Build Me a Funeral Pyre

Convictions

Dabi silently weaves through the dark streets, keeping his hands tucked in the pockets of his jacket and slouches over to blend in easier with the night life of the city. The smell of strong liquor and cigarette smoke fills the air and he carefully steps around someone passed out on the pavement. He can't do anything to bring any attention to him, not when people can easily recognize him with with his bright red hair.

He stops short, feet scraping against the cement and he looks up to see a well lit store. A small smile flickers over his lips and he heads to the store, knowing that there's a solution to his problem in there.

A wave of cold air greets him as he strolls into the store, the cashier glances up from her phone and shoots him a strained smile- he notes the heavy bags under her eyes and gives her a nod before walking up and down the aisles. His footsteps echo off the tiled floor and he knows he's on a time crunch. With burns covering his body and his clothes in tatters, Dabi wouldn't be surprised if the cashier would call the police on him. He quickens his pace and finds the aisle he was looking for.

He looks over his shoulder and sees that the cashier is fiddling with something behind the counter and turns his back to her. With her distracted, he takes a box of black hair dye and quietly rips it open. Taking out the dye, he shoves it in his jacket pocket and places the empty box back on the shelf. Another look to the cashier, he frowns. She's speaking quickly into a walkie talkie and he takes in a deep breath, closing his eyes and tells himself to calm down.

Somewhere, deeper in the store, he hears footsteps making their way over to him and he takes a step away from the shelves and ducks into another aisle. Circling around an end display, from the corner of his eye he can see the cashier now actively watching him.

As he gets closer to the door, Dabi turns to face the cashier and sneers at her. She pales as he raises a hand to her and he shoots a finger gun at her.

"Bang." He mumbles and backs out of the store, stealing into the cover of the night.

-Four years later-

Dabi watches the man sitting in front of him closely. He props his feet up against the desk and leans his chair back on two legs, taking a long drag of his cigarette. Before him, the man extinguishes his own cigarette and runs his fingers through his grey hair.

"I must admit, I wasn't expecting you to come back so soon Dabi." Dabi scoffs and crosses a foot over an ankle and tilts his head, offering nothing else.

"Right. You've never been one to speak too much. Well, I've got to say; I've got a good one for you today."

"Just cut the shit, Giran. You and I both know that we're just wasting our time here." Dabi finally interrupts him and Giran chuckles darkly, taking his glasses off and polishing them with his shirt.

"One of these days, you're going to piss off the wrong person with that brashness of yours." Dabi blows a cloud of smoke towards Giran and takes his feet off the desk, leaning forward with a raised eyebrow.

"And are you pissed?"

"Hardly." Giran answers, waving his hand lazily in the air. "I've dealt with worse than you."

"Then there's no problem. Mind your business and I'll mind mine." Giran puts his glasses back on and regards Dabi before shaking his head.

"Well you see, it is my business now."

"Oh?" Dabi isn't in the mood to deal with some sort of life lesson from the broker in front of him and rolls the cigarette between his forefinger and thumb. Giran nods and offers him a smile, the gap in his teeth makes Dabi want to roll his eyes.