Shigaraki Child (Broken Family)

the world painted in shades of grey

Chapter Four

The mantle of villainy is not a cloak one stumbles into wearing, but rather a shroud forced upon those whose souls have strayed from the path. This truth is etched deeply into Dabi's marrow, his understanding of the world painted in shades of grey. Heroes and villains - they are merely two sides of the same coin; one tarnished by trials, the other gleaming with an illusion of purity. Every individual has their own narrative, their own reasons for donning masks and choosing sides.

This realization fuels Dabi's resolve, ignites a fire within him that burns as brightly as his hatred for his father. His mission is clear - to bring about his father's downfall. And oh, how he will revel in it! The taste of victory would be sweeter than nectar, each move against his father a symphony played on the strings of retribution. His pleasure would be derived not from cruelty or malice, but from justice served and wrongs righted.

Dabi crept through the darkened alley like a wraith, his footsteps making no sound on the grime-encrusted pavement. The scar tissue twisting his face was illuminated only in flickers by the occasional fitful streetlight. But the fire in his turquoise eyes shone with malevolent intent.

He rapped twice on a rusted metal door. Seconds later, a panel slid open revealing a pair of wary, bloodshot eyes.

"I'm here to see Giran," Dabi growled.

"Boss ain't seeing no one tonight." The eyes narrowed. "You best move along now."

Dabi's lip curled. "You haven't heard? I'm his new partner."

"The hell you say." But uncertainty flickered across the man's grizzled face.

With serpent speed, Dabi reached through the opening, seized the thug by his grubby collar and wrenched him forward. The man's forehead slammed into the unforgiving steel with a dull thud.

"Now, you can open this door and let me pass. Or I can burn it down and step over your smoldering bones. Makes no difference to me." Blue flames sparked to life in Dabi's palm, illuminating the alley in a ghastly glow.

The door creaked open. Dabi released his grip and the man slumped to the ground, moaning.

Giran sat hunched over a scarred desk, wreathed in cigarette smoke. He glanced up as Dabi strode in, but his expression remained impassive.

"I require information on Endeavor," Dabi declared without preamble. "His habits, his weaknesses, his daily routines. Every scrap you can dig up."

Giran took a long drag and blew out a languid stream of smoke. "And what are you offering in return for this...favor?"

Dabi allowed himself a razor-thin smile. This worm thought he could haggle. How quaint.

"Ah, but you misunderstand," Dabi purred, perching himself on the edge of the desk. "I'm not asking."

He leaned in close, voice honeyed venom. "You're going to get me what I need. And in return, I'll let you keep your miserable life. Do we have a deal?"

Giran's eyes darted to the blue flame still dancing in Dabi's hand. He stubbed out his cigarette with a shaking hand.

"I'll get you the intel on Endeavor." His voice emerged as a croak. "Just give me a few days."

"You have two."

As Dabi swept from the room, grim satisfaction kindled in his chest. One step closer. Soon, "father", your legacy will be ashes. Just like me.

Shigaraki entered the dimly lit chamber, his footsteps echoing off the cold stone walls. All for One sat in a high-backed chair, his face obscured by shadow.