[Open] 🚬 April Flames

[burnitblack]

Who: Dabi & others
What: April Catch-All
When: Various
Where: April

Content Warnings: Scenes and mentions of domestic / child abuse, some body horor and monstrous transformations, violence, adult language, topics of patricide and fratricide

Notes: General and specific starters will be below. Contact under cut.

If you want to hit me up for ideas on prompts or plots, feel free to comment on Dabi's plotting post, hit me up on my contacts – Plurk (StarSeed69) / Discord (StarSeed#3572) – shoot me a PM, or drop an ooc comment down below, and we’ll hash it out. I'm down to write a unique starter for our threads if you prefer.

Comments

[likethelight]

[ You know, honestly... Allen just feels really at peace now, actually. Seeing the beast's form crumble and fall away, consumed by his own purifying, fiery light and revealing the scarred man from before. His body has even stopped hurting.

If anything he just feels a little cold now. The flames have stopped and it feels like he can finally take a cracked breath, but as his knees hit the ground as Dabi drags him down -- something he knows should be agonizing from flesh that's been seared dead but instead just feels numb -- he slumps further. Even if he doesn't fall entirely, and just blinks slightly at realizing he -- they -- have been caught by someone. His vision just seems too blurry and dark to really see. Ah...

Shouto... he's crying...

He tries to piece his thoughts together. It's hard to though, and it doesn't feel like he has the breath or coordination to form words. He tries anyway, trying to key in on one thought. ]

...Touya-- [ His lips are cracked and dry, so is his throat, and it comes out as more of a faint croak. ]

...okay-- ...now? [ He manages to get his eyes open enough and focused to take in Dabi who he's still pinned point-blank to. Enough to see that he has breath, though. Enough to see that he's alive, and Allen breathes out shakily. Relieved. ]

I'm glad... [ It's murmured almost a little dreamily, trailing off as his head falls back and his eyes close, invocation dropping. His cloak winks out of existence like someone cut the light, fading with a faint choral note and shimmering of snowflake-like feathers. And the sword impaling both him and Dabi -- it's consumed in the same sort of cool, fiery white glow for a moment, before the light shrinks and coalesces back in the shape of his left arm. Releasing them -- and leaving them entirely unharmed. Not even a scratch.

He slumps over bonelessly then. Like a broken, black-clad puppet whose strings have been cut.

He's much thinner and smaller like this, a fraction of the volume the cloak and mask masquerade him as. And with the cloak's bindings on his body also vanishing... they reveal how his right side is still pale and glowing. Drenched in his own paleblood, having been coursing from the deep, repeated piercing wounds sustained from Shouto's uncontrolled ice the moment they melted from the extreme heat.

It's puddling on the ground under them. ]

[burnitblack]

[like a turquoise fluorescent light blinking on after years of disuse in a burned up building, dabi's consciousness starts to come back to his mind. senses slowly kicking on one by one. taste of smoke and ash in his mouth. the scent of burning everything invading his nose. someone yelling near his ear. a weight pressing against his chest where he's leaning. and finally the darkness peeling away to a lurid blue glow that pulses and waves with the intense heat all around them.

his name? someone's yelling his name. there's an arm around his chest. or something to that effect. his knees pressed against the ground, far hotter than it should be. what was happening? the last thing he recalls is something glowing green. some sort of brushing sensation, a faint wind... the bug... yeah, that giant butterfly. he burned it. and then everything inside started to come out.

like a tidal wave, the rest of it crashes into him. from the retching of corruption in his chest to the agony of that transformation kicking in. from there, it all goes fuzzy. some mishmash memory of a glowing white kid talking to him and that same glowing white brat clashing with him inside the sea of flames. almost as if he were watching a movie about his own life, but a spectator instead of the driver's seat. it's vague, he can't grab onto anything immediately.

but he hears shouto's voice.

that's the thing that finally plugs dabi's mind back into full contact. sets him into lifting his eyes and actually seeing the world around them. bathed in fire so hot, it's melting into its own ground. that's... not his fire. it's too dark. but the heat and power are incredible; he can tell even in this fucked-up state.

something else pushes through his silent daze, another voice using his name. the villain manages to find where his neck muscles connect with his mind and makes his head turn. enough to where he can slide his eyes to the corner and look around the back of a red-haired head (barely sees the white half) to the person on the other side of shouto's shoulder. for a second, touya doesn't recognize the person. but then his mind (soul?) fills in the answers for him in a fragmented, hazy manner.

watching as the priest finally slumps to the side and falls away from him and his little brother. unaware he'd moments ago been speared through by a huge spiritual sword, dabi's left to watch the scene in front of him with an exhausted, but still callous gaze. this guy had... uh... he'll think about it later. what he does know, is this guy got him back. from what and how are topics future touya will have to parse through and remember.

but he knows he owes this guy that at least... so dabi stays his hand, the instinctive urge to turn him into ash being suppressed. won't kill him, despite the discomfort that rattles through him at the sight.

that explains the burning smell at least, as the heat around them is quickly turning allen's spilled blood into charred blackness, burning up on the ground itself. at least what sections of it aren't on the ice-cooled floor. he won't say anything, merely pushes back from shouto and drops onto his shins to sit on his haunches. gonna... take a breather.]

[swellter]

[ Dying embers blanket the ground with heavy snowflakes, they taste of death, and he chokes on air thick with ash. Lungs burn without fire, and his hands tremble with the knowledge of what’s to come.

Foresight.

Blood runs through his fingers, pale like the moon. It pools beneath them. A silvery river glittering in the moonlight, soaking into the ground, into his clothes. He grasps his wrist with his bloody hand, struggling against himself for a calm that won’t come. His other hand clings to his brother, needing that point of contact. Connection. Tormented by the elation of seeing him safe and sound, while Allen grows fainter with every breath. Death lurks nearby, waiting for the end. He tries to answer but his voice cracks, and he’s forced to nod instead, teeth clenched against the sob clambering up his throat. ]

You—saved him.

[ He swallows past the lump in his throat; voice so very soft. ]

He’s alive… thanks to you.

[ Barely a whisper as he gently holds his wrist, feeling his pulse grow fainter. The cloak shimmers, cracking. So many little fissures render through the curtain of light before it breaks apart into hundreds of shards. They grow faintly in the air, lingering for a moment before fading out of existence, taking the sword of light with it.

Allen slumps down. Touya pushes him away. And the stalemate breaks. ]

Don’t— go!

[ Voice hitching, he shakes him gently. Persistently. Calling out his name. So many times, he loses track. Tears fall, blurring the edges of his vision, heart breaking.

A pitiful sight. ]

[likethelight]

[ Without his invocation to brace and puppet his body anymore, he's like a ragdoll. Without it too, he no longer has any protection beyond the enchantments on his uniform from the sheer heat from inferno of the city square around them, and will start to burn accordingly. Not that it makes any difference anymore. Not that he can even really feel it anymore.

