"You know you look like a total asshole, right?" Dabi asked with a hint of mirth in his voice before pulling his cigarette back up toward his lips.
"…I feel like one, too," Mirio admitted, his own voice slightly muffled from within the beaked leather mask. He turned his entire head to the side to look over at Dabi, finding his partner's form partially warped by the curved blue lenses that very nearly pressed against his eyes. "This… this isn't going to work. I need to find a new cover for myself after today. It's hot, I've got no peripheral vision, I can't use my Quirk, and I feel ridiculous."
"…what do you mean, you can't use your Quirk?" Dabi asked, a sudden edge to his voice.
Mirio watched as Dabi let streams of smoke escape from his cheeks yet again, causing some of the passerby on the sidewalk to distance themselves from the display.
"Well… how much do you actually know about it?" Mirio asked, keeping his voice low as he watched the pedestrians in the immediate area begin to stare in his direction.
"…not as much as you'd probably expect," Dabi admitted as he flicked his spent cigarette into a storm drain. "I know who you are, and I've heard enough stories about the trophies, medals, and worship the three of you get in the precious little house of cards that makes up hero society, but as for specifics? I don't really pay much attention. I've got better things to do than memorize the Quirks of every enemy I might run into. I'll learn in the field if I need to."
Mirio did another visual sweep of the area, taking note of just how many people were starting to give them looks. The weight of seemingly hundreds of eyes began to sink into his mind as he wondered just how different his voice really sounded from within the mask, and how many of the people around him could potentially be fans… or ex-fans. He watched as a man with blue scales upon his skin bumped shoulders with Dabi, prompting an immediate retaliation as both men came to an abrupt stop and began to circle.
"You lookin' to start shit?" Dabi asked, his nonchalant tone giving way to something with a hint of venom.
"I didn't… you're walking directly in the middle of the sidewalk!" the scaled man accused. "Watch where you're going!"
"I walk wherever the hell I want," Dabi taunted with a widening grin. "You wanna make something of it?"
"Hey," Mirio interrupted as he put a hand on Dabi's shoulder. "We've got work to do. Let's… find a less crowded route. So… so people like him don't cause problems."
Dabi kept his unblinking gaze upon the stranger's eyes until the unfamiliar man finally looked away and shook his head.
"That's right, keep walkin'," Dabi sneered before turning his attention to Mirio. "There's a shortcut over here, anyway. C'mon. I want details, friend."
Mirio followed along as Dabi led the way past several roadside vendors, each hawking magazines, street food, or souvenirs. Within seconds, Dabi had slipped through the crowds of people milling about and into a tight alleyway. The space was seemingly devoid of people and reeked of rotting garbage, as though the narrow passage was a transition point between the civilized portion of the public streets and something else entirely. Mirio jogged to catch up and walk at Dabi's side, turning his head this way and that to get familiar with their surroundings.
"What was that all about?" Mirio asked. "I thought the whole point was not to draw attention to ourselves while we're out in public?"
"Oh, so you know better than me, suddenly?" Dabi asked, keeping his eyes on the path ahead.
"No, I…" Mirio began, only to let out a defeated sigh. "All I'm saying is that could have been avoided. If heroes had been called…"
"I'm in a combative mood," Dabi explained. "Haven't had a hit of something good in a while, and I get itchy after I'm clean for too long. Makes me want to go a little wild. Show a little power. Make a statement. Feel alive."
"I'm not sure I understand," Mirio admitted as he rounded a bend in the alleyway. He paused for a moment, racking his brain to make sense of his companion. "Uh… drugs? Is this a drug thing…?"
Dabi walked silently for a while, seemingly focused on some point in the distance.
"How much do you know about my Quirk, hero?" Dabi asked. "Did Overhaul squeal? Do you have any idea what I can do?"
"None," Mirio acknowledged. "Care to share?"
"Not before you," Dabi denied. "You haven't answered me yet, and I'm not sure I'm in the mood to get into mine. After all, you could still be trying to work me over. So, you first, pretty boy."
"It's called Permeation," Mirio began, using his hands as a visual aid to help explain his Quirk. "I can phase through things by making my body intangible. I can walk through walls, slip through the ground and pop back out, let hits pass right through me, that kind of thing."
"And the reason you can't use it right now is…?" Dabi asked, seeming to be genuinely intrigued as he turned to face Mirio with an expression of exhaustion.
