Touch of Heat

Chapter 3: Manipulated Flames

Dabi

The night was quiet, a rare lull in the chaos that churned within the city. No heroes crowding the streets, no sirens slicing through the air—just silence, broken only by the distant hum of life far below. I leaned into the cold bite of the wind, its chill a sharp contrast to the warmth of my flames. From the rooftop, the city lights glinted, and yet my thoughts were somewhere else, drifting back to Y/N, to our last encounter and the strange pull she seemed to have over me.

It hadn't been a chance meeting. I'd been watching her long before she even knew my name. She wasn't like the other heroes, those obedient puppets with their canned ideals and empty virtues. There was something else about her—something raw and fiercely independent. Her anger simmered just beneath the surface, barely kept in check by the self-righteous rules of her so-called hero training. It was reckless. Bold. But mostly, it was potential.

She intrigued me more than I cared to admit. More than a pawn, she was an opportunity—a crack in the very system I despised. She believed she could bring about justice in a world as broken as this one. Naïve. Yet one day, she'd see the truth for herself.

The first time I saw her, she was handling some minor hero task—a small, inconsequential event that shouldn't have mattered. Yet, there she was, dutifully obeying orders, her frustration barely concealed. The pros treated her like a tool, barking commands, dismissing her. I watched from the shadows, captivated by the fire in her eyes that burned hotter than she realized. She hated it—the way they used her, but she bit her tongue, forcing herself to stay silent.

That was when I saw it: a part of her wrestling with what she'd been told. She didn't know it yet, but she was closer to breaking than she realized. It was almost amusing, watching her try to hold it all together when it was clear she was already slipping.

That's when I made my decision. I wanted to see how far I could push her, how long she'd cling to her so-called morals. Leaning against the rooftop ledge now, I scanned the streets below, a smirk tugging at my lips. She was probably still dissecting our last encounter, replaying every word, every look. I'd left her with enough questions to keep her busy, and I knew she'd soon feel the weight of them. The doubt I'd planted would start to grow.

Breaking her wouldn't happen overnight. The longer she resisted, the sweeter it would be when she finally crumbled. Heroes are supposed to be pillars of strength, unbreakable, but I knew she'd see through that illusion soon enough.

Somewhere out there, in the heart of the city, that towering hero agency loomed—a symbol of everything wrong with this world. They all thought they stood for something pure, something righteous, but it was just a mask, hiding a system built on lies. Y/N was just the beginning—a single piece in the larger puzzle that would one day come crashing down.

Getting under her skin was intoxicating. I remembered the look in her eyes, the fire that clashed with her loyalty to her hero code. Her defiance, her rage—it stirred something dark and thrilling within me. I wanted to see her pushed to her breaking point, to force her to confront the very ideals she clung to so stubbornly. 

There was a darkness in her, buried but undeniable—a hunger for something more than the hollow ideals she chased. She hadn't seen it yet, but she would. And when she did, I'd be there to watch her surrender to it.

I didn't need to burn her down or fight her into submission. All it would take was a few words, a few well-placed nudges to bring her to the edge. A game, of sorts, where I knew the outcome. There was no greater thrill than watching her balance on the edge, torn between the person she thought she was and the one she was becoming.

It was only a matter of time before she surrendered to the darkness. And when she did, I'd be there to welcome her into it. Together, we'd stand against everything she once believed, two flames raging against a world built on deception and control.

All it would take was a spark. And once she fell, she'd burn just as brightly—and just as fiercely as I did.