As Shouto shakes him, a small trail of pale smoke, the same moonlight color as his blood, peels off from him and coalesces into the shape of Timcanpy who had stayed inside him during the fight. The little golem barely having even formed properly before he half falls over himself to rush to Allen, landing on his chest in a tumble and insistently trying to shake him awake again as well. Frantic, huge oily tears getting everywhere despite his lack of eyes as small, chubby hands push and knead at Allen's cheek. _{Wake up... wake up...}

-- except he... does. Eyes cracking ever so slightly open, even though his breath is so still it would barely fog a mirror and his lungs too seared to make use of it even if he could. Some spark in there beyond human DNA, beyond the limits of the biological, that doesn't want to quit yet. That can't, not so long as someone is--

... not so long as someone is calling his name like that.

"That's right... The bonds between people are strong. So much so that they're even used to bind the souls of akuma."
"That voice that calls for me, binding me to this world... That call that was--" ]

... [ His eyes flicker across Shouto's face, trying to focus, but it's like someone so tired they keep nodding off while standing. He can't quite do it, although he doesn't have to in order to understand what's happening. And his lips twitch like he's trying to say something.

He might have saved Touya from corruption this time -- but if there's anyone who can save him it's you. Nobody else. Maybe not even anyone, but if there were to be a chance -- it'd have be him. That's good though, because it means there's always hope. But more than anything... ... please don't cry for him. It's okay. And he forgives you, of course he does. It's okay, because he has no regrets.

Just please don't drown in that sadness. Please still remember to smile, because this isn't all sad.

That's what he wants to say. What he wants to say so badly, except his body feels like it's already shut off on him. Like he's far away and sleepy. Shit. Shit.

His right hand twitches; can't move it properly even if he had the strength, it was broken earlier. But his left... By the grace of whatever ancient god it belongs to, he raises it up unsteadily between them. A little awkwardly, but his gaze is calm and hooded, albeit unfocused. He lacks any of the coordination he wants... but he brushes the back of those scarlet fingers lightly against the side of the other boy's face. A little clumsily, but so very gently and with more care and mind than it would seem like he should be able to manage in such a state. Like he means to try and brush some of the tears away, even if the gesture is more symbolic and entirely ineffective.

It's okay. That's what he wants to convey, and he holds onto trying to say that as long as he can. A corner of his mouth curves like he's trying to smile faintly, but he's just too tired to.

This time he doesn't so much slump like someone cut the wires, but after a moment something just... slowly bleeds off him. Something intangible slips away, and the strength goes away not like a sudden blow dealt, but a very gentle easing. Like someone just... finally relaxing. Like they haven't been able to relax in a very, very long time.

Like the light in his eyes gives a final flicker before quietly going out, and a panicked Timcanpy begins sobbing into his neck silently. ]

[burnitblack]

[the fire still burns all around them, not one to go out except for before forced so via smothering of some other element or starving once it's run out of things to consume. dabi remains in place, not yet strong enough to stand up, not even sure he trusts his legs enough to hold him above the ground.

but he's conscious enough to watch the scene in front of him, as shouto holds onto allen. burned and jaded as he is, touya's not unable to see friendship and what it does to people. nor is he unable to see the very clear signs of death coming to collect. stupid hero. had he left all this alone, he wouldn't be in this state. then again, had allen turned away, dabi would still be rampaging around, lost in his own mind and emotions. the longer he stays here, the more those fragmented memories begin to come back and separate themselves. nightmare images from a monster that don't make sense, but deeper memories of a person speaking in his mind. learning about him and trying to make some kind of damn connection with his private thoughts...

for a second, he thinks shouto yelling not to go is meant for him. but instantly after realizes it's for allen. obviously. the priest is the one dying. watching the kid fading away under the burden of his own efforts, touya wonders about the idea of death in this damnable place. someone once said death isn't permanent here... does that excuse the pain shouto feels now?

is this really the first time his little brother's faced death?

allen's eyes crack open and touya's reaction is annoyance immediately. can anything put this damn monster down? but it fades to indifference soon enough when he realizes it's only the faint, stubborn cling to those final moments. he glances towards the creature--probably this guy's omen--that appears. both it and shouto grasp at allen like mourners struggling to hold someone back from those gaping jaws. hn... heroes.

leather and fabric shift as dabi leans to the side, plants a hand, and tugs a leg out from under him to work on standing up. he rises to his feet behind shouto, a shadow cutting into the blue hellscape burning around them. touya meant what he said inside. allen's life is simply one more thing he doesn't care about. the man did what he set out to do. dabi learned a lesson about this place. it cost allen his life and it cost touya some embarrassment. fair enough trade.

head tilted down, eyes lingering on the priest as he passes away in his brother's arms. he's seen this before. one hero cradling another's smoldering body, calling out their name, begging for them to hold on, crying at the futility and how "unfair" it is for a bright and shining hero to be killed by a despicable villain. right. because their lives are so much more important and valuable. because they've been through "so much worse". as if these damn heroes could understand anything the villains went through. dabi slips his hands into his pockets. he wants to leave... but since shouto's here, he'll linger for a while.

maybe do a bit of that big brother thing. clear that "debt" to allen.]

[swellter]

[ The tears fall openly now, one after the other, knowing what comes next. Fearing it. He’s never witnessed death firsthand, and in all his hero training, he was never conditioned for it. Even during his time in Trench, he always managed to escape Death’s notice along with his friends. Midoriya came the closest, corrupting himself to the point of almost falling to beasthood, but he pulled through. He was a wreck then, and he’s far worse now with no idea what to do. All the effort he put into his first aid training and it’s useless. He’s useless, just like he’d been against his brother’s rage.

Death draws near, solidifying in that hand, touching him so very carefully, brushing away the tears that won’t stop falling, while keeping the razor’s edge away from his skin. Sparing him the smallest of cuts while his chest is torn open from self-mutilation... just like Touya. Beautiful blue flames set the world ablaze and in recompense, they consume his flesh. Yet his soul keeps burning brightly, kept alive by his sheer rage. Rage that once embraced him. An attempt on his life. Half-hearted, it left no lasting damage.

Only heartache and memory.

Death cuts the string, and the hand falls.

A broken sob. Hands shaking. Shaking him to wake up. Cracks in his control. An omen, weeping. Lost and left behind. The terror trapped in his chest breaks through along with his ice. A wail of grief to the moonlit sky. It spills in one flagrant exposition of power, blanketing everything in white, smothering the flames.

It doesn’t numb the pain. A fire still flickers deep inside his chest, kept alight by anguish. It feeds his sorrow. Burns him despite the frozen wasteland and a pillar of ice that touches the night at its center: A tomb for the dead.

Chest heaving. His lungs expel the frozen air, laboring to extract oxygen from the low temperatures. Ice creeps up his arms, down his neck, spreading slowly to consume him. He wants it to consume him and snuff out that last shard of pain. The ache inside his chest flickers like candlelight, but he won't ever be able to smother it.

Half-cold. Half-hot. ]

[timplex]

[ Clear your "debt" to him by doing the brotherly thing? Aah, that's fine... a bastard move but that's fine. Allen will accept that, Dabi.

If you save Shouto from himself now like he did you.

Allen might be gone, but a part of him still isn't entirely. And when Shouto's grief explodes from him, Timcanpy -- doesn't panic at what that means, actually. Not outwardly, only turning and staring up at him as the visceral sorrow pours out of him with a wail and whirlwind of ice and white, freezing the entire hellscape into... a deeper one. A cold one. Buried, like it might even bury a golem and freeze him solid if he weren't made of smoke and blood. No, he doesn't flutter into a panic. Doesn't try to headbutt him or get his attention or stop him in any such high energy like he often displays.

