Chapter Text
They have a new apartment.
It's the best they've ever had, but Tomie still deems it shitty. She doesn't have any standards, has never lifted a finger to improve any of their homes or make sure they have one in the first place, but that new decorating show is getting to her head.
Yes, the yellow walls are ugly, the paint faded and stained, but Keigo will change that soon. He has enough money now to buy paint. He might keep the yellow, just choose a brighter shade. Maybe add some green highlights.
Plants. They need plants. The apartment is sunny and big enough. He can put them outside on the balcony when it rains. One of the older workers at the factory suggested it, to save water.
The idea of bright yellow walls and plants is enough to lift his mood.
Keigo puts his meager belongings in his bedroom. For the first time ever he will have his own space. He sets up his mother's TV in her room, with a secondhand couch covered in red velvet, and a coffee table, so she won't watch TV from her bed all the time. It still feels like giving up, because he knows she'll never leave her bedroom again; having her watch TV in the main room allowed him to include her in his life, or at least pretend he could. But she can't sustain a rhythm and will sleep at odd hours and he can't stand it anymore, not when he has a full-time job. Their social worker has pointed out that trying to help his mother was admirable, but that the endeavor was pointless if she didn't want to be helped.
So Keigo grits his teeth, and lets go of that fight. Tomie doesn't care either way, and he can use the living room with the open plan kitchen as he wishes, without minding the noise he makes, and the only reaction he elicits from her is a flying eyeball making an occasional round in the apartment. He feeds his mother, reminds her to shower when the commercials are on, and lets her go back to her shows when the bare minimum is taken care of.
He swallows down his frustration. He tried. She won't pick herself up and he can't carry her. There's nothing more to say.
At least her behavior is dysfunctional enough to obtain a smaller, subsidized rent for her quirk disorder. Keigo told the social worker the input from her quirk might be too overwhelming for her cognitive abilities. It's bullshit, of course. Probably. She has less eyeballs than he has feathers so he knows some stuff about overwhelming input, but quirks do evolve in one generation. He wouldn't put it past her. Tomie is cunning enough to let the health professionals believe she's close to braindead. Keigo's exhaustion helped sell the act. So he gets money from the government for her. He's the official caretaker of his own mother, and gets her money sent to his account. Added to his salary, it's enough to let them live.
So the rent is cheap, especially for what they have; he couldn't have afforded such a big apartment in another area. The main reason is that the building is the last one standing from before the terrifying void left by some huge hero fight that destroyed the area months ago. It's all hush hush, so Keigo doesn't know which hero and which villain were involved, but the facts remain. He can see a huge crater from his bedroom's balcony and the other side of the street is gone. It's a terrible sight and enough to make most people uneasy. But Tomie doesn't see the devastation from her bedroom, and Keigo can fly. He's not afraid of heights.
He has already reconed the area. The crater is slowly filling with rain water. One day it's going to become a nice lake, and Keigo hopes he will be able to buy the apartment by then, because the lake might increase its value. A tiny ecosystem is developing down there, known only to him - there's no way to access the bottom safely without wings. He's found grass, water plants, frogs. He likes to perch on a concrete slab and watch. The tiny lake attracts herons and cranes.
He observes the other birds observe him.
Nobody else gets to see him with his wings nowadays. Keigo was subjected to so much harassment in their previous places for being an heteromorph, he chose to hide them entirely upon moving in this new area. He doesn't need them at work: they would only get in the way and end up smelling like fish. So he keeps the feathers he needs to protect himself, and the others stay at home. He keeps an eye on Tomie that way. It's not far, and he's able to focus enough to map the apartment, pick up the lunch he made for her, and deposit it in her room so she doesn't end up eating nothing until he comes home.
If he perches on their building's roof, he can see the waterfront, the lighthouse, the warehouses, the harbor and its fishing boats, and the factory he works in sorting, gutting, and boxing fish all day. Once in a while he has a drink with the other workers - alcohol-free for himself. They live in the confines of their tiny horizon, swallowing down their dreams with a gulp of sake, but he's not ready to settle for this life.
Nights are for himself. For flying unseen above the city, knowing he could get arrested for daring to use wings that are a part of him. They're for hunting. Keigo knows what being an heteromorph entails. He's not going to repress those urges, just direct them purposefully. He can help in ways heroes never do.
Once, Keigo was a kid convinced that heroes were make-believe. Once, he was a kid worshipping one hero for arresting his abusive shitstain of a sperm-donor. Then that kid had ended up in the street and no hero helped. After months surviving on garbage in a subway station, a social worker came along. The dance of paperwork and half-assed solutions started. School, too. Then Keigo had trouble performing there on top of the jobs he had to work to keep himself and a useless Tomie afloat.
