"What the hell,"
The uncanny valley shouldn't exist in a world filled with people that go from 'plain' to 'Gang Orca' in terms of looks (not that he is prejudiced or anything), yet, Dabi can't help but feel unnerved at the kid's whole existence, cause, being honest, "What the fuck?" Ah, he said it out loud.
"What the fuck!?" The round cheeks and overall facial structure, those somewhat slanted, brownish grey eyes and the stupidly long eyelashes he no longer possesses under them; if it weren't for the haircut and colour of his unruly mane, the kid would be a remarkable copy-and-paste of Dabi in his early adolescence. "You better answer now: who the hell are you!?" His grip on the boy's yellow jumper started to get a bit heated.
"I-I-"
Police sirens ring powerfully: they are close to their location. They've probably already alerted about the fire blasts and anguished screams. The kid's whole body stiffens, and his fist holds onto Dabi's coat despite the very same young man threatening him not even a minute ago after absolutely decimating two other guys.
So very identical to his young self. So very pathetic.
His scowl deepens.
It takes a while to get to "Dabi's" flat: a raggedy old place whose only advantage is that it has running water and an illegal connection to the public lighting system that, out of some god's will, has yet to be discovered by authorities. And a couch, a nice one, he guesses, if by nice you mean flat as shit and uncomfortable to sit on, but well, it came free with the apartment so he shouldn't really complain about it.
The kid stands awkwardly in the middle of the room. "Sit," The young man orders, taking out a cig from the pack sitting on the old coffee table in the middle of the room.
Nat does as ordered and drops on the couch, but his butt is surprised by the hardness of the old furniture: "Owie,"
Dabi snorts: "C'mon, chibi, it's time for retribution,"
The blond pouts at him, and the dark-haired man has no problem reading the mental gymnastics on the kid's brain through his eyes: "I don't get it," The child simply replies, crossing his arms.
A sly smile creeps its way onto the older teen's lips, "I saved you two times, kid. How are you gonna pay me back?" He extends his hand, palm up as if asking for the blond to hand over his lunch money.
Something lights up in the kid's expression, as a sort of 'eureka', and quickly discards his red glove from his right hand, before the villain manages to realize what his goal is, the boy's hand is already holding onto the older's burnt fingers, palm and wrist; his whole self engulfed in bright diamond-like hues. For a moment, everything is beautiful.
His entire skin itches in a strangely pleasurable way. The burnt patches he used to call his epidermis crunch as they fall from his arms and onto the floor like the discarded shedding of a reptile, his staples tingling as each fell on the pavement. The kid looks with visible disgust at the fallen pieces and rubs his hands against the cloth of his pants in a hurry, making both fake and real gagging sounds. Dabi runs towards the bathroom.
He touches his face swiftly and is almost scared that such action would dispel the illusion, no, the image he sees in the reflection on the broken mirror. His hair is still dyed charcoal black, his eyes still lack those long eyelashes, and he is just as starving as he was when he woke up this morning, but everything else...
His skin feels ticklish. His brain feels fuzzy. The back of his neck burns scaldingly.
Dabi grins maniacally:
"You little shit,"
Jiro is panicking.
"He should be here already; it's been two hours!"
"Calms down. He is a teen: Nat must be playing with some friends," Ichiro tries to get his brother to chill, but it seems he said the wrong thing because the younger grabs his shoulders harshly and shakes him as if he were a soda can.
"WHAT FRIENDS!? HE'S BEEN HERE FOR LIKE A WEEK!"
Ichiro rips his younger brother's hands off him with practised ease: "You know, those vigilant kids he talks to sometimes. The ones that are teaching him Japanese,"
"They are too old to hang out with an elementary schooler, and you know it!" The younger Hotta begins to aggressively clean the shop's windows in desperation.
The oldest brother sweatdrops: "Jiro, when did you become a mother-hen?" as the 'we don't even know how old he actually is' was left unsaid.
A raspy voice sounds behind them: "Sup,"
When they turn towards the owner of the voice, the first thing they see is their kid shadowed by an unfamiliar figure.
"NEI-KUN!" Jiro immediately jumps towards their young 'unofficial' ward, but it's interrupted by the foulest stench of burnt meat. He turns in the direction of the stink, but his sight meets with a contrary image; the man (younger than them, older than the child accompanying them) has wild black hair and turquoise eyes along with a handsome face, if it weren't for his overall dishevelled appearance (and the way he smells) Jiro would assume the guy has plenty of girls following him.
"Nei, who is this?" Ichiro asks, feeling slightly unnerved by the stranger. Scratch that: there's something deeply wrong with that guy; the way he walks, the way he grins at them; that man can't hide it from them. They are dealers and interact with criminals daily. It's easy to recognize one another when they are not even trying to hide it.
Nat seems ready to answer, but instead, he is interrupted by his mysterious companion: "Name's Dabi; I'm his big bro... of sorts,"
Ichiro deadpans: "Of sorts?"
"Different moms, you know, the usual," He winks shamelessly "Dad's a prick," He adds, shrugging it as unimportant.
Ichiro does, in fact, know, but that's not important right now: "Why are you here? Where are Nei's parents?" They do look similar, but it's too suspicious to finally see one of the boy's family members after so long.
The alleged big brother ignores him: "Please keep taking care of my little bro," He says, ruffling the blond's bird nest-like hair, winning a whine of disapproval from the former, "He's got like zero survival instincts," The blue-eyed man turns around unceremoniously and goes through the shop's front door without any promises of coming back nor afterthoughts. "Bye-bye,"
"Hey! Wait-And he left...,"
"Nei," Ichiro sighs, "Who is that guy, really?" His expression strained as if trying to comprehend what the hell just happened.
