Boku No Hero Academia One Shots [Book 2]

Touya Todoroki ღ Dabi

Requested by: Yuki_Amaya

[A/N]: I'M BACK! Probably not for long though - I start university next week, so I'll be hella busy, broke and nervous! I apologise for the lack of content lately...I haven't been able to write <3

Flashback is in italics!

Trigger Warning: Dysphoria

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Martyrdom was a false concept - there would be no salvation after the suffering, no easy adjustment to death, no gateway to paradise...no warmth. Why had it sounded so appealing? And...why hadn't you resisted conscription into this war? Perhaps it was a sense of civic duty, twisted by your loyalty to and admiration for society's heroes?

You were little more than a vigilante!

Sure, your morals were often greying at the edges, and a pact of romance had been formed between yourself and a criminal (dubbed 'malevolent' by those in authority, and therefore also by the hapless little sheep, who relied upon them for protection), but...your power was limited! You hadn't gained entry into any heroics programmes, so your quirk wasn't yet honed to perfection! You were just an ordinary university student, struggling to balance study and illegal (vigilante) activity! The heroes didn't need you as they claimed, right? You already bathed in the waters of betrayal! Your love, your feelings...they were forbidden, spurned by all. Your relationship would never be tolerated, for it was 'toxic', 'sinful', and ultimately, 'a death sentence'.

But...who was so immune to the influence of iniquity, that the right to condemn you was within their power? So what if Freya never granted her blessing? So what if your relationship wasn't conventional? It brought you insurmountable joy, and a reason to fight, even when everything seemed so hopeless! No miserable void had replaced your heart, nor had he cast you into Hel! So what, then...what was the problem?

The flames licked your skin, and like a cobra, they coiled. Your condition worsened by the second, as the upper-hand seemed impossible to gain. Dabi had yet to recognise that the 'fake hero' being charred by his quirk, the one subject to a slow and agonising torture...was his own lover. With your face concealed and your voice distorted, he just couldn't tell. You wondered if he would tear himself apart, when it finally dawned. When the fire burned away your costume, and all that veiled you...how would he contend with the knowledge? With...his thoughts? How would he live out his days, as the nightmarish image of your corpse roamed his mind, at every available hour? You didn't wish such an existence upon him.

But no words could be spoken, as verification of your identity. This was a battlefield! Carnage was all that surrounded you. If you lowered your mask, or pleaded with him...someone else would notice. The opportunity for a hero to strike Dabi might arise, and then...either death or prison would follow.

You refused both. Dabi, for all his immorality, was your saviour. He held no ounce of care for the title, but it still rang true. Toward you, he showed compassion, respect and love. He gave you everything, and not once did he demand recompense. He was gentle! He never overstepped, never tried to cause you discomfort. You had always felt outcast, and he understood. More than most! So although the flames now encased your body, a deadly combination of worry and fear for his fate, illuminated your veins. This world would mourn you for a moment, but him for an eternity. You begged, silently, for his safety. You wanted him to survive - to abandon the League and start over.

As you burned, the tear-jerking memory of your first encounter flashed across your mind.

It was a day far duller than the last. The street-lights flickered overhead, periodically throwing shadows on to the walls. You startled a little with each, ever-uncertain if they were people, or objects. You were paranoid. You were...distraught. A bag swayed on the tips of your fingers, filled to the brim with sanitary products.

But you weren't female.

At least...you didn't feel that way. The items, however mundane, only served to invalidate your sense of identity. It was an ongoing debate, but you couldn't possibly be on the Non-Binary spectrum if your monthly cycle still occurred...right? It was depressing. No-one seemed to understand. The constant chants of "Hey, girl!" and "This is my daughter" were disheartening. The reservoir of hope was depleting very quickly. You walked at a continuous pace, every-so-often risking glances behind your shoulder.

Until you spotted them: a group of four men, who whistled at you from afar. You walked faster, but one had been blessed with a speed-related quirk.

"Hey, where are you going, little Missy?" He asked, sneering from ear-to-ear.

You ignored him, blatantly.

He clicked his tongue. "I was talking to you, whore."

Reluctantly, you replied, "...Can I please get past?"

"What's in the bag? You got money? Drugs?...Something naughty?" Another man questioned, grabbing your arm.

The whole group closed in, pride and hunger swimming amid their eyes. You squeezed yours shut, a stream of tears cascading down your cheeks. You expected to die there. You expected something a million times worse. But...nothing, except the sound of combustion and the smell of burnt flesh. That was a most recognisable mixture - Dabi, a prolific villain. You exchanged a fleeting look - yours of unrestrained gratitude, his of mild confusion. He turned to leave. You made him stay, insisting he be repaid.

How could he say no to you?

All too suddenly, the fire died.

Your face, now disfigured, was on full display. "...(Y/n)?"

"H-Hi..." Weakness permeated your voice, as maintaining breaths grew harder and harder. "...Dabi."

"Stay there. I don't have any...bandages. Shit!" Your body succumbed to gravity, but he rushed to catch you.

Despite your injuries, despite everything...his arms still felt so safe. "I'll be...fine."

"If only I..." His brows furrowed, as anger mounted. "...Damnit!"

A stray tear fell from your eye. "Just - just come home, Dabi. You don't...have to - to do...this."

"I'm sorry." But the time to grieve had passed - or perhaps, it never even began. "I can't ignore this war."

Your vision blurred, but he stood without you. "I-Is it more...important...than me? More important than - than...us?!"

Dabi's fist was clenched tightly, nails digging into what remained of his pale skin. "I loved you. I always did."

"Loved?...Did??" You panicked, but the pain was overwhelming - your limbs refused to listen to a single command. "H-Hang on-"

With relinquished autonomy, little was viable beyond watching your lover slip away - away from the broken and scarred remains of someone he professed to love. Someone he...used to love. And in that moment, as you lay defeated on the battlefield...you prayed for a sleep that would never end.

[Word Count: 1077]