He just moves forward over Allen's chest, a small little waddle and, with fat tears still at the corners of his "eyes"... pats him with a small hand. Pats him again harder if he has to, a tiny little slap to try and get his attention. His hand, his knee, his cheek -- whatever is closest in reach. Staring up at him with a clear, impassive expression.

No.

Allen existed because he didn't want people or souls to feel grief, you know. Because there was too much grieving and sadness.

Too sad. No more sad. Enough grief.

You both make him so sad. ]

[burnitblack]

[how ironic would it be for a school that trains child soldiers to have classes about handling death? shouto'd been too young and too distracted to be bothered much when touya died. enough he likely didn't consider the severity of having someone pass away in front of him. and safely locked away in the todoroki estate, only to transition to u.a., he never had to deal with death. on the other hand, dabi remembers the very first person he killed. remembers the first time he saw someone die. two different events, two very different emotions. one of them uncontrollable, leaving him frightened over what he just witness. the other in his control as he glared down at them, breath heavy, face tense, but everything inside racing miles per hour.

which was it this time? did allen die? or did dabi kill him? which one is shouto crying about?

he watches the final embers of the priest's life go out and the hand fall, heat gone, the radiance dark. tch, he can't even take satisfaction in the guy's death. dabi didn't kill him. that fucking monster did. really had no reason to kill him, though it still annoys him just how much of his mind this nosy "hero" saw of him. there's no "told ya" or "good riddance" to be had here. only the presence of his sibling sobbing over some stranger dabi barely knew. bet shouto didn't cry this hard when touya died...

that sudden cracking sound makes him tense up and a second later, everything's swept back in a glacier. dabi swings his arm behind him, leaning back as his other moves to cross in front of him, intending to block himself from getting flash frozen or impaled. all that roaring and crackling blue abruptly blankets in white and the burning village subsides around them. silencing in the darkness and frost of the instant ice age.

touya exhales, breath puffing the frost from his lips as he ignites his quirk. heat bursts out in a fast plume to evaporate the ice and frost coating him. no thanks, little puppet. he's not gonna get glaciated over your mourning. but he isn't leaving yet either, lingering around shouto for a while longer.

he's a bastard. what'd you expect, allen? your death to spark some kindling of brotherly bonding between them and patch up years of damage instantly by some stranger's good wishes? dream on. he's here mostly to make sure the idiot doesn't hurt himself in his grief. half because that's his prerogative. half because if allen comes back, dabi's pretty sure he'd get hell from the annoyance if shouto got hurt at his pyre under his watch. ugh... annoying.

dabi frowns when the golden ball waddles over to shouto and... what's that? pats him? oh, it's trying to comfort him. what a weird-looking omen. did allen make that? that is an omen, right? they stay when their owner dies? shit, he has questions. it's obviously alive. unless it's allen's... soul? trying to stop shouto from doing something. shit, now he doesn't know if it's allen or something else entirely.]

Oy. Didn't someone say the dead come back here?

[swellter]

[ Walls of ice grow inside him, attempting to do the impossible. Numb the pain. The sobs subside as the frost spreads, his lungs unable to keep up with the shaky gasps while trying to breathe under arctic conditions.

He grows quiet, cold, and still. The only movement comes from the frozen teardrops that hit the ice. A few hit Tim, tiny shards of blue shattering on contact. Not that he takes notice. He can't see his approach, his eyes water-logged and freezing over. Nor does he feel that tiny hand that reaches for him. Touching him. Too small. He too cold. He trembles, not from the cold but the hurt. Even Kizu is frozen over, unable to find him in the whiteout of his mind.

He weeps for Allen's passing with no thought to lay blame. Not towards him, who turned his sword against himself. Or he who pelted him with blades of ice. Or Touya, who emerged from the flames. He SAW what happened. His vision showed him his brother's fall and Endeavor's rise. Allen fighting a beast. Blame isn't what's on his mind, only deep-seated grief. One he hadn't felt for his brother's passing. He was too young still to understand what death meant. Too far removed from his siblings to even know what happened.

One day his mother came to him in the house his father built in the middle of the Todoroki estate, away from the main house where his siblings lived. He lived inside the four walls, his training rooms built into the heart of the building. His mother cried and cried, and Shouto cried too. For what, he didn't know. Only that his mother was hurting but not like when his father came and yelled at her. This was different. Lasted for so long, Shouto grew scared. He attached himself to her side far more than usual. Sometime later, the housekeeper came to collect him and put him into new clothes, black with a strip of white. People came. His mother's parents. His siblings ushered to his side. They, too were crying, the younger brother hanging onto his older sister the same way he clung to his mother. Most people cried. Some tried to talk to him and his siblings, but he hid behind his mother. He stayed by her side, little hand clinging to her robe, black like his. Touya's name was brought up a lot, but he couldn't find him. He wanted to meet him. The oldest of the Todoroki's. The one he never got to talk to or meet in person. He was always watching him from afar from his little cage, nose pressed against the window, begging his father if he could - Play with Touya-nii just this once.

Eventually, the mourners left, and his siblings were ushered away by the housekeeper. Their father nowhere in sight, and his mother was exhausted, barely aware. She sat in front of a wooden armoire with incense burning and Touya's picture in the center. By then, he understood that Touya had gone away and that it wasn't a good thing. How could it be? It would be some time later that he'd come to understand that he wasn't coming back, and as time passed, the wooden picture frame inside the armoire - a vigil, his mother called it - was the only thing he remembered of his older brother.

Touya became a picture his family mourned, and Shouto, who had never met his older brother, watched them mourn in silence but could not conjure more than a deep regret without the trappings of loss. Not a word was spoken between them. Kept away from him since infancy, he was too young to feel the loss that haunted his family. Touya became a ghost in his world. The one, his family, would always circumvent referring to him without ever speaking his name. Shouto watched from afar, numb to the loss but aware now that he was older. Touya was a ghost, but Dabi was alive and reaping revenge. He is Touya. The only one he's ever met that wasn't inside a picture frame.

Dabi's voice - Touya's - reaches him through the whiteout. It tugs at him in the white and tries to answer, only it comes out as a hiccuped half-sob, unable to form words. He tries to stop the tears, wipes at his eyes, but they won't stop coming. In his effort, he catches sight of that tiny hand he's too numb to feel, yet not enough to stop the hurt. He reaches for him, tears still falling. Crack, crack, crack. They fall and shatter. ]

[timplex]

[ Frozen tears fall and hit him, not passing through him like smoke, because he doesn't want to avoid being hit by them. Just looking up at Shouto as he continues to grieve, calm and accepting of the tears that hit his face.

-- he also turns and stares at Dabi when the older brother scrutinizes him. Equally impassive, but almost unnervingly so. That stern and calm sort of way Allen could look at you as if to look straight through into your soul? Yeah, his golem has the same ability, even with lacking eyes. Doesn't have to say a word, doesn't have to have a single twitch on his face. Just looking right

through

you.

