Dabi?

I groaned as I walked through the door to our villa, tossing my bag onto the kitchen island.

"Mom?" I called, looking around.

My eyes caught a note.

I got called in suddenly. So I left for Egypt on the jet. I didn't want to call you during school so make sure to call me when you get back. There's chicken and rice in the fridge. -Love Mom ❤

Sighing, I lugged a pot and warmed up the food on the stove while I called, I wouldn't make it long since there was a seven-hour difference.

It rang a few times before picking up, "Hey, Mom."

"Hey, baby. How was your day?"

"Eventful. There's a lot of classmates with strong Quirks."

"Good. That's good, it'll give you a learning opportunity."

I grab a nylon basting spoon and slowly stir.

"Mr. Yagi said hi."

"Is he still...?"

"Yeah, still totally pining over you."

She laughed, "Well. I'm not surprised to hear that, but he's irrelevant to the conversation at the moment. Did you make any friends?"

"Uh," I adjusted the phone on my shoulder as I moved the pot from the hot eye to the eye next to it, "I wouldn't necessarily say friends, but I met a few of my classmates. And I showed my battle training partner, Todoroki, what a fist bump was."

"That was nice of you."

I turned the blazing red stove eye off, "Oh, yes. Courteous."

"What's this battle training about?"

"Two-on-two battle indoors. We were either the Villain Team or Hero Team...The villains had a bomb—"

"Bomb?!"

"Fake. Fake bomb, Ma."

"Oh...I was about to say—"

A laugh jumps past my lips, "Please don't threaten my school."

"Anyways, what were you saying?"

"The heroes had to either capture the villains or get ahold of the bomb—typical hero-villain scenario, y'know."

"Smart to start off with that, it's a good head-start."

"I ended up on the Villain Team."

"You win?"

"Of course," I reached for a plate in the cabinet and a fork from a drawer.

"Good job..." she trailed off as a voice called for her in the background, "Come back later, I'm talking to my daughter right now."

"Mom, you can go ahead. I'm sure it's important."

"Nothing's more important than you."

I placed my plate on the kitchen island, "Well, I was gonna eat and study anyway, so you can go ahead."

She sighed, "Alright...if you're sure."

"I love you."

"I love you, too, sweetheart."

The call ended and I tossed the phone next to my plate.

I dug the fork into the meal, quickly eating.

At least Mom's cooking makes the house feel a little less...empty.

After some time, I move between studying and eating, "Ugh, I really don't like math..."

In between, I played with our Bengal cat, Amai, before feeding her.

Finishing homework was simple enough since all my studying actually made it easier for me.

And after two hours, I wrap up the top of the pot with foil, put it back in the fridge, and cleaned the dishes I used.

Checking on Amai and finding her asleep left me alone with free time.

"Now, what should I do?"

╔═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗

*𝐔nᑯ𝖾𝗋𝗍α𝗄𝖾*

╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝

I let out a deep breath as my fingers brushed against the keys of the grand piano, absentmindedly, I push random keys until I think of something to play.

Mozart's Piano Sonata No. 8 came to mind, A Minor, K. 310.

I start slowly before I relax and play like I have no worries.

My fingers glide against the keys as if life is as featherlight as them.

But quickly, my fingers press harder into the keys, my negative emotion seeping in.

I breathe deeply, trying not to let it consume me.

Instead, I let it carry me away. Far, far away.

And I fade into the keys, almost like I'm watching myself go through the motions so familiar to me.

And I feel like I'm sinking, sinking into the water.

I feel at peace here, with the silence, the emptiness, being surrounded by nothing, yet everything.

Then my fingers stop moving like they know when the song's over.

It takes a while for my stare to trail away from my hands on the keys to the window in front of me.

"Maybe I should go out to train?"

I decided to leave the water, the peace, trading it for chaos.

I change into one of my training outfits, a sports bra, jacket, cycling shorts, and training shoes.

Grabbing my backpack purse, I stuff a water bottle with strawberries from the kitchen into it as well as some money just in case.

I put on my wireless headphones, blasting them before I leave the house after turning out any lights.

I zip up my jacket, it's still a bit chilly at night, and jog until I get to one of my favorite places, the park.

There aren't many people here at night, which I enjoy.

