Chapter Text
Dabi cleans the needles when the client finally leaves, setting them methodically into their places. His vision momentarily darkens by the black smoke on the outside from the train.
“Dabi?” he hums, not bothering to look up. “We are going to close the shop. Why don’t you come with us for once?”
He grunts, and his coworker sighs. His mom hasn’t visited in a while, busy as she was with Shoto, so they make the most of it and try to suck up to him. He has rejected coffee, food, help, and now an invitation to go out with them. He side-eyes the woman and she takes the hint, smiling politely before leaving.
In the distance, a white smoke covers the horizon. It must be Hawks’ Castle, but he doesn’t particularly care.
The other workers at the hat shop do care, throwing themselves at the windows to see if they can catch a glimpse of the wizard.
“It’s Hawks!”
“Where?”
“I’ve never seen him this close!”
“There! It’s his castle! In the distance!”
“I wonder if Hawks is in town.”
Dabi looks up, just as a couple of planes cross the sky. He goes back to his table.
“He’s gone.”
“No, he’s just hiding from the soldiers.”
“Did you hear about Martha from South Haven? They say Hawks tore her heart out.” Dabi rolls his eyes.
“How scary!”
“Don’t worry, he’s not going to eat yours.”
“He only preys on pretty girls, after all.” They all laugh.
They leave the shop, finally, and he cleans in peace. The silence is only broken by the dull noises outside, the clack of his tools on the desk, and the roar of the train, covering everything in black smoke.
When he’s finally done, he sighs, throwing his head back and taking a big breath, hands itching for a smoke. Natsuo convinced him to stop, and he has kept his promise so far, but it hasn’t been easy. He jumps off the stool, stretches his arms over his head until they crack, and grabs his wallet and keys before exiting the workshop.
Over his head, planes with the King’s flag fly, covering the sky with their brainwashing messages.
War is war , he thinks bitterly, unintentionally checking himself in the mirror, eyes zeroing in the vain attempts of covering the scars on his face with iron. He ducks his face down and leaves, closing the shop on his way out.
The city is bursting with life, and he rushes down the cobblestone street dodging passer-bys. He has to run the last few meters, hand barely grasping on the damn bar before the tramway takes off. He throws a nasty glare over his shoulder to the officer, who barely pays him any mind.
He pays no mind in turn to the planes over his head, the flags in every window, the marching soldiers and the parading horses, and he especially pays no mind to the lambs who think they are people waving at the tanks crossing the streets that used to be warless.
But how long until it gets to this pen?
When he finally gets down, he swats confetti out of his hair, and walks in the opposite direction, shoulders hunched and hands thrust into the pockets of his coat. He crosses a plaza, filled to the brim with weapons he’d rather forget how to use and what they can do to human flesh. He power walks, shoes thumping against the ground, and ducks his face when one of the soldiers looks his way.
He follows the note’s directions, walking down the streets and avoiding the main ones and the parade. Natsuo’s handwriting, as with every healthcare student, is fucking chicken scratch, so he has to squint and bring the note to his frigging eyes to try and read the damn thing.
Mistake.
“Hey-” he looks up, scowling at the dumb soldier squinting at him. “Are you lost?”
“No.”
The soldier’s partner tilts his hat up, looking at him from head to toe. Dabi resists the urge to cover his face further with his coat.
“The parade is the other way.”
“I have no interest in going to the parade,” he growls. “Officer.”
“And what is of your interest?” the soldier says.
“None of your fucking business.”
The officer’s moustache scrunches with his nose. “You look like a thief to me boy, prowling like a vagabond in that ratty coat,” he hisses, grabbing Dabi’s face, piercings stabbing into his cheeks. “And what’s with all this? You trying to look like a criminal on purpose?”
Dabi pushes the man off, and the other soldier lifts his weapon.
“Leave me the fuck alone, I didn’t do anything,” he sneers.
“You attacked an officer, for one,” the moustache one says. “You are old enough to be in the army and yet you are lurking in the streets.”