Expectantly, his tail lashing once like a cat's. And uncannily like he's peering right inside your thoughts.

But Shouto chokes on a sob then, wiping at his tears before he seems to finally notice for Tim and reaches for him, and his attention shifts as he flutters up into his hands without a second thought. He's actually rather soft and warm to hold -- always warm, even in the dead of winter despite looking metallic -- and will press himself against the other boy if held, cheek smushing against him. A few more tears might leak out, but only a few.

He existed to give Allen comfort so that's what he'll do now for him. It's what Allen would have wanted. ]

[burnitblack]

[all this ice and snow and he doesn't feel a thing. dabi holds a hand out in the frozen air, soon playing host to a snowflake fallen from darkness above. never stood a chance. the delicate hexagon melts from crystal to water vanishes into vapor upon the surface of his palm. too hot for the cold weather around him. even the arctic ice fails to draw shivers from his frame.

in the silence, those steady clicks of tears falling to the crystalline surface below keep the time that seems bereft from the world. eternal moments passing one plodding year after another. death. that's what comes from spending too long in the fire. burned up until everything becomes ash and smoke. did he expect a different outcome? a blaze like that doesn't leave survivors... he should know. there's nothing more to be done here. dabi takes his hand back and returns it to his pocket. he should leave.

though the memories of the beast seem more like feeling, fleeting and raw, they've dredged up and overturned things the villain has no desire to dwell on. his past, how good it felt when he thought for a momentary second that his own father had noticed him. look at me. to be told he must've been working hard by some stranger... how else but endeavor telling them? to once again remember how his chest swelled and his little throat tightened in pride knowing the hero of his heroes had complimented touya's efforts to someone else. he noticed me. he really, finally looked at. even if it was only mentally, even a peripheral glance out the corner of his eye.

and then... turquoise eyes drop and loom over the crying boy in front of him. this thing showed up. took it all away. a lie. everything he had been for naught. you're weak. you're a failure. you're not what i wanted. you're a mistake. ice begins to melt around his feet and touya's eyelids slowly fold over the tops and bottoms of his eyes, highlighting the burning depths of his ebony pupils within his irises. darkness that burns swallowing the younger man in front of him. why don't you die too? it'd put you out of your damn misery...

three years passed... he thought something, anything, just one thing might have changed after he died. running through the woods, his bare feet cut by sticks and gravel, not caring that his clothes were tattered around the hems, not caring that he couldn't feel the pain. he had to get home. they all must be so worried about him. father... mother... fuyumi... natsuo... shouto... and he'd said such horrible things to his father before he left. guilt enough to drag bile in his throat. bile which choked back a sob of relief as he came to his house, saw it standing in front of him. nostalgia rushed through his lungs, recharged the sinew in his flesh. i'm home. mom. dad! i'm home!

i'm home... that same orange glow. burning with the the room. that same little figure huddled on the floor. that same towering monster over him, demanding he get up. no sound from his mother. no image of his siblings. nothing but his father training shouto. exactly as it had been. nothing... nothing changed. they moved on. they continued without him. as if he never happened...

failure. mistake. useless. burden. disgusting. his own damn vigil was disgusting. his own face looking back at him from that fucking picture. dead for three years. nothing changed... didja know, shouto... after your death... you can die again.

for all his fire, his eyes remain as hard as ice, looking past his little brother's head towards the ball of gold sitting below. dabi notices it looking at him. not sure "how" it's looking at him without a face or eyes, but it is. tch... it's got the same feeling as that insufferable priest. as if it's staring into him, trying to see through his shields and into his soul. hmph. ah well. that idiot knows what's in there now. he's welcome to go in and die over and over in that furnace and hatred. there's nothing else in there.

water drips from the underside of his boots as dabi steps forward. no need for words. he's moving. crests around shouto's side and stops beside allen's body, the tails of his coat drifting against the backs of his calves. whether or not his brother heard him, he doesn't really care. the tiny gold orb is in shouto's grip now, so it shouldn't get in the way.]

C'mon. There's nothin you can do now but wait.

[blue flames ignite into a soft flurry around touya's hand, casting a glow over the priest in the ice below them. he glances towards his brother.]

Ya wanna add yours? It'd be worse to let him rot out here.

[cremate him here and now. whatever this place does with the dead to bring them back, they can get it started a few seconds faster. besides, there won't be time to cry for the dead in battle.]

[swellter]

[ He cups Tim into his shaky hands, needing something tangible to hold onto. Usually, Kizu took up that role, appearing just for her Sleeper to cling to at times, similar to how his younger self clung to his mother, but she's buried in ice. The leash of freedom she enjoyed - dismissing his requests, doing what she pleased without his input - is a two-way street. The Sleeper and the Omen. Two halves of the same whole. At times, one takes the lead like his ice takes the forefront over his fire. Right now, he's taken over, overwhelming her right when he needs her the most.

So, he clings to Tim. Small and tangible, he presses the little omen to his cheek, needing the physical contact. Soft and warm, his tears stop freezing, mixing with Tim's as they slow. His chest has stopped heaving, but his breaths still stutter, not quite in control of himself.

Oblivious of his brother's thoughts, Shouto remains on the ground, back to him. If he were to attack him, he'd get the perfect shot right now. Unaware of his approach, he jolts when the blue flames cast their light on them. Mind still in disarray, his words don't penetrate right away, and he lifts his head enough to stare up at him.

... Add his?

It'd be worse to let him rot...

It takes him a moment to connect his words to the cobalt flames that melt the frost on his skin. Blue. Stronger than Endeavor's. Than his.

Cremation quirk.

His eyes go wide, and he shakes his head, a slight movement. He tries to talk, but he can't find his voice, so he shakes his head again with a little more force. He can't. He won't. He-- still. Tim's heat is gentler, steady against his cheek. It reminds him of the little omen and he draws the little one far enough away from him to see the tears slipping from unseen eyes, his little mouth pulled down. Wings and tail. Metallic in his composition.

What... do you want?

He tries to get the words out, but he can't find his voice and hopes the little omen will understand.

What do you want to do with...

A few fresh tears appear. They melt against the steady heat of his brother's quirk. The frost covering him is also melting. His skin warming with that single flame, strong enough to turn anything to ash, including a body.

Again, he works the muscle of his throat, mouth opening, forcing a warbled sound that holds none of the sophistication of human speech. He tries again finding purchase on the fourth attempt. ]

What-- do... you... want

[timplex]

[ ...what does Timcanpy want?

He understands it the moment Shouto pulls back and first looks at him with those wide and despairing eyes, understands it when he twists to look back at Dabi and his blue flame and impassive eyes, and Timcanpy himself quails at the realization. Quivering as tears welling anew at the prospect. No, no. You can't make a little golem choose! He's Allen's friend too! His first and only friend for so long! Tim's only real friend even in his existence before! They're a unit! Always a unit! This time he's even of Allen and they're closer than ever! And yet, and yet...

... and yet it's more cruel to make Shouto choose.

The boy's mouth keeps trying to find a way to speak and such a pitiable sort of warble comes out instead that Timcanpy's tears dry up, going quiet as he looks at Shouto struggle. What does he want...?