"I mean, I could," Mirio answered sheepishly. "But after I phased somewhere… these clothes wouldn't come with me. My hero suit is mostly made up of synthetic fibers modeled after my own hair, so it's almost like the suit is a part of me. It moves with me. If I tried it in these borrowed clothes? Well…"
"…so you could walk through that building into some guy's living room, but you'd be bare-ass naked," Dabi said matter-of-factly as he hiked a thumb toward a nearby wall.
"…yeah," Mirio confirmed. "I'd go straight through with no problem, and my clothes would fall down to the pavement as if I teleported away."
Dabi raised a hand to his chin, suddenly looking pensive as he rubbed at the discolored flesh.
"Tell you what. I'll tell you all about my Quirk once we get to where we're going after we pull off this job, if you show me yours. We'll set up a changing shade or something for you to phase through, if you're a fuckin' prude."
"You… actually want to see it?" Mirio asked, his surprise evident in his voice. "I thought you wouldn't really care, to be honest."
"Yeah, well. I'm full of surprises," Dabi said mockingly as he emerged from the alleyway onto another sidewalk. "I've got my reasons, but we'll worry about that in a bit. For now, we've got some business to take care of across the street."
"Right, about that- what are we doing here?" Mirio asked as he took in his surroundings. "You never explained what the job you had to do out here was…"
"It's a simple one," Dabi said with a sigh as he raised an arm and pointed across the road to a specific building. "See that place? They owe the Yaks protection money. You and me are gonna go get it."
Mirio followed Dabi's accusatory finger with interest, only for several alarm bells to go off in his head the moment he caught sight of the specified building. The storefront appeared to be under construction, with blue tarps over the windows and construction scaffolding outside leading up to the roof. Half of the front of the building had been done up with fresh paint, while scorch marks marred the paneling on the other side of the front door. High above the door was a sign reading JIRO SOUND SELECTIONS.
"Wait," Mirio said as Dabi lowered his hand. The other man had a predatory grin on his face, while Mirio felt a heavy lump in his throat. "Wasn't this place on the news a while back? There was an attack- a random attack, and… one of the aggressors was described as having peeling flesh…"
"Yeah, kinda crazy, right?" Dabi asked. "I must have a long-lost sibling or something."
"Dabi," Mirio said, his voice full of seriousness. "Didn't someone die in there, the last time you went in?"
Dabi merely shrugged, keeping his hands in his pockets all the while.
"A hired goon. Not Shie Hassaikai, so the boss didn't care. The idiot who runs this place did put the finger on me publicly, though, and that's about to cost him. Our price just went up 10%, and Arowana wants me to collect. I know this asshole, and I've been doing this for a long time. If he hadn't gotten so uppity last time, things could've stayed good and simple… but no. Watch the door while I go in."
"Wait!" Mirio pleaded as he put a hand onto Dabi's chest to stop his advance. "Wait, just… please."
Dabi let out a snort, narrowing his eyes as Mirio moved to obstruct this path entirely.
"Cold feet, Hero?"
"No, I…" Mirio began, his heart pounding in his chest. "…let me do it. I'll shake him down for you."
Dabi broke out into a wheezing laugh, which quickly turned into a cough as he reached out a hand and slapped it to Mirio's shoulder. He doubled over as his fit continued and Mirio raised his hands, worried that Dabi might actually collapse.
"What? You?" Dabi taunted as he looked back up at Mirio, still coughing. "You couldn't even intimidate that jackass on the sidewalk! Come on, you really think you can handle this kind of errand?"
"What do you care?" Mirio shot back. "Think about it- if I pull it off? Good. Proves I'm really in this, and gets the job done. If I don't? You get to laugh your ass off, and I get slammed for it when we get back to home base. Win-win, right?"
Dabi finally lowered his arm and straightened his stance, his eyes alight with mischief.
"…alright, I'll play your game," Dabi said with a slow series of nods. "Go ahead- let's see you get it done. But if you don't… I step in, and if you do… you're not proving your loyalty that easily. This can be Step One."
"Right. Step One," Mirio repeated as he turned and began to hurry toward the street. "Just… let me do my thing! I've got this!"
"Ten minutes!" Dabi called. "Then I come out to play!"
Mirio sucked in a tense breath as he hurried toward the building, finding a flippable sign that said "CLOSED" in bright red letters hanging upon the door.