The boy's demeanour hesitates and, after a few seconds of contemplation, begins twirling the air with his index fingers beside his forehead, "Uh,un loquito?"
Unfortunately, at least for the Hotta brothers, that would not be the last time they'd see Dabi around their shop. For someone who looked so much like an irresponsible older brother who likes to throw his sibling at strangers to take care of, he surely visits the boy a lot.
It is by the next day when the youngster goes out of the shop to complete this week's worth of deliveries that he is almost
"Thanks for your work," The man says and then adds somewhat nervously: "Here, arcade money," He seems scared by his forced companion. Dabi looks from afar, not frowning nor squinting at the old guy, his face straight and void of emotion: he looks like a fucking cryptid creep.
Nat receives the money with both hands and a happy bounce on his feet, "Thank you!"
They finish Nat's chores quite fast thanks to the guide of someone who actually knows how to speak properly and how to navigate the city. At the end of their journey instead of heading to the arcade to use all the pocket money Nat had been gifted by balding and erectile-dysfunctioning men, the boy decides to grab a bite at a random fast-food restaurant; Dabi follows suit in regards to their (unsigned) contract.
Dabi is confused. The cashier, a girl around his age with an undetectable quirk, keeps sneaking quick glances at him, and some of the kitchen staff make whispery conversations while looking at him through the spaces left between the shelves and other machinery. He tries to ignore as much as he allows himself to but can't stop his brows from slightly furrowing.
They wait patiently for their order to be prepared, once the kid's number is called he toddles towards the girl preparing his order; Dabi can see the girl murmur something to his healer and sees the boy nodding along, but can't make out what was being said. Eventually, the blond takes his food and they go together to an unoccupied table.
"Oh," He says, "You bought me something too?" "Why, thanks,"
But the boy sticks out his tongue and points in the direction of the serving station: "The miss,".
"What?" The blond response is a pout and a long, loud sip of his soda can. The fire user quickly turns towards the serving station, catching the eyes of the cashier girl, who blushes and hides under the counter, and
The black-haired man allows a breathy laugh through his lips, his lips curving into a confused smirk, and his eyes crinkle at the following squeal coming from behind the counter.
He is interrupted by Nat's disgusted fake gags; Dabi flicks him on the forehead.
The young man toughly ruffles the kid's dyed hair while holding him under his arm in fake affection. "Here he is safe and sound,"
"You stink," the kid grumbles and softly pushes him away, although exasperated.
"You are so rude to me," Dabi pushes him towards the twins rather strongly, "See ya,"
"Why don't you bring him-
Once again, the mysterious 'brother' steps outside before the man can inquire about the siblings' home situation.
-back home," Jiro sighs, putting his hands on his hips like an exasperated stay-at-home mom.
It's once he gets back to his apartment that the young man sniffs at his hands and coat, frowning profusely as he does it.
"I don't stink,"
Makoto smiles warmly at the kid's writing practice: his lines are sloppy and uneven, but you can see the effort he puts into each stroke of his borrowed pencil. She and Koichi have taken over teaching him the hiragana and katakana while slowly introducing Kanjis into their practices.
He speaks more than he can write and certainly understands a lot more than he can talk; compared to when they met him, two weeks ago, Nat speaks a lot more than he used to, although he takes his time to formulate longer sentences when required to.
She is well aware that what she should be doing right now is taking this kid to the nearest police station for them to do their work and reunite him with his family, as any law-abiding citizen would but as any person who has stayed long enough to start a conversation with her realizes within the first few minutes: Tsukauchi Makoto is intelligent and well educated. Tsukauchi Makoto is also the younger sister of a police detective who finds it hard to say no to her inquiries regarding his work; she is no stranger to how young children with powerful quirks suddenly vanish with no trace, even after being secured by police forces and returned to their families. As for now, whoever is taking care of this child is doing good work keeping him safe, fed and clothed, so there's no reason for her to intervene.
A giggly laugh interrupts her thoughts. Makoto turns towards the source and snorts: the blond sits on Koichi's back as the young man tries to use his quirk to move in circles. Kazuho watches from the other side of the room with a raised eyebrow: "If he gets dizzy, he is going to throw up," but ultimately is still amused by such a childish game: Makoto knows so.
However, as soon as she notices the tide turning she'll be ready to solve another mystery.
Unexpectedly, it comes sooner than she anticipated.
Dabi is on one of his lazy days when the kid barges into his (illegally occupied) apartment carrying his backpack on his back and a deliciously smelling paper bag in his hands. He only raises and eyebrow:
"Watcha got there?"
The blond unceremoniously 'drops' the plastic container in front of Dabi's seating position, right in front of the small TV the boy acquired for 'their' hideout.
"Katsukaree,"
"Woo-ho," The older male celebration is somewhat bland, but the pre-teen knows better than to be fooled by his lazy air: the things he brings him are probably the best meal he has had since they met. It was like two days ago, but that doesn't matter. "Thanks, brat. You know? I think I got the best part out of this deal." He smirks with that shit-eating grin the (apparently) mixed child is too fast at getting used to.
Oh, right. The deal. The deal Nat made with Dabi. Dabi's deal.
In exchange for heartlessly getting rid of those guys (and woman (1)) who are, for some reason, trying to kidnap him, Nat delivers preternatural healthcare to the random arsonist who saved his life.
Nat's job of fixing his older, evil doppelganger is almost daily. Apparently, the guy knows he has to be careful of the extent to which he uses his power, although it's almost as if he tries to destroy his body every time a minor inconvenience appears across his path. He really wants to know about the underlying issues of why using his own power hurts his 'brother', sadly, Nat has yet to reach the ability to formulate such an inquiry in a way both of them can understand. Language-wise.
Uh, well. No one's perfect.
Psychological problems aside: this curry is really fucking good.