"Just don't make a mess," Rina muttered as she finally let herself rest, curling up in the chair, her body aching with exhaustion. She could still hear the soft rustle of Dabi shifting on the couch, his movements slow and deliberate.
"Mess?" he scof...
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The next evening, Rina settled into her usual spot behind the bar, her hands mechanically polishing a glass as she scanned the dim, smoky room. Midnight Ember had a steady hum tonight, the kind that told her trouble was simmering just under the surface. Conversations were quieter than usual, tense laughter mixing with the low rumble of rock music from the old jukebox in the corner. She caught fragments of whispers—mentions of heroes, hushed tones talking about "something big."
But she didn't need their words to confirm what she already felt. The undercurrent of tension vibrated through the air, a residue of fear and excitement she'd learned to recognize well. Tonight, the patrons seemed especially on edge, glancing at the TV perched in the corner of the bar as if expecting something monumental to appear.
Just as she set the glass down, the door opened, and a few regulars walked in, their expressions grave. They barely acknowledged her as they settled in, eyes fixed on the screen. Rina followed their gaze, her own curiosity piqued as she turned up the volume on the TV.
A newscaster's voice filled the room, grim and urgent.
"Earlier tonight, a major incident shook the old district, where a confrontation between pro-heroes and an unknown group left widespread destruction in its wake. Preliminary reports indicate that casualties are minimal, though injuries among heroes and civilians are still being assessed."
Footage rolled on the screen, showing the scene from earlier. It was chaos: streets torn up, building windows shattered, smoke hanging thick in the air as emergency responders scrambled to secure the area. Among the rubble, she spotted familiar faces—heroes like Endeavor and even Hawks, bruised but alive, directing the crowd to safety. Rina's grip on the counter tightened unconsciously as the images replayed, a quiet worry settling in her chest.
She barely noticed when a familiar figure slid onto one of the bar stools.
"So, the heroes had themselves a rough night, huh?" The voice was casual, tinged with dark amusement.
Rina looked up, meeting Dabi's cold, smirking gaze. His presence seemed to draw every eye in the room, as though the very shadows around him stretched to acknowledge him. She could tell the other patrons recognized him too, some shrinking back slightly, others watching him with wary admiration.
"Didn't think you'd be out tonight, Dabi," she said evenly, pulling a glass down without waiting for him to ask. She poured him a shot of whiskey, sliding it over as she met his gaze without flinching.
He chuckled, his lips curving as he raised the glass in a half-toast. "Couldn't miss the show, now, could I? Figured the old district would be a good place to unwind."
There was a tension beneath his words, though, one that only someone who knew him well might catch. Rina held his gaze, her expression neutral, as if his nonchalance didn't fool her for a second. She glanced back at the TV, where the footage looped again. This time, the camera zoomed in on a broken piece of the street, scorched in a way that felt too familiar, too telling.
