown out the growing frustration as the space between Shigaraki and Crimson Blade seemed to shrink. The sight of them moving closer made my blood simmer for some reason.
Crimson Blade mirrored his move, leaning forward with deliberate slowness. Her ribs pressed against the edge of the table once more as she drew her index finger towards Shigaraki's face with a predatory grace. Her lips curled into a smirk as she whispered, "Well, they said you were..."
Her finger paused just inches from Shigaraki's forehead, her gaze now a mixture of mockery and dark amusement. Shigaraki's eyes widened, betraying a flicker of vulnerability.
"...a bitch," she hissed, poking him lightly on the forehead with the tip of her finger before pulling it back. Her grin twisted into something more sinister, like a cat toying with its prey.
Shigaraki's eyes flashed with shock. "W-what?!" he stammered, the disbelief in his voice barely hiding his seething fury. "Yes, that's right," she continued, her voice dropping to a quiet whisper, "they called you a 'bitch'." The words slipped from her lips, each one laced with sweet mockery.
The tension around the table was palpable, as if the very air had thickened with Shigaraki's brewing anger.
Crimson Blade's eyes gleamed with cruel satisfaction as she sneered at us. "From the start, I knew you two freaks were tied to the League of Villains. I just wanted to give you a glimmer of hope, only to crush it and watch your pathetic faces crumble," she spoke.
For a moment, the room seemed to spin as I tried to grasp who the real villain here was. This icy bitch had seen through our ruse from the start and wasted our time with her little game.
Shigaraki slumped back in his chair, his head hanging low. His shoulders tensed as Crimson Blade's words pierced through him.
"Brave of you to think I'd join a bunch of lowlifes like you, stumbling around with all the tact of a wrecking ball. You're dumber than you look. Did you seriously believe you could defeat All Might with a ragtag group of misfits you picked up from the gutter and some incomprehensible mutant?" she spat, her arrogance reaching new heights. Shigaraki took it like a beaten dog, his anger simmering beneath a facade of submission.
"And as if that wasn't enough, you're so pathetic you let your cronies attack some innocent teenagers. And those same kids turned your so-called 'squad' into a punching bag. Must have been a blast trudging home after that disaster," she scoffed, her gaze laced with contempt. With a final smirk, she pushed back her chair and stood up.
"My answer is no. I have no interest in joining your pathetic circus, Shigara-" Her patronising tone was abruptly cut off by my hiss.
"Shut the fuck up and sit down," I spat, my anger barely contained. The shock on her face was satisfying. It was clear that no one had dared to cut her off in a while.
"Or what?" she asked, her voice full of that nasty mock tone. That was the point where I could no longer restrain my irritation. I ignited a blue flame in the palm of my hand, letting it dance menacingly. "Or I'll burn this fucking place to the ground," I snarled, the threat hanging heavy in the smoky air.
Crimson Blade's gaze swept the dim, smoky bar, her eyes lingering on the wooden furnishings and shelves lined with alcohol before locking back onto Shigaraki. "You picked a wooden dump filled with booze, and brought along a pyromaniac with a fire Quirk to play daddy for me, just to make sure I stick to your script. You're not as dumb as I thought," she said, her voice as sharp as shattered glass, refusing to sit down.
"Last warning, princess. Put your ass back in that chair," I said, my irritation fanning the flame in my hand. Shigaraki, however, seemed to find some twisted amusement in the situation and chuckled softly.
"No need for that. Let her go," he commanded with a dismissive wave, his eyes flickering with a dark humor that didn't sit well with me. I extinguished the flame and watched as she turned to leave.
"Enjoy your evening," she tossed over her shoulder, her tone as cold as the air that followed her out.
I leaned heavily against the table, frustration evident in every line of my posture. "What a fucking cunt... Now what?" I demanded. "We're going to kill her, obviously. Do you seriously think I'd let someone that arrogant walk away?" Shigaraki said, his voice disturbingly calm, as if discussing the weather.
"Then why the hell did you let her go?" I snapped, the question escaping through clenched teeth.
"Too risky here," Shigaraki explained, his demeanour unshaken. "We're still in the heart of the city, and Pro Heroes are all over the place. We'll wait until things settle down and then we'll deal with her."
I couldn't say I was thrilled with the decision, but Shigaraki was right. The city's pulse was still too strong, too many eyes around, too many heroes lurking in the shadows. At least we didn't have to resort to Plan B or any of the other desperate alternatives we'd concocted. We had woven complex ruses to lure her in, but after tonight I found the idea of her lifeless far more pleasing.
The thought of reducing that arrogant bitch to ashes ignited a fire within me that I could barely contain. Every insult she'd thrown at us would be paid back tenfold, her smug face nothing but a memory in the smoke and flames.
With this burning wrath raging within us, Shigaraki and I let the night slip away, the promise of revenge hanging in the air like the acrid scent of smoke.
to be continued!