Like Allen would so often reach out to him to offer some gesture of comfort when he seemed rattled, Tim also reaches out a small hand and lays it against Shouto's cheek -- the left one -- almost like he means to shush him. Once, twice, in a childlike pat-pat that's both affectionate as much as it's also decisive. It's okay, Timcanpy has to be strong so he will. You can borrow from Timcanpy's strength. That's okay. That's why he's here.

You already know that Allen wouldn't mind. The grumpy man is right. He wouldn't want to rot.

It's okay if it's you. ]

[burnitblack]

[if he ever wanted to make his thoughts known to shouto, he would. but those thoughts are extremely well-guarded, asides from the animosity and callousness that usually oozes from the villain's scarred up mouth. it would be easy to attack shouto right now. blast him in the back executioner style. but the drive to do so is very much diminished. not only because endeavor isn't here to witness it, but because it's pointless. shouto would return (he figures) and the effort would be wasted. granted maybe there's something to be said for being able to endlessly murder his replacement...

instead, dabi's lefts standing in a slowly-growing puddle of water as the flames on his hand begin to melt the ice under his feet. heat beating against the side of his legs and coat, pulsing off the fire in slow waves. casting only a single glance to his younger sibling, merely to ensure he heard him, the villain churns the flames in his palm, as if revving up the engine. whether shouto wants to add his own fire or not, dabi doesn't intend to leave allen's body here on the ground. that's not his style of killing people. besides... the annoyance is already half-scorched anyways. legs especially.

no point in leaving a cremation unfinished.

shouto's reaction isn't unexpected. the horror and affront in his eyes, the shake of his head in protest, even silent stumbling over his words. disrespectful, too soon, some unknown reason, whatever he's thinking to say touya shouldn't do what he's planning. thing is, he never asked if shouto wanted him to do it. all he asked was if shouto wanted to add his own flames. the rest wasn't up for debate.

neither shouto nor timcanpy get to choose; dabi's burning this asshole. not gonna carry him to the woods or cemetery for burial. or is that the sea in this place? ... the hell with it.]

Ya both so damn soft.

[he flings his hand out towards the body and the flames abruptly race along his forearm and down his fingers before erupting from the white-hot glowing palm. blue fire, bright and haunting, slam into the icy ground, consuming a space nearby allen's body and quickly twisting upward into a blazing pillar. a proper funeral pyre evaporating the icy landscape around them. no more dark blue flames from the monster before, these hold the same spectral hue of the dead returned to life. shouto's still left to hold allen's body, but all four of them (villain, hero, priest, golem) are now bathed in the heat of dabi's flames. a furnace waiting to accept the body his brother still holds onto.]

Mournin the dead doesn't bring them back. Clock's gonna chime midnight no matter what ya do.

[dabi focuses on the fire.]

The longer ya hold onto him now, the longer it'll take for him to return, Shouto. Might as well be movin forward when the mornin comes.

[swellter]

[ The quivering tears from Tim at the prospect cement his feelings. Even if he has to go against his brother, he can't. It's too cruel to Tim to watch him disappear like that. Nothing about death is supposed to be easy, but it's been less than the span of a few minutes. He pulls the little omen back to his cheek and expels the words brimming in his chest. ]

Don't.

[ His voice is stronger than before. No fault or fissures in the execution. ]

Leave him.

[ They can't do this. He can't do this! He can't let Tim watch that happen. It's too cruel. Too fast. His fingers grip the little golem with more force, finding strength in his tiny form. Please don't cry. ]

Just leave.

[ Please. Let him take care of it. He'll bury him. Find a church and bury him, so Tim can have a place to mourn. Don't you know the dead belong to the living?! They're gone but the pain stays with them. The anger. The grief. The memories belong to them. They're the ones who get left behind. The ones who mourn. They all do it at their own pace, you can't just force them to follow yours! You can't--

A subtle tone of something metallic speaking... the gentle pat, pat, pat of an impossibly tiny hand brings him back, and he startles back from his thoughts, beholding the little omen in a new light. ]

What are you...

[ Saying...? He can hear Tim in his head. Talking. ]

He... wouldn't...

[ Want to rot... He half speaks the words aloud, half thinks them. Something so unexpected as a voice in his head that's not Kizu interrupts the hurt, and he's left reeling with the prospect of a burial pyre. He hardens himself against the instinctual objection. If he's having a hard time with this, then he can't imagine what Tim's feeling, so he gets a hold of himself. Forces back the ache in his chest and stiffly nods. ]

Okay... [ He'll do it, even if it hurts, he'll do it. ] I won't let him--

[ Ya both so damn soft. Dabi cuts him off and ignites the pyre himself.

A sea so intensely blue it sets the icy tomb alight with a flame so fierce it transitions from solid to gas, eradicating the ice to reach the entombed. A quick intake of breath, caught by the beauty of a blue sun that melts the landscape. Shouto is left in awe and pain.

Cloaked in flames so hot they damage him, the eldest Todoroki increases the output, and the youngest finds the courage to let go and do what was asked of him. Gathering the dead into his arms, he rises and with great reluctance he hasn't felt since his training days, he activates his left and adds his red to the furnace. Red like the blood he spilled before the moonlight kissed it. Like the ache in his chest so great, it burns away the whiteout of his mind and Kizu emerges. She moves inside him, bridging the familiar connection. It overflows with empathy as he gives up the body to the blue that reduces it to cinders.

Unburnt, his hands grow light, and the ash slips through his fingers. Well and truly numb, he stops feeling. No more tears. No more sobs. No sound only the taste of ash in his mouth. The body burns, his brother burns, and he's left scorched but unburnt. The body disappears and his vest starts to melt, the instruments in his collar go up in smoke unable to withstand the temperature of those blue flames. Still, he keeps burning and lets the fire consume him. ]

[timplex]

[ Tim doesn't speak; not technically. Not even to Allen. Not in words but, yes, directly to you. He's a very simple creature in that sense; he makes himself known and perfectly understood not through language but through something far more direct. A visceral connection where he can stare at you with that round little face of his and you'd just know. Allen could translate and tell you in full eloquence what Tim is saying always -- now and before -- but it's because of the bond they have.

It's about bonds. Always about bonds. That's how the world they both belong to works.

That's why he's glad he was understood.

When Shouto lifts Allen's body back up, Timcanpy's immediately there. Diving into the flames himself in order to clutch at Allen's chest, burying himself into the wide lapels of his coat as he always liked to do. Omens won't burn, even if the original Timcanpy would have wanted to go with his master.

But this Timcanpy knows. It's not forever, so he's alright with not burning too.

But not everything becomes ash. The uniform coat remains, albeit loose in Shouto's arms now. Though torn where his ice hit it, it was enchanted with blood magic to be fireproof; a weird sort of foresight you can attribute to his being burnt multiple times since fighting the Unsnakely and costing him every favor and drop of blood he could spare over months. And... while even his left arm disintegrates, it's not like ash, and in fact it's the stubborn last part of him that doesn't want to fade, but instead breaking apart like a series of crystalline shards that become light itself with the fire. Going up not like ash, but hexagonal snowflakes in reverse.