I crouch down to a flower patch, getting distracted by nature.

Smiling, I remember I picked a lot of flowers as a kid until one day I realized…

Every time you pick a flower, you kill it because you think it's beautiful.

How ironic.

"Humans can be that way sometimes..." my fingers brushed against a few petals.

We destroy some of the most beautiful things because we want them for ourselves.

Not that I don't understand the meanings of dead flowers, you use them for graduations, to celebrate the rebirth and new beginning of your family or friend at a wedding, funerals for the dead, an offering of love…

Life can be so complex.

"Complex, but despite all the pain, sadness, and getting so, so tired, is quite beautiful...because it's still a story, and not all of them are so simple," I smiled.

I like complexities, it brings more detail to life rather than simply being black and white.

I groaned, standing back up, "All right, enough of that. Time to train."

Another reason I like this park, other than the peace of night and nature, is how far it is from the bustling city.

Close enough for a 20-minute drive to the city, far enough where it won't bother anyone who doesn't like noise.

This is great for me since I train here. Since I accidentally destroyed a few patches of grass (and pissed off a park ranger), Mom just went ahead and brought a whole area, on estimate about the size of a football field, the rest of the vastly large park is for the public (I barely take 15%).

I didn't want to hurt anyone, but still wanted an area outside of home to train since nature is best for my Quirk anyway.

Once I step within my land, I shed off my jacket, tossing it somewhere along with my headphones, phone, and backpack.

Rolling back my shoulders and stretching, I call out, "Clone."

I feel a pull on my body, as my atoms multiply and make a clone of me.

The clone also stretches with me for a few minutes.

I'll train with myself sometimes, to learn and surpass (also, because I don't really like asking for help to train).

I'll start with one and add more as time goes on, but I can't make any more than four right now, more than that and I lose my breath plus, the detail of the clones get weaker.

It's strange to see a 4d version of myself looking back at me.

"I'm gonna kick your ass."

I grin, getting into a battle position, "Oh, I'm sure. Quirkless combat first?"

"Why not?"

We charge at the same time, I dodge a punch thrown at me.

Gotta avoid those, my punches hurt.

In return, I give an uppercut.

She flies back, but quickly catches herself and flips backward a few times for distance.

Beckoning me with a finger, I attack, but at the last second, I change the angle of my kick.

She catches my leg, which prompts me to fall back and balance on my hands, using my free leg to kick her.

"Dirty trick!"

Blows are evenly traded, the battle getting harder as we catch my weak spots and adapt.

Our breaths heave as we stare one another down, neither daring to charge first.

"It's about time to battle with our Quirk, right?"

"Sure."

╔═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗

*𝐔nᑯ𝖾𝗋𝗍α𝗄𝖾*

╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝

I sigh after a sip from my water bottle, leaning on my hand as I sit on the ground.

If I'm tired from fighting against 3 clones of me, I can't even imagine how it could be for someone else.

I dig into my bag and check my phone, seeing a text from Mom.

'Good night Tannie.'

I smile and text her back.

'I was training. Didn't see this before. Good night Luv you. (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ)'

I also see a text from Ashido, after school, she had wanted to trade numbers, Kirishima, too, but neither of us have communicated yet.

'hey, gurl! I totally had fun with you even if you did kick my butt ＞﹏＜'

A breathy laugh escapes me, 'I had a lot of fun too. We should totally be on the same team next time, though!'

Grunting, I stood, tucking my phone into my bag and moving to the opening of the park.

And as my adrenaline from training came down, life came crashing back down.

How tired I was, how alone I felt, all the pressure weighing heavy on my shoulders.

The strain on my mind and the strain of three hours of training for my body made it worse.

"I can't be tired yet. I shouldn't be tired yet."

I plop onto a wooden bench, tossing my head back, then my eyes water without my permission.

Why am I crying?

I shouldn't be—

But I am.

I sit up, holding my legs as I cry into my knees.

But...why am I crying? When was the last time I cried?

It's all I can hear, curse my hearing at a time like this.

"Hey, you're in my spot, kid."

I look up from the darkness (I didn't hear him due to...my moodiness), my eyes meeting turquoise ones.

I quickly wipe away my tears, I refuse to let anyone think I'm weak. I'm not.

