Chasing You

Chase Three: Scarred Murder

It wasn't fair. In Dabi's eyes, it wasn't fair. The entirety of the night. All of the positions and strangeness. Tenko's hypnotizing eyes. It wasn't fair. Not once did the guy remove any piece of clothing. Dabi was left fully exposed and Tenko was left with the safety of his garments. It wasn't fair. Not fair at all.

Dabi groaned. He sat up in his measly excuse for a bed. He needed new curtains. His clothes, not in the sloppy blob they had been previously, but instead, they were folded nicely and placed on his dresser. It was just as Tenko said. He wasn't anywhere to be found the morning after.

"That dude is one weird asshole," Dabi stretched. He yawned. He scratched his neck. He was going to wake up. He was going to be productive. But, his bed was just too sexy to pass up. He plopped back down, covering his face with a pillow to block out the sun, and slept for another few hours.

His phone rang. That blasted piece of technology. Didn't the battery die last night? He didn't remember charging it. If he didn't remember charging it, why was it in the charger? Dabi groaned. He grabbed the useless piece of shit and answered without looking at the number. "Who the hell is this?" Dabi growled.

"Dabi, get your sorry ass over to this scene. Your friend showed up again. From the looks of it, he is quite fond of you as well. Maybe it's your lucky day," police officer Shota Aizawa said. Oh. Fuck. "I'll text you the details. Get the hell out of bed."

"You sound like my mother," Dabi yawned. He lazily rolled off of his bed. The hardest part of waking up was leaving his mistress. Once he was out of the bed, standing would be easier. That's the way he does things.

"Bastard," Shota hung up. Of course he did. Dabi stood up, reluctantly, and searched around for some clean clothes. This was a nightmare.

...

The scene of the crime. Or, more importantly, the new information on Dabi's good friend Tomura Shigaraki. A body, in the center of an abandoned building, with his hand cut off and replaced by a plastic one. That was the standard of Mr. Hand Stealer. The difference between this body and all of the others before him were the marks on his skin. Two under the eye, freshly pressed, markings. His neck's skin was fully gone all the way down to the tips of his shoulders.

"Look familiar?" Shota walked over to Dabi. He smoked on a cigarette and rolled his eyes as the forensic team did their magic.

"He replicated my scars for this guy," Dabi stated the obvious thing that Shota had been avoiding.

"It's the first thing about his habitual killing that has changed. What do you think happened to him? Why is he suddenly remembering you?" Shota asked useless questions. It was his hobby.

"To confirm that he is Tomura Shigaraki," Dabi stared at the body. There had to be something else he was missing. Something big. He wouldn't get a good look from all the way over here. He'd have to follow the body back to the coroner's office and get a good look then.

"You already knew that he was Tomura," Shota frowned, breathing out smoke onto Dabi's face. The detective wasn't pleased with that. He gave Shota a standard glare of disapproval.

"There is nothing like the sweet sensation of being proved right," Dabi shrugged. "I need to look at the body fully, tell me when they finish their report. The rest of this scene is useless," Dabi waved and departed. Coming all of this way wasn't worth the time. He did enjoy being thorough in his crime scene searches but he just wasn't in the mood today.

Dabi yawned. He just wanted to sleep. A hand. That plastic hand. The one that covered Tomura's face. Dabi saw it. He saw it in this crowd. Where? Dabi's weary need to sleep vanquished. He searched the crowd forming around the scene. He'd seen it. He'd seen it. He knew he did. There.

He ran out under the crime scene tape and followed. He pushed through the crowd and reached out his arm as far as it could possibly reach. So close to that shoulder, so far. Damnit. More and more people separated him from Tomura. His phone buzzed. He didn't have time to worry about that right now. He had to catch up. His phone buzzed again. Damnit. Guilt was getting to him. He had to answer.

Withheld caller. Who the fuck? He clicked the green answering button of doom and held the phone up to his ear. "Hello, sweetie, you've been chasing me for a while, haven't you?" the voice said. It was altered, different, but Dabi knew who this was.

"Tomu." Why now? Why now of all days was he reaching out to Dabi? Did it take him that long to notice? No, it must be something else. Something obvious. Something Dabi wasn't paying attention to.

"Ding. Ding. And the winner gets a prize. Stop walking, sweetie, I've got a bomb rigged in that hand and I'm not afraid to blow myself up. You wouldn't like that. You have unfinished business with me." He was right. Dabi stopped walking. He stood dead center in the middle of this crowd. Angry glances. Muttered curses.

"Now that we're both on the same page, I'm going to run at full speed," the caller laughed. "I wonder if you'll be able to catch me. I'm not going to go easy on you."

"I'm going to find you, you bastard, and I'm going to throw you in jail right where you belong," Dabi growled.

"I look forward to it, sweetie," there was something of a kissing noise and then the call ended. Dabi stared at his phone, glaring at it, hoping his rage would travel through the phone and reach Tomura. That bitch. He was going to pay.

Dabi had never been so angry in his life. He never once felt an ounce of rage towards Tomura. Now, all of his confusion bottled up within him. Confusion, anger, because Tomura was so close and he couldn't reach him. It wasn't about the scars. It wasn't about the killings. Dabi just wanted to lock the bastard up long enough to have a conversation. That's all. But, that wouldn't happen until he caught him. He had to catch him.