A fiery embrace

Sparks and ash

The low hum of the hideout buzzed with quiet conversation and the occasional clink of glass. The smoky air lingered, heavy with the scent of burnt wood, cheap liquor, and danger. Dabi sat slouched on a couch, boots resting on the edge of the scratched coffee table, flipping a lighter between his scarred fingers with lazy disinterest. The blue flame flickered on and off, casting ghostly light over the uneven stitches lining his jaw.

It was just another boring day, but the dull monotony of villainy shifted the moment the door creaked open. Shigaraki stepped in, dragging the familiar scratch of his tattered shoes across the floor. But this time, he wasn't alone. A girl trailed behind him, her presence unexpected—an unfamiliar variable in the chaotic routine of the League of Villains.

"This is Miyumi," Shigaraki said bluntly, not bothering to look at Dabi as he entered. His crimson eyes were sharp under the curtain of disheveled white hair. "She's with us now."

Dabi raised a curious brow, the lighter clicking shut with a metallic snap. His pale blue eyes slid from Shigaraki to the girl standing beside him. She looked calm, though the air around her hinted at tension—like a coiled spring waiting to uncoil. She didn't seem out of place, exactly. There was something about her—an edge of danger that simmered beneath the surface, like she'd seen her fair share of fire and fury.

Dabi smirked, a slow, lopsided grin curling on his stitched lips. "Miyumi, huh?" He tilted his head, voice low and taunting. "So, what did you do to get stuck with this bunch of freaks?"

Miyumi crossed her arms over her chest, not flinching under his gaze. "That's none of your business."

A spark of amusement flickered in Dabi's eyes. Oh, she had some bite. He liked that.

Shigaraki shot Dabi a warning glance. "Don't start."

Dabi ignored him, sitting up straighter and tapping his boot on the table to punctuate his next words. "Come on, Miyumi," he drawled, tasting her name with exaggerated slowness. "You're in the League now. Might as well get used to questions—and smart mouths."

Miyumi gave him a dry look. "I've handled worse."

"Oh, have you now?" Dabi leaned back again, arms spreading lazily along the back of the couch. His grin sharpened. "Guess that means I don't need to go easy on you."

Miyumi held her ground. "I'd be offended if you did."

Dabi let out a low chuckle, and for the first time, it wasn't just his usual sarcastic laugh. There was real interest lurking beneath it, like he'd stumbled upon something worth paying attention to. She had guts.

Shigaraki rolled his eyes, already regretting the introduction. "Just don't annoy her," he muttered under his breath, though with Dabi, that was like asking the wind not to blow.

"Me? Annoy?" Dabi feigned innocence, placing a hand to his chest in mock offense. "I'm a delight." He flicked his gaze back to Miyumi, and his smile grew sly. "Aren't I?"

Miyumi raised a brow, unimpressed. "You're something, that's for sure."

Dabi's grin widened. "I like her. She's got sass."

Miyumi shot back smoothly, "And you've got stitches holding your face together. Coincidence?"

A low whistle escaped Dabi's lips. "Ouch. Feisty and funny. You sure you'll survive in this place, sweetheart?" His tone was half-teasing, half-flirtatious, like he was testing the waters to see how far he could push her.

Miyumi shrugged, her expression cool. "I'll survive. I'm more worried about you."

Dabi gave a mock gasp. "Now she's worried about me. I feel special." He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees as he studied her. "Tell me, Miyumi—are you always this charming, or am I just lucky?"

Shigaraki's dry voice cut in, "Dabi, leave her alone."

"Relax, Tomura," Dabi said with a lazy smirk, waving him off. "Just making conversation. Isn't that what we're supposed to do? Get to know our new teammate?"

Shigaraki pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering something under his breath about Dabi being insufferable.

Miyumi, to her credit, didn't seem fazed by Dabi's playful barbs. Instead, she gave him a pointed look. "I'm not here to play games."

Dabi raised a brow. "Good thing I'm not either. This?" He gestured between them with a flick of his wrist. "This is just me being friendly."

"If this is friendly, I'd hate to see you in a bad mood," Miyumi shot back.

Dabi's grin deepened. "Stick around, and you just might."

There was a beat of silence before Shigaraki sighed. "I already regret bringing you here."

"Hey, you brought her to me, Shigaraki," Dabi teased, a flicker of heat dancing in his eyes. "You knew what would happen."

Miyumi gave Shigaraki a sidelong glance. "Is he always like this?"

Shigaraki's lips twitched in the barest hint of a smirk. "Unfortunately."

Dabi leaned back, propping his feet back on the coffee table with deliberate laziness. "You love it."

"Sure," Shigaraki deadpanned. "I love every second of your personality."

Miyumi couldn't help but crack a small smile at their exchange, which didn't go unnoticed by Dabi. His pale blue eyes flickered with something sharper—like he'd found a little victory in getting even the smallest reaction from her.

"Well, Miyumi," Dabi said, tilting his head with a sly grin. "Welcome to the League. Stick with me, and I'll make sure no one burns you too badly."

Miyumi rolled her eyes. "How generous."

Dabi chuckled, the sound low and rough. "What can I say? I'm a giver."

From that moment on, it was clear that the dynamic between them would be nothing short of a chaotic game. Dabi's teasing, sharp-tongued flirtation had found a worthy opponent in Miyumi, and he was far too entertained to stop. And though his words were laced with sarcasm and mockery, there was an unspoken layer beneath it—a strange sort of protectiveness that lingered in his tone, just subtle enough to hint that maybe, just maybe, he didn't mind having someone else to watch out for.

Shigaraki shook his head, already tired of the banter, but he didn't intervene. If Miyumi could hold her own against Dabi, maybe she was exactly what the League needed. Or maybe, he thought with mild exasperation, she'd just made his life ten times more complicated.

Either way, Dabi was clearly enjoying himself—and, as far as he was concerned, that was a dangerous thing