He's eighteen, now. He hasn't been a child in a long time.
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All Dabi is able to feel nowadays is hunger. He has spent three years on the street since leaving that creepy orphanage, barely surviving. He lost three years of his life to coma and had the emotional development of a thirteen year old when he rashly decided to not come home to his family. He regrets it sometimes, and absolutely loathes that feeling. The void in his stomach silences his ever growing anger.
The good side of this life is that it made him grow up really fast.
The harbor area is filled with hiding places, but all he finds in the trash is rotten fish. It makes him heave, but he still gathers some of it in a sandwich wrapper. Seagulls like them.
Seagulls are tasty.
The trick is to blast them very carefully with fire, so the feathers burn, but not the meat.
Killing the birds after cooking them makes him feel like a monster. But according to the looks he gets in the street, he is one. He grins. The staples newly set on his face sting. He doesn't think the gang that was harassing him into joining will look for him in Fukuoka. They want a heavy hitter, but he has better plans than burning himself to a crisp so others can make money.
After eating three birds, he feels a little bit more clearheaded. He washes his hands in seawater, even though the seams on his wrists burn like hell, and the salt turns his flame yellow for a second when he lights his hands up to dry them. He watches the sunset, sitting next to the lighthouse he broke in to find shelter, and tries to find peace in the sight.
Beside the gang, a man named Giran offered him work, back in Tokyo. If Dabi accepts his offer, he'll definitely turn to organized crime. If he doesn't, he might not survive long enough to go after his father. It should be an easy choice.
But it's not. A part of him, burdened with regrets, wants a place to call home.
He's nineteen, now. And he's so exhausted.
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Keigo likes the little pebbled strand next to the lighthouse. He dislikes finding seagull carcasses strewn everywhere. He understands nature, but this isn't a predator. Whoever did this is sick. Or maybe desperately hungry, he tempers, turning the dead bird on its back. It's been partially eaten, and some parts are charred. The bird hasn't even been gutted, smelly innards still intact, more or less. It's disgusting.
This is the deed of a clumsy hunter, then. He snorts. Letting a feather loose to scout the area, he looks for a heartbeat.
He finds it inside the lighthouse. Through the feather, he listens to the raspy breath of a chain smoker. The person is asleep, their temperature abnormally high. Are they ill? What kind of sorry soul would be hiding in a lighthouse, feeding on messily killed seagulls? Keigo leaves the feather to monitor them, and goes back home. He doesn't work tomorrow but he still needs to sleep. He'll come back in the morning with some food. He can afford it now.
He knows how it feels to go hungry. If the person sleeping here is a poor guy down on their luck, he will help them. If they're killing birds for laughs, though, he'll kick their ass.
He comes back to a quiet apartment. Blue light indicates Tomie is still in front of the TV, but he finds her asleep. He turns the device off, and gathers her dishes. She ate all the miso soup he gave her, but didn't bother with anything else. Her eyeballs rest in a dish filled with saline solution for the night. Keigo is pleased she at least took care of that herself. She tends to just leave them on the bed and then complain they're dry and itchy. Maybe the social worker was right, and babying her too much is counterproductive.
He washes the dishes quickly before going to bed. In the lighthouse, the person is still sleeping.
The feather detects a change in the early hours of morning. Keigo gathers some simple food. Miso soup in a thermos bottle, bread, a couple of mikans. He leave the same array of food for Tomie, should she decide to get up before he comes back. Putting some feathers in a backpack, he leaves the apartment.
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Dabi stirs in the early morning, hungry again. He doesn't feel rested and everything hurts. Sleeping on piles of rotting paper on the floor will do that. He wonders if there's a market somewhere near. He might find some fruit or veggies for free when the vendors pack up.
The lighthouse lacks the most rudimentary equipment. The single tap works, though. Dabi lets the water run for some time until it clears. It's the color of rust, but he can boil it with his quirk so it's at least safe to drink. He rummages in the closets, and mostly finds old paperwork and rusty tools; a cup with a broken handle, but better than nothing. He rinses it with the mostly-clear water and carefully heats it up. Leaving it to cool for later, he keeps searching.
He drinks the water after giving up on his search, and steps outside. There's not a single soul in sight. For some reason, tourists avoid the area, probably because of the hero fight that killed so many people not far from the harbor. Not that people really think the place is haunted, but it's a dead end, and the most depressing sight. Dabi had a look at the crater when he first arrived. He found a pile of dead flowers next to the hastily built safety barriers. This is where the road stops, cut in two by the disaster, and there's nothing more than a rotting reminder, and fading farewell messages.