Not everything becomes ash, no... Not that coat, Timcanpy... or a small, glowing crystalline object. Resplendent with a white that glimmers with every color of the rainbow, like it's made of light itself solidified into crystal, and humming with a vibrant sort of energy that, if picked up, would sound like faint choral singing inside one's head. And that would have the same pervasive, strangely gentle and cleansing sort of feel and aura to it as Allen's cloak -- the same as Allen himself.

What did you expect? He wasn't fully human. And what isn't fully human... never truly dies. ]

[burnitblack]

[don't, he says. dabi ignores it as you'd ignore a leaf falling from the tree. igniting the flames in an instant and sending the swirling pillar roaring into the air. a furnace opened up and with the burning belly eager to consume the remnants in front of it. does shouto even know what "don't" means right now? has he ever had to deal with a cadaver? what's he going to do, dig a hole and bury it, or wrap him in cloth and shove off into the sea? a tiny innocent puppet doesn't know how to handle the harsh realities of life. this isn't a "choice" being offered. it's how things are going to be. right now.

the dead don't "belong" to anyone. death doesn't change anything. he saw it in his own life. those blue eyes looking at him from the picture on his shrine. never changing. never moving. a household that moved on without him. one more "chore" touya added to their lives. at least it should be easier. his vigil didn't require his mother to half-heartedly attempt to stop it from leaving the house. it didn't burn itself up and earn pity from his two younger siblings. and if shouto ever wanted to replace it, well... he'd have to die now, wouldn't he? his own family left him behind. so why not force this? life's not kind.

and yet, those flames remain away from allen. dabi could've ignited them right on the body below him, torching shouto in the process. but he didn't. instead, he's giving shouto a choice regardless. not really sure why, and he opts not to think much about it right now. allen can either be placed in the flames and consumed, or shouto can pick him up and take him wherever. neither option's difficult. just pick one so he can leave, dammit.

standing by the side, dabi holds his youngest sibling with cold eyes, regardless of the flames dancing around beside him. wiping out the ice nearby and uncovering the destroyed street with debris scattered around from the battle. considering how much allen's bleeding now that the previous flames are no longer around to cauterize the wounds and these new ones are melting the ice that otherwise would've keep his blood inside, it's a wonder how much corruption would bleed into the ground if shouto opted to bury him. isn't this the more optimal choice then?

but finally shouto decides. the body in his arms, he approaches the blue fire. red spills into it, refusing to mix into violent as the brothers' flames spiral within each other. both together latching onto the priest' offered figure as is the natural hunger of fire when given fuel. sees the shadow within the flames, the bulk of the body, almost instantly being consumed, burning away into charred blackened hollow before crumbling as the ash itself sweeps up into the flickering air. the sheer difference in their impassive faces is a dichotomy, one numb without feeling or tears due to the overwhelming sadness... the other unfeeling and dry faced because feelings were incinerated a long time ago.

it's only when the priest's body is gone does dabi yank his hand back and up, cutting off his source of the fire. without the continued feed, it'll cool down into shouto's red flames soon enough. he's not going to reach his "danger" limit of his flames for something as pathetic as a funeral pyre for some stranger. it's enough he didn't torch him right where he lay, but instead gave shouto the choice... annoying. this entire thing has been annoying. from the corruption to the soul dive to a death that could've been avoided if someone weren't so obsessed with playing a damn hero. hmph, that's what you get for sticking your nose in someone else's business.

yet as the flames subside---at least on dabi's part---he's left with the image of that coat remaining in shouto's arms. as well as some strange crystalline object left behind.]

Tch.

[there's clear annoyance in his voice, a click of his tongue and the quiver of a lip in disgust. damn bastard was still stubborn, even after his death he's finding a way to stick around and flaunt his superiority over the "humans" he deigns to wear the disguise of. that or he's someone who has irritating magical items that don't give a shit about fire. dabi brushes a few of those glowing ashes off his shoulder in a dismissive motion. on the one hand, if/when allen returns, that'll help shouto; touya doesn't want to deal with a mopey little brother. on the other hand, he certainly isn't looking forward to having to meet that angelic bastard again.]

C'mon. [again.] Let's get outta here.

1/2

[swellter]

[ No... he doesn't know how to handle the realities of death and how it taints the living. How much blood did he lie in holding onto the remnants of the dead? It seeped into his clothes and skin. Add a splash of guilt, a touch of grief, and the final ingredient: a greenhorn. Fresh and naive. Unaware of how to handle the aftermath of not just his first death, but a friend's at that. One he unwittingly buried a knife into. Personal and up close, the perfect cocktail for corruption.

Maybe that's why he doesn't stop burning.

The blood is gone, turned to ash, but the stain remains. Kizu struggles to keep his thoughts from spiraling but it's the first time corruption's crept this close to his heart and while she tries to root it out Shouto grows numb. He looks down at the heavy thing in his arm. A cloak and a gem he doesn't recognize. Why does it feel so heavy? Why didn't it burn? What happens now? He can't just move on. How is he supposed to move on? Where is he supposed to go? What is he supposed to do? Why is it so cold?!

Losing the internal fight, the snow leopard emerges bursting out of the fire, standing waist high and shimmering gold. She doesn't waste a second and physically tackles her Sleeper to the ground.

Snap out of it! ]

2/2

[swellter]

[ Pain snaps his mind back to the present, gasping at the force of a snow leopard bearing its full weight on him. He grabs at his right shoulder where he hit the ground first, it'll bruise not that the omen cares. She has him pinned to the ground, a growl emanating deep in her throat.

Let go of the fire!

It's an order. Sharp and fiercely realized when it starts to dwindle. The flames licking up his arms flicker for a few seconds before they die out under her demand. Only when they're gone does the heartache return and he reaches not for his quirk but his omen. Grabbing her despite the pain, he latches onto her heavy coat, crying into her shoulder. This is what he needed all along. Someone tangible to hold to, to pour his heart out to. He clings to her and doesn't let go, letting it all out. He'll stay there, clutching at his omen for some time, until those dark thoughts bleed out of his mind, washed away by the flood of tears. He won't succumb to the initial shock and by the time he reaches the sapling, the tranquil aura will root out the rest. ]

and this is where I dip out )o)

[timplex]

[ Timcanpy may not see corruption when it takes root in a person like Allen can, but being an omen, even if it's not his own Sleeper... he rouses from his own quiet grieving the moment he realizes Shouto's fire isn't stopping, even after Dabi cuts his off. And he startles, quickly spiraling up in front of his face and trying to get his attention. Moments away from one really good headbutt or a bite—

But Kizu appears full force, and he dips aside as she tackles the boy to the ground. Watching for a moment as she menaces him into letting go of his fire -- and as he buries his face into her fur and finally lets go. So wingbeats slow, watching that scene unfold with the subdued and quiet patience of a bystander. Good, that's good. She'll be able to reach him better than Tim could. Allen's friend will be alright.

They'll all be alright, even if it hurts.

The golem turns then to look at Dabi until he locks his gaze. With the same kind of quiet intensity as before, but not quite so fierce. Deep and soulful, studying the older brother, but also as if to ask -- and so very subtly imply -- you'll help, won't you? You're also better suited for that than Tim. Allen knew that too.

You owe Allen that.

