Disdain [Dabi x Reader]

I

The vicious criminal foraged around the crisped mountain, eyeing the ashen trees, wasted to a thin, bald bark. The sides of their lips slowly curved upwards, hidden by the mask they wore. They attempted to quell back their delight, but oh, what a beautiful scenery it was. It cried of misery and catastrophe, spoke of its woes, bore the essence of the deceased forest. It was mournful yet so remarkable.

If they had to guess, three hours must've passed, with no sign of life anywhere in sight. They were nearly done searching across the whole radius of the catastrophe, along with the volunteers.

There was clear disdain in their eyes whilst they strolled down the mountain, passing by the other volunteers and firefighters with a low tip of their chin. (Y/n) enjoyed these... performances, namely those that involved flame. The relish of adrenaline causes a wash of ecstasy to plague them, it sends their mind reeling back with fierce delight, with a smile that promises to leave their cheeks sore. 

Despite this, the taste that followed was... bitter. In scarce cases where they got the opportunity to observe the steaming aftermath, a pinch of joy did manage to return.

It was a long way back.

Right down the mountain, was a small wooden cottage sitting alone. Hidden by the thick trees and troublesome route. There was nothing particularly endearing about the small abode. The luscious, green trees surrounding it made the place seem a lot less suffocating. fortunately enough, the high flames hadn't reached this part of the forest.

That was their home.

(Y/n) halted in their tracks upon catching something unfamiliar from the corner of their eyes. Curiously, they peered down at the grassy floor, their eyes widening ever so slightly. A blood trail? Steaming blood? They tilted their head to the side. That's surprising. Not many people pass through this area... on second thought, no one passes through this part of the forest. Their (e/c) pupils brightened as they thought back to the incident.

Was this it? Was this the arsoner?

They followed the trail hurriedly. It took them about 5 minutes to find the person. Their enthusiastic grin slowly faded, replaced with a blank expression.

A boy? An extremely wounded, nude boy? The twitching child was curled on himself, his body charred and distorted. (Y/n) leaned forward, attempting to get a glimpse of his blackened face, and they did. His mouth was wide open, crisped blood clots surrounded his lower jaw, partially because half his lower jaw was literally gone. His eyes were pure white, his pupils rolled back into his head. Smoke danced above him, levitating up into the already polluted sky. (Y/n) wrinkled their nose at the smell of burning flesh. The nausea pricking their throat jabs further at the smell.

"Hhhh... Hhgg..." The distorted figure let out incoherent words, or perhaps they were wheezes? It was breathing, that much they could tell.

'this is the one who brought doom to the mountain?'

(Y/n) stared down, dumbfounded. They had expected something greater than that, such as a built, large figure. They shrugged.

Even if he wasn't the one who created the mesmerizing mess, they felt something, almost instinctual, draw them toward the individual before them. Before they had time to reason with themself, they had already carried the crippled thing home.

|=|

Two weeks had passed since the Sekoto mountain incident, as well as the scorched child's arrival. Throughout the 14 days, (Y/n) ran themselves to exhastion, searching for necessary equipment to treat his injuries, and looking for some way of replacing the boy's missing body parts.

They themselves didn't understand why they were going to such lengths, like rummaging through the black market for body parts of deceased people, for a mere boy they didn't even know the name of, but something in them told them it was necessary.

The sound of polyester crumpling together followed a weighing exhale, the lids of the trashcan falling shut once they removed their foot from the pedal. They glanced at the roll of metal wire, next to it a long, curved needle, one you would see in a medical setting. Dried blood coated the desk, floor, and mattresses. All of which were covered with white plastic, but even then, it would prove a hassle to clean up.

"W-hh-hat...." A weak, hoarse murmur sounded from behind them. (Y/n)'s form grew rigid. Slowly, they turned around, staring at the puzzled and fragile boy. They took the time to admire his new profile, stitch marks lining his jaw, some areas wrapped with tight bandages. The child attempted to lift his head but winced and retreated back onto his pillow. His eyes managed to catch a glimpse of a blood transfusion bag hung by a metal pole, attached to his arm with a long tube. His first thought is that he's in a hospital.

"You shouldn't move, you know. It's a miracle you're even alive." They advised. The boy's pupils dragged to glance at the person, but even that was an agonizing task. The furious stinging across his body racked his head, he felt as if he was being burned alive. His throat was dry, his lips were chapped and peeling. He wanted to grip on the mattress to distract himself from the pain but he knew even that would send a throbbing ache through his figure. Saying that he was in pain was an understatement.

"You shouldn't even be awake right now. Was the opioid expired...?" They mutter to themself, glancing away with a frown. With an unasumed huff, their attention strays back to the helpless child.

(Y/n) softly trekked toward his bed. They crouched at his side, lending a soothing smile."Say, what's your name?"

Air struggled to whizz through his windpipe as he stared at the individual before him. It takes him a beat to respond, cracked lips parting with a quake.

"Tou... ya"