I force the wobbliness out of my voice, pointing a thumb back at the bench with a small silver plaque labeled 'Public Bench' "I didn't know people owned public park benches."

He scoffed, "Nobody can see that shit."

"Well, I was here first. You can just sit on the other side."

"Technically I was here first, I sat here before you did."

I raised a brow, "How do you know? You don't even know who I am."

Rolling his eyes, he jammed his hands into his pockets, "At the very least, scoot over, as you said, it's a public bench. Don't hog it."

"There's another bench over there that's completely free," I pointed to a bench several feet away.

"I like this one."

Groaning in annoyance, I scoot to one end, he makes himself comfortable on the other.

The silence was not awkward, but not comfortable either.

He placed an arm on the bench, leaning his head on a fist to look at me, "So what're ya' whining for in the middle of the night? Shouldn't you be at home, might get snatched or something."

I decided to ignore the crying question, "It wouldn't be wise of them to snatch me. I'm pretty strong so I think I'll be fine, thanks."

"It's always the cocky little girls like you that get grabbed first."

"Thanks for the life lesson," I roll my eyes.

"You get in a fight?"

"Huh?"

His finger gestures at his cheek, "You got dirt on it like you were on the ground."

"Oh!" I wipe at my cheeks aimlessly, not having a mirror on me, "No, I was training."

"Training at night?"

"Why not? Besides, I like night. And it seems you do, too."

He grinned, "It's when all the interesting people come out."

"That, and it's peaceful," I smiled, "Sometimes people can get suffocating no matter how much you like them, so it's nice to be out at night, it's a whole new world."

"You're a weird kid."

"So I've been told, I could care less, though. I'd rather be different than be the same as everyone else, there's no fun in that."

He scoffed, "People can be pretty boring, all following the same shit, the same people, almost like they have no minds of their own."

I laughed, "It can be that way at times, yes. Sometimes, I think people may be so scared to not be liked, be on their own, or not be accepted...they just conform to what everyone wants or deems acceptable and become it. Not having a true identity of their own."

I noticed his body stiffened at that.

Has he felt that way before?

I smiled, offering a hand, "Name?"

"Why do ya' wanna know my name?" he offered a suspicious glare.

"Just out of courtesy, otherwise I'll end up giving you a nickname, a habit of mine."

It was quiet for a moment, he might not want to share his name.

"You don't have to tell me your—"

"—Dabi."

I tilted my head, "Dabi?"

He raised a brow, "Got a problem with it?"

I shook my head, offering a smile of assurance, "No, I like it. It's a name you chose for yourself, the person who you were had to die—or be cremated—for you to live as you are now, Dabi. And you're proud, right? That's all that matters."

He squinted, "You're not afraid of me?"

"What do I have to be afraid of?"

He laughed, "I'm pretty scary looking, I've heard."

"That's just for people who think grey doesn't exist in a world of black and white. Ignorant people see another's scars as ugliness or something to fear. Others see a beautifully complex story that goes with the person wherever they go."

"I wouldn't call my story beautiful. But definitely fucking complex, yeah."

I giggled, "I guess that's fair."

"You got a scar, too, it seems."

I followed his gaze to my hand, the long scar that raised from my skin, "Part of my story. Had to save myself."

"No hero to save you?"

"I learned not to be too dependent on heroes early in life. They save people, but they can't save everyone."

"Heroes are stupid."

I raised amused brows, "I haven't heard that opinion before. What makes you feel that way?"

"They can be worse than the bad guys, use their power to their advantage."

"Personal experience?"

"You can say that."

"That must have broken your trust. Is that why you don't like them now?"

He abruptly stood up, "This talk is getting a bit...personal for my taste."

I stand too, I should definitely get home, "People tend to find me easy to talk to. It was nice to meet you, Mr. Dabi!"

I cover my mouth, "Oh...you are a mister, right?"

"Yeah, duh, I have a dic-."

I hastily cut him off, "Ah, ah! Don't finish that word, please. There are just some people who don't like to be called that, so I thought I'd make sure before I assumed completely."

"How charitable of you."

I find myself pouting, before giving a smile and walking off, "Well, anyways. I'll see you next time, Mr. Dabi."

"Who said there was a next—? Whatever."