He whisks away then, spiraling down and snapping up the crystalline fragment left behind by Allen's body with a wide and toothy mouth that splits open suddenly where before he had none. Gulping it down into seemingly-- nowhere? before quickly zipping back up and gaining height. Just like that.

Safekeeping Innocence is something he's done before, and doing so with Allen's is no different. He'll guard it until he reappears in the world and it can find its way back to him and become his left arm again then. Left and right, black and white, "monster" and human; a dual existence in precarious balance to save both. Allen would be nothing without his duality and Tim helps maintain that.

Pausing slightly before he disappears, he looks back one more time to Kizu and Shouto. Catching the eye of the snow leopard if he can and just holding it. One long, measured and important sort of moment, some kind of sober understanding-- and then he's gone. A pinpoint of yellow within seconds as he wings his way towards the Farther Shores. ]

thanks for this emotional wreck!

[burnitblack]

[he would be lying if he hadn't thought about those warnings shouto gave him earlier on. don't touch blood, don't let blood touch you, the world itself will corrupt if blood reaches the surface of the earth. leaking back to his mind as his clarity and sense of self returned. all the while his youngest sibling lost his clarity and self to his grief. with in their firelight, dabi gets to see shouto's expression break under the weight of his sorrow.

wonder what enji would do if he saw his perfect masterpiece wearing such a weak, unheroic expression on his face...

wrapped in his own flames, burning the fire around him over and over. without the blue flames to scorch him further, shouto's left with his own red blaze, the one he's resistant against. what a lucky man. but it's not the fire clinging to his arms and legs that's burning him up. instead, it's the overwhelming waves of sadness his little brother doesn't know how to deal with. first time he's lost a friend, huh. of course he'd be kept so pure. did he cry this hard when touya died? of course not. he'd been too young to know. but perhaps when rei was taken away and institutionalized... yeah, he probably cried real hard when he lost her.

likely got knocked down to the floor because of it, enji roaring at him to dry his tears and focus on becoming stronger without the "distraction" of his insane mother. let that scar on his face remind him of what weakness brings him. fucking monster. dabi still regrets not being able to tear the other half of endeavor's face off.

he's jerked from his thoughts when kizu's appearance abruptly surges action into the ongoing wake. for a second, he tenses, assuming she means to come after him. but instead, she slams into shouto and takes him to the ground. the hell? do these omens go rampant too? the briefest of flames flash around one finger before dabi brushes it off. not his problem. the cat's shouto's issue. it's not long before the real reason for that impact makes itself known and his eyes wander the diminishing flames. before he grabs onto her coat and buries his face into her fur. weeping in a way touya can barely recall. how long's it been since he'd even been able to cry? what'd been the reason for it? almost ten years ago... when touya died.

shards of boiled cobblestone grind beneath his boots, turning away from the bothersome sight and shoving his hands into his pockets. no point in staying here any longer. there's nothing for him to grieve, even if he had the ability to do so. all of that lay far behind him, in front of an altar with a white-haired boy looking out from the black frame. lingering with the dead isn't something he cares to do; he's already lain with walking corpses for a while now. might as well even say he is one. abandoning shouto to his sorrow is easily done.

except for three steps away, he finds himself confronted by that little golden ball, fluttering nearby. no eyes to speak of, and yet it still stares at him. the villain turns his head just enough to look at it from the corner of one eye, his turquoise gaze holding nothing but the same callous contempt from earlier. refusing to let the creature look into his soul, scorched walls and burned brambles thrown up in front of anything remotely visible. yet one or two thoughts still get through.

help him? help my "replacement"? ya fuckin insane.

i don't owe that bastard shit.

cold breeze drifts though the frozen areas of a past-burned land, tugging the tails and lapels of his coat, rustling through hair and bringing the scent of ice and smoke. those muffled sobs reach him from behind. how many times had he gone to natsuo and cried his eyes out? begging him for some sort of comfort to help him get through the night. it wasn't enough to simply have someone say something. a hand touching him. an embrace to go along with the words. the sound of a heartbeat. touya looks over his shoulder at the huddled mess that is his little brother... same one who'd taken care of him on his first day here. from procuring supplies to helping with the staples and blood.]

Che...

[those grinding footsteps continue. backwards. until dabi's once more standing beside the hero. he eyes him from above and finally takes a seat beside him. fine. he'll stay here and be a stupid big brother for a moment. this is a trade. nothing else. it's not like he's repaying allen for anything. watching that golden ball go flying off into the night, he's silent to any words of comfort or softness. instead, left to glare at the unearthed memories and feelings from the experience. but he'll be there whenever shouto finds the strength to pull his face out of his omen.]

[swellter]

[ The powerful but unstable golden child of Enji Todoroki. The one he placed all his bets on the moment Touya ceased to be. Born with every advantage, blessed with a powerful quirk, trained since childhood, and interned with the current Number One. Genetics, power, and money. He had it all, yet still so weak. No wonder Touya hates him. Given every opportunity, what has he done with it? He's still just an amalgamation of his mother and father. Still hasn't made his quirk his own yet. Still relies on his friends. Still so weak. Defeated in the Sports Festival because he couldn't summon enough spirit to keep fighting. Defeated by their Class B rivals from his overreliance on ice and his inability to handle his fire at full force. Defeated by his brother, who didn't kill him but for a whim of a psychotic mind.

He changed his course in life and removed himself from the path that led him to Dabi. Same direction, different son. Enji really knows how to foster great villains. Once he changed course, he lost himself the same way Touya likely did at the start. Young and alone, he walked through fire to survive the places where the forgotten ones are cut up by the strong until they gleam like diamonds. He hasn't faced nearly enough stresses; still brittle, the cuts shear off parts of his heart, and through the cracks, the corruption set in, finding purchase in his inexperience. His only saving grace: he's always been alone. Within the four walls of his little cage built of gold and ivory, no one was there to pick him up off the floor when he reached his limit after his mother was locked away, so he learned to do it himself.

Kizu, blunt and unwavering, remains a physical manifestation of her Sleeper. She lets him take what he needs until the corruption loses its footing enough to let him breathe. He holds her until he's wrung out with nothing left to give or do but pick himself up like he did so many times in that little cage. She disappears in flecks of glimmering gold to hunt down the remnants of the corruption still clinging to the apertures of his mind.