“I did my time, I was discharged for injuries.”
“That’s barely a scratch,” the other soldier says. “And apparently you are healthy enough to fight other soldiers.”
“For now you are coming to the quarters with us-”
“Don’t fucking touch me!”
“There you are-” Dabi is about to deck the new fucking asshole grabbing him when he catches a glimpse of his face. There is no way he is a soldier. “Sorry, I got distracted at the parade- he’s with me.”
“And you are?” the moustache officer asks.
“Wizard. Might know me as Pendragon?” the blonde man smiles, throwing an arm around Dabi’s shoulder.
“I don’t care- we are going to take this man-”
“Oh really?” the wizard muses, lifting a finger elegantly. “It looks to me like you are just leaving.”
The soldiers straighten immediately, legs moving stiffly but down the street and away from them.
“What the-”
“Hey- what-”
“Don’t hold it against them,” he says, lips curled in a smile as they disappear, taking a turn. Dabi quirks an eyebrow. “Not all of them are bad.”
“I don’t care.”
The wizard blinks, stupid smile still in place, and leans in, a little on his toes to reach Dabi’s eyes. “Where to? I’ll be your escort this evening.”
“Do I look like I need an escort?” Dabi says, shrugging the arm off.
The wizard bites his lip, looking over his shoulder. “Well- I think you do now.”
“What the fuck-” he looks behind him too, but the wizard grabs his hand and tugs him forward.”
“Act normal, we are being followed,” he whispers, Dabi swats his hand.
“ You are being followed, I’m going to the fucking bakery, leave me alone,” he hisses. He’s about to turn left, when the wizard grabs his elbow, pulling him to his side.
Almost immediately, a black shadow emerges from the building behind them, and the chill that runs down his spine is enough to close his mouth shut. The wizard’s hand is gripping his arm strongly, and he walks faster as the shadow follows them down the street.
“Sorry,” he whispers, not sounding sorry at all. Dabi scowls harder. “Looks like you are involved now.”
Dabi’s about to give him a piece of his mind when another shadow appears in front of them, and the wizard turns abruptly into another street. They run, dodging shadows and drunks on the floor, but they appear from every wall and every corner, and sooner than he can realize they are on them.
“Hold on!”
Dabi does, and then he’s flying, up, up, up over the buildings, shadows under them staring with their lifeless yellow eyes.
“Now,” the wizard says as he grabs Dabi’s hands. “Drop your legs and start walking.”
He wants to say it’s bullshit, but the wizard does it, and then they are walking over the god damned market, walking as if there's a floor under their feet but it’s just air, and Dabi gapes as they fly over the town.
“See?” the wizard says cheekily. “Not so hard, is it?”
Dabi grunts, but copies him, and they walk slightly down, going over the rooftops and the chimneys, and over the frigging people . How are they not seeing them?
“You are a natural.”
“Don’t you fucking dare drop me!” he shouts. “Eyes ahead!” The wizard chuckles, and continues walking with an easy smile, and Dabi looks at him unimpressed, but skips over the town with the wizard’s hands warm on his.
They reach the bakery’s balcony, and the wizard lets him settle, perching on the railing with a smile and his head a little cocked to the side.
“A very pleasant walk, but I’ll have to cut it short,” he says. Dabi disagrees. “I’ll make sure to draw them off, but you have to wait until the coast is clear.”
“Piss off already.”
The wizard shakes his head, snickering under his breath, but jumps and falls down backwards. Dabi rolls his eyes at the dramatics and enters the building.
He tells one of the bakers to go fetch Fuyumi for him, and he waits for her in the hallway. He knows when she’s coming cause a bunch of Fuyumi! Fuyumi we will wait here for you! Fuyumi you look gorgeous today! follow her inside.
“Dabi!” she says, grabbing his face and inspecting it for injuries. He lets her. “How did you land on the veranda like that? Were you walking over the rooftops?”
He sighs. “Something like that.”