"Damn it," Mirio cursed under his breath as he wrapped his fingers upon the door handle and pulled.
The door popped open with little effort, and he strode into the shop with a sigh of relief that echoed through his mask. Inside, the show floor was a total mess- some display stands were covered in messy white tarps while others had been pushed up against the wall, seemingly ready to be restocked. All of the instruments had been arranged on the far side of the main room and placed behind protective glass, while a drum kit was lonely and disassembled in the corner. Rows upon rows of partially destroyed shelving were stacked with CDs, vinyls, and memorabilia, giving off the impression that the owner was in the process of taking inventory.
"Hey!" a voice called from over on Mirio's left. "We're not open again until next month!"
Mirio began to make his way toward the voice, clenching his fists and puffing his chest as his pulse hammered in his throat. As he caught sight of the lone occupant of the store, he recognized the man from the evening news. Kyotoku Jiro stood from his crouched position, holding a polishing rag in one hand and a vintage guitar in the other. The man's facial expression immediately turned to one of fear upon seeing Mirio's mask, and his posture stiffened.
"What do you want?" the man spat, dropping his rag and tightening his grip upon the guitar.
"…your grace period is up," Mirio said in the most authoritative voice he could muster through his nerves. "Dabi sent me to collect."
"Yeah? Dabi also sent me into debt," Kyotoku spat. "And Dabi isn't here, is he? If he wants more money from me, he can come and get it himself. I'm ready, this time."
"Do you really think I'd come here alone?" Mirio growled. "The rest of us have the place surrounded, and I'm not leaving without payment."
Kyotoku sucked in a tense breath through his nostrils, refusing to blink or back down as he stared up at Mirio.
"…you're bluffing. I know Dabi. This isn't his style at all. Who the hell are you, anyway?"
"An enforcer," Mirio answered quickly. "You're dealing with people above Dabi's pay grade, now. You'll be seeing more of me from here on out, and I'll do more than put you in debt if you don't cooperate."
"Yeah?" Kyotoku asked, flipping his long blonde hair to one side. "I've got people in the back that'll come in here the second I yell. What've you got on me?"
Mirio swallowed hard, feeling incredibly guilty and simultaneously thankful for his mask.
"…Kyoka's a pretty young thing, isn't she? I hear one of our boys saw her headed to U.A. earlier today. It'd be a shame if she didn't make it home."
Kyotoku's eyes widened and then narrowed only a moment later. He clenched his teeth, his hand shaking and knuckles white as he tightened his grip upon the neck of his guitar.
"You… son of a bitch…" the older man cursed before leaning the guitar back against the wall behind him. He reached into his back pocket and produced a wallet, beginning to count out paper notes. "You stay the fuck away from my daughter…"
"We will, as long as you pay up," Mirio threatened, having to strain his voice to keep his edge up. "10% hike, starting today."
Kyotoku looked up, his face full of hatred before he returned his attention to his wallet and continued counting.
"You people are disgusting," Kyotoku spat as he deposited a collection of paper bills into Mirio's waiting hand. "How do you even sleep at night?"
I don't think I will, Mirio replied within his head.
"…smart man. I'll be back next month. Be ready," Mirio warned before turning and beginning to walk away.
"Yeah, we'll see about that," Kyotoku replied as he picked up his guitar and began to mutter a string of curses to himself.
Mirio made his way to the door as quickly as possible, keeping his fingers tight around the cash. Upon exiting the store, he quite nearly jumped at the sight of Dabi leaned up against the wall right next to the door, a fresh cigarette trailing smoke into the air beside him.
"Well?" Dabi asked, his brow raised.
Mirio simply held out his hand, offering the stolen money as he kept his eyes away from Dabi.
"…I think I'm gonna throw up…"
Dabi plucked the paper from Mirio's fingers and counted the bills at an agonizingly slow pace. Seemingly satisfied, he pocketed the collection and gave Mirio a pat on the shoulder.
"Huh. Not bad. Not bad at all. C'mon, let's get moving. I know a place we can get you some food and hard alcohol. Should help chase away whatever feelings you've got going on."
Mirio couldn't bring himself to protest the notion as Dabi began to walk. A moment later, Mirio moved to follow, his entire body feeling a sickly sort of warm and constricted.
"Yeah… let's… let's do that…"
Author's Note:
What a hero!
-RD