The tourist area is on the other side of the hole, so naturally all traffic was redirected to other roads. Nobody has any reason to come here, next to the industrial harbor and its fish stench.
Dabi sighs. He still has some fish innards left. Time to see if he can catch more seagulls.
He carefully opens the sandwich wrapper containing his bait, and waits. The damn birds won't come near, though. Some of them circle in the vicinity, but fly away, as if frightened by something. It takes a long time for one of them to approach. Dabi sends a blast of flame at it, but misses. His wrist stings like it got slapped.
"What the hell," he swears.
"So that's how you kill them. Why the fuck would you do that?"
He turns around, and his first reflex is to burn, but he freezes when something sharp presses against his throat. The boy holding the knife is around his age. He's blond, handsome, and his yellow eyes are pinning him in place. Dabi looks at the bright red wings. Being an heteromorph explains why he could sneak up on him so easily. Dabi tries not to fall prey to prejudice, and genuinely isn't convinced that heteromorphs have more of a violent streak than the general population, but he's heard it often enough to be wary. Whatever the truth is on that issue, though, this boy doesn't fuck around.
"I asked you a question," the boy says.
"To eat them..."
"Hum. Thought so."
Dabi stays still. The tone is less harsh, all of a sudden, and the boy looks at him closely, most likely assessing the threat he might pose.
"I've got food," says the boy. "I'll give it to you if you promise not to burn me. That's quite the quirk you have here. So?"
"Alright. Put the knife away, for fuck's sake."
The boy smiles, and takes a step back. Dabi doesn't have the time to even see the knife he was holding, it vanished from his neck so quickly; he felt the displaced air against his fucked up skin. Then the guy gives him a bag.
"Dig in. It's all for you. But I want my bottle and my bag back."
Dabi peers inside the bag, incredulous. Nobody just gives him food nowadays; it happened at the beginning, before the scars became so prominent, but now he only gets wary or even disgusted looks.
Who is this guy?
-------
Keigo watches the lanky boy fold his legs and sit on the rocky ground. He sniffs the food, like he's afraid it could be laced with something, before he starts eating it slowly. He's taking the smallest bites, and Keigo understands why when the staples closing his mouth start bleeding.
He sits down too, and tries not to stare. The boy can't handle his own quirk, obviously. He's covered in burn scars. Under all that, he has delicate features, framed with snow-white hair. His eyes burn a bright blue. He looks frail, famished, and desperate. He might be a runaway, but he doesn't match the descriptions of the currently missing persons. Keigo would know. Looking for runaways is one of his specialties, and he makes sure to stay up to date.
"I'm Keigo. What's your name?"
"I go by Dabi."
Keigo takes note of the hesitation. The guy isn't even sure he should give him that fake name, or he just came up with it on the fly. But his state says otherwise.
"Thanks for the food," says Dabi. "Dunno how to repay you though."
"You don't have to. I've never seen you in the area."
"I'm from Tokyo. Needed a... vacation, let's say."
Keigo nods. The guy is probably a small time criminal, or trying to avoid gangs. It makes sense, with a quirk like that.
"This is not the best place to squat," says Keigo. "There's a homeless shelter in town, you know?"
"No, thanks."
The blue eyes turn wary. Alright. Criminal becomes more and more likely. They ask for names in shelters. Keigo can't help but pick at it a bit more.
"Well I can't feed you long term, but there's a social worker I know. He's a good person. He could help you."
"Can't. I'm... I just can't." The boy seems mostly defeated. "They'll send me back to my family. I know they will. I can't go back there. My father will make me wish I was dead."
"So you can't give your real name. Means you can't work either."
"I'd need an ID for that."
"There are laws against abusive parents, you know?"
Dabi laughs. He sounds a bit crazed. "My old man has enough money to get away with everything he did."
"Alright."
Keigo ponders the situation for some time. Dabi, meanwhile, finishes the soup and gives the bag back.
"Thanks. It all tasted great. I'm... Thanks."
His shoulders slump.
"You're stuck, right?" says Keigo.
"Yeah, I guess I am."
"Well, this place is a dead end. And the lighthouse is moldy as hell. The first storm will make you wish you were anywhere else. You could still try the shelter. Ask for Daisuke, tell him I sent you." It's not the first time he has to do this. He has paper and a pen, and quickly draws a map, with Daisuke's number.
Keigo won't push it, though. He has learned that some battles are not worth fighting. Tomie taught him that.
What Dabi does now is up to him.