His chest rises steadily once her full weight is gone. No longer held down, he sits up sluggishly, laden with another pain. He doesn't grimace where his shoulder is mottled purple and blue, nor do his eyes linger on his brother. He stares at the ground in front of him, while he shifts his weight back on unsteady legs. Movement was always important; it gave him a goal. One step in front of the other. Back then, it was enough to get him back to his room, devoid of human life, left alone for the night. He stands now to do the same. There's a place he knows where his feet always take him. Another room like his old one just as quiet and barren but for the figure in white and red existing at its center. Almost a year now, he knows how to get to Prufrock on autopilot. No matter how tired he is, his steps lead him there every night. Holding onto a throbbing shoulder that pulses with a pain he understands, Shouto follows old instincts. One step in front of the other. He's always known how to return to that place where ice creeps past the sheets numbing the pain. ]

[burnitblack]

[how's it feel, puppet? to have something you care about taken from you. dabi sits silently by his younger brother, knees up and arms folded across them. mouth resting against the flat of his forearms as his eyes linger on the remaining flickers of flame burning in front of them. everything served to him on a silver platter, the child of the no 1 hero, the boy born with the perfect body and pristine balance of powerful quirks, with both money and formality doled upon him in his social position, all of it squandered by a weak boy beaten down by his father, cowering by his mother, and hiding behind his friend, unable make anything of himself. he calls himself a hero and yet here he is, sobbing and messy over the death of some person. expected to fight in a war when he's only a child unfit to deal with the harshness of that reality. of course touya hates him. this pathetic perfect wretch replaced his very purpose in life. and if something as fucked up and wrecked as little puppet shouto was seen as the prized jewel of success in their family...

just how utterly deplorable and meaningless was touya's existence?

because of you, i never should've been. what you had and enjoyed should've been mine. everything you were given was taken from me. you ate the fat of our family and i didn't even get to lick the plate after you. fuming in envy and burning in jealousy. he'd desperately tried to do anything that would set himself apart from shouto, to show their father that there was still something, even a tiny scrap, that touya could do that shouto couldn't. only one simple thing he begged to have for himself so enji would acknowledge touya's creation wasn't a mistake. that touya wasn't a failure. such a miserable life... he saw death on the streets, he caused plenty of them right in front of himself. the first time he'd witnessed it had terrified him, and the first time he caused it had both gutted him and elated him simultaneously. it was nothing more than another facet of his life. no different than the pain of his burned body, no different than sleeping alone in abandoned buildings, no different than leaving behind a family who had long since left him behind.

yes, he hated him. hated that quivering ball on the floor amid the flames as their father towered over him and angrily roared at shouto to stand up. hated him for being so weak he couldn't be what enji wanted. hated him for being so pathetic he couldn't stand up and defend himself. hated him for being born into a life he never should've had... hated him for succeeding where touya couldn't. they took two different paths, seeds sown by the same hand. all of those thoughts finally breaking free as movement occurs beside him. kizu standing and leaving shouto alone before vanishing, likely to return inside where she can be of more help.

as shouto stands up, dabi pushes himself to his feet, boots scraping at the wet ground amid the icy landscape. for all the damage allen and shouto endured, he escaped with little physical trauma. mental was another story. and yet, as he watches his brother move, one staggering, zombie-like step at a time, those memories come back. a child forced to bear the weight touya could not. it wasn't fair to him; shouto had no choice over the blood in his veins or the quirk in his body. it wasn't his fault for being born. even in his insanity, touya knew that. didn't stop him from blaming him. but... one step after another. allen's final "words" to him linger in the villain's mind.]

Tsk.

[rgggh. head rolling on his neck, shoulders dropping, wrestling with himself for one last moment before he moves forward. fine. a hand claps onto shouto's less-injured shoulder, squeezing once in a manner to attempt to wrench his attention out of his dazed stupor and bring him back to reality. in time for a dark figure to move past him, tails of his coat brushing against the younger hero's lower legs. just this once. his hand swivels on shouto's shoulder, transitioning from a catch to hold him back to a hold to push him still. keeping him from going forward as touya walks in front of him. not to leave him, but to take a knee in front of his brother with his back facing him. he lets go of shouto's shoulder so he can drop his arms by his sides, reaching behind him and cupping his scarred limbs to form a harness.]

Get on. I'll carry you. [and knowing his brother probably has no fucking idea what's being offered, he motions with his waiting fingers.] Put your legs through my arms, around my sides, and your arms over my shoulders. Then hold on.

[swellter]

[ One step, another. A third. Steady, coordinated, albeit slow. Enough to fool someone at a distance into thinking he was just another late-night straggler making their way through the streets of Trench. Where he goes doesn't matter, only that he moves and keeps on moving just like back then.

People can get used to anything. Empty hallways, burning rooms. The pain of being struck by the blunt end of a heavy weapon. Get up, Shouto! Trembling uncoordinated limbs moved to his demands with the only recourse left to him: Defiance. Only the strings remained intact, suffocating him until tried to burn them off and when that didn't work, he let winter take over.

His lungs cope with the cold churning inside him. His right side generates it and the heart pumps it; circulating the cold blood through his body. His temperature starts to drop, degree by degree, numbing the pain until a weight on his shoulder holds him back, preventing him from leaving. Hooded eyes land on a figure in black with scorched skin and teal eyes. He maneuvers him like a marionette, another puppeteer.

His skin is cold to the touch absent the heat that drives the living to action. Maybe that's why he makes no attempt to pull away. It's only when Touya does the improbable that the lights start to flicker behind heavy-set eyes. He stares. Heart numb, thoughts slow. Mouth open as if to stay something only no sound comes out.

Get on. I'll carry you.

Stunned, he's left guessing, unable to comprehend the stage he's been set upon this time. There's no script, no way to know what he's after until Touya takes it upon himself to start narrating his movements. Hesitant, he follows the pull of those strings, unable to turn down the burnt olive branch. Standing amid the blackened landscape caught in a winter storm, he takes it; open-handed and without restriction. He starts moving, following the tug at his heart and climbs ontop of his brother. Arms wrap around him, vice-like in their grip once they've found purchase. ]

[burnitblack]

[it's not a lie to say touya hasn't puppeteered his little brother to some degree. nothing at all like their father had done to him, but what he said to him during the war and how he sicced those villains on endeavor, both of which affected shouto and drove him to action one way or another. things he didn't realize until later but was pleased about regardless.

yet it was never in dabi's mind to control shouto. he wasn't part of the plan in that venue. rather instead a perfect path to hurt endeavor over and over. so many ways he could do it, from eliminating shouto right after he achieved the dream endeavor envisioned or him, to killing him in front of enji during the war. both of which were put on halt thanks to events outside of dabi's control. leaving shouto free to live another day. dance to another set of strings haphazardly tugging on a wrist but never attempting to wrench him one way or another.

even now, as that cold, exhausted body took some time to figure out the directions for how to do this one simple task any sibling in a normal family should be able to know, touya doesn't force him to accept the offering. if shouto kept walking, he would've left it at that. but no, he gets one leg through one scarred arm and another leg through the other one. a weight he's certainly never felt falls upon touya's back and for a second, his brain tells him he just fucked up big time. shouto's basically the same damn height as him and weighs more for obvious (more defined) reasons. and dabi's self-admittedly weaker than most.

but... he's strong in his own ways. cupping his hand under shouto's thighs, bracing one foot against the ground, and accepting that vice-like grip over his shoulders and around his neck, the villain pushes up from the ground, catches himself once, and then straightens up on his legs. has to lean forward a bit to keep his balance and shouto's weight, but he makes it work. that's right... just like in the war, flaming with insane rage and mockery, touya hugged his brother for the first time in his life. now, amid this blackened ground of war and the weight of death behind them, he carries his brother for the first time...

it's a weird feeling, but he walks forward anyways, keeping a steady pace. shouto's freezing body doesn't bother him in the slightest, though touya's own is naturally warm, his quirk ever burning inside him with those blue flames. but he can still feel his breath close to his ear and neck whenever shouto exhales.

tsk... guess it doesn't hurt to act like a big brother once in a burnt moon. especially here.]