“Fuyumi, would you like to use my office?” a creep twice her age offers, but he fucks off when Dabi scowls at him.
“You don’t have to do that,” she tells him.
“It’s my face, I can’t help it,” he says, smiling a little to tease his sister. She punches his shoulder.
“You’d look so handsome without the piercings though…” she tells him when they sit at the warehouse.
“I don’t want to talk about this Fuyumi.”
She looks at him, grimacing, and drives more idiots off when they come to harass her. Doesn’t he look intimidating enough already?
He tells her about the flying and she gasps worriedly.
“He must have been a wizard then!”
“That’s what I thought,” he says.
“You’ve been so lucky. Had he been Hawks he would have stolen your heart,” she whispers.
Dabi snorts. “Doesn’t he only do that to pretty girls?”
Fuyumi smacks him behind the neck. “Don’t fucking joke with that! What if he had?” Dabi rolls his eyes. “You need to be more careful. We live in dangerous times.”
“Don’t start Fuyumi,” he says tiredly.
“We almost lost you once already,” she says, taking his hand. “Just be careful. No more ribbing soldiers, no meddling with wizards. I heard even the Wizard of the Waste is back on the prowl.”
Dabi hums, and Fuyumi shakes his shoulders. “Are you listening to me?”
“Fuyumi,” a white haired woman says as she puts down a heavy looking box. His sister flinches, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “They told me to tell you the chocolate eclairs are done.”
“Oh, thanks Usagiyama, I’ll be right there.” Usagiyama grins and leaves, leaving Fuyumi blushing and looking down to her apron. Dabi smiles.
“Well, I’ll be going now,” he tells her. “I just wanted to make sure you were doing okay.”
“You don’t have to do that,” she says softly.
“I know.”
He takes the tram again, and it’s almost dark by the time he gets back home. He gets inside and locks the door, throwing his keys to the table and grabbing a couple matches to light the lamp.
Dabi still has his back to the door when the bell chimes. He turns, too tired to deal with this shit, and comes face to face with a weird man, with a legit hand over his face, and several others grasping his arms.
“We are closed.”
The guy looks at him, Dabi thinks, but doesn't answer.
“Hey- I said we are closed.” Still no answer. Dabi leaves the matches on the table.
“Dude are you deaf? It’s closed, ” he grunts. “I’d swear I’ve closed the damn door too. If you are trying to rob someone you got the fucking wrong guy.”
“What an ugly shop,” the guy says slowly. “And yet you manage to be the ugliest thing here.”
Dabi rolls his eyes, walking to the guy. “I’m afraid you will have to fuck off now, sir,” he says with a mocking tone. “We don’t work with assholes.”
The guy watches him walk to the front of the shop, and Dabi throws the door open with a strained smile. “I’m sure you can connect the dots and find the exit.”
The guy scratches his neck, but doesn’t move. “I can admit you have balls,” he says. “Standing up to the Wizard of the Waste.”
“My damn fucking luck-” Dabi groans. He sighs, crossing his arms over his chest. “What are you going to do, curse me?”
The wizard scratches his neck once more, before growing into a shadow and throwing himself at Dabi, who lifts his arms to cover himself.
A wind blows past him, but he’s unharmed.
“The best part of this curse is that you can’t tell anyone about it,” the wizard says. “My regards to Hawks.”
Before Dabi can tell him to fuck off to the Wastes already and take Hawks with him, he’s gone. Dabi blinks, thoroughly unimpressed, and rolls his eyes, wondering what the fuck he did to be caught in the middle of a wizard's fight.
He grabs the keys from the table again, and that’s when he sees it. His hand.
Dabi scowls, and runs to a mirror, trying to blink the nightmare away. He splashes his face with water, and looks again, but the monster is still there.
Or his reflection is.
His face is gaunt, chin and cheeks burnt and dead, held together by staples, and the skin under his eyes is too. His hair is black and in spikes, and checking under his clothes he can see he’s covered in those damn scars on his arms and legs too.
The worst part? They hurt like hell.
Fuck.