Series of colors forming as blurry silhouettes of people you couldn't recognize filled your vision-- the clammed voices uttering conversations you can't comprehend; drowned out by some sort of white noise that serves as a filter. It's as if they don't want you to understand what's going on and yet...

They all feel familiar.

The humble color of green merged with black; the noble heterochromatic eyes; the vigorous spirit emitted from a pair of rubies; the wild indigo hair; the pink clothing that almost seemed magical; the timid yet reassuring smile; the symmetrical burn scars; and lastly, the distinguishable raven hair matched with onyx eyes.

A different form; a different time.

Fluttering your eyes open, you were awoken from one of your many attempted slumbers-- this particular time seemingly sparing you from your usual nightmares; it was a first.

...

Hm... You can't seem to remember what you've dreamed of-following the rumored nature of the more you try to remember your dream, the more you forget about it.

Usually, you ignore the idea of sleep overall, as you do not need it to maintain your non-existent health. The reason why you submitted to it was mainly out of boredom; a good way to kill time, now that your favorite blonde hero was no longer available-curious if all your dreams can only conjure nightmares, which was recently proven false.

You do wonder what made today different for that to be so.

Letting out a sigh, you rose up from your makeshift bed; the damaged mattress's springs groaning from your shift of movement, as did yourself, when your Kill Point ached in protest.

It was still early in the morning, the sun not yet rising; letting the distant city lights, moon and stars serve as your only light. It didn't take long for you to recover from your sleepy state, your glazed eyes scanning your environment for anything unusual.

"Oh... It's you..."

"Killer..."

"Help... Please."

The ghosts of the area roamed around you, with you trying to avoid eye contact, in case they realize you can see them.

Ignore them and they won't bother you, you mentally chanted to yourself. While you can mute their voices, it would still save you the trouble from them constantly blocking your vision if they were to bother you, as you can't, unfortunately, erase them from your sight. It's best to leave them be rather than have them flock all over you with the idea that you can help them, which you can't.

How can you, if you can't even help yourself?

And then a distant 'thud', followed by a grunt caught your attention-- your eyes immediately searching for the source of the noise that does not belong within your daily routine.

Wanting to stay hidden and unnoticed, you let your feet hover above the ground, before lowly floating around to look for the new presence within the area. While you're overly cautious, this isn't exactly the first time something like this has happened.

Once or twice, some rebellious teenagers would trespass within the restricted area to find a place to spend their time in. At one point, some adults. Sometimes they're in groups; sometimes they're alone. No matter their numbers, you can easily scare them off by moving around random objects. However, none of them ever did stray this far before; especially this deep within the Cyclone's Heart.

"Shit..." That hiss was nearby-- somewhere behind the wrecked building.

Slowly, you peered from the structure's debris side, only to see a heavily injured boy, bleeding from his skin's burns-- smoke emitting from his fresh wounds. You bet that if you were to get any nearer, you'd get to smell his cooked flesh.

He tried standing up only to stumble back down, further irritating his wounds to which he, once again, only hissed at with strings of curses. It was obvious that he won't be going anywhere soon.

But to go here of all places piqued your curiosity.

"Oh my, that poor child!"

"Please, someone help him!"

"Miss, do something!"

Rationally speaking, you should leave the stranger be to follow your unbroken rule of not showing yourself to the living unless absolutely necessary (with the exception of buying newspapers from secluded areas), however...

"Dammit, dammit..." The boy started whimpering, before finally crying tears of frustration; his salty tears burning the injury below his eyes that glowed cerulean. He simply just knelt there; unable to get up.

This should count as necessary... right?

To see someone needing help was hard to ignore, despite the responsibilities you laid upon yourself and the consequences that follow if you don't oblige afterwards. Was this the instinct heroes naturally have? Their drive to pursue the careers they chose?

You guessed that even after all this time, your desire to be a hero was still inside you; buried within layers upon layers of shame, guilt, and hopelessness.

After a thoughtful pondering, you made your presence known to the boy, landing back on your feet; making subtle noises to alert him of another person within his vicinity.

"Who's there?!" He immediately wiped away his tears with his palm, then whipped his head towards your direction, the both of you now having clear sights of each other.

Scorch marks; blood-matted white hair that gave the illusion it was red; burnt clothes; and the teary eyes that held obvious signs of pain, fear-shrouded by his fierceness. No matter his condition, it would seem he's ready to defend himself-even to the death.

Your appearance wasn't faring any better either; maybe you looked even worse.

Unwashed (h/c) hair that experiences only monthly bathing; pale skin decorated with unhealed wounds and dirt; blood-soaked clothes that dried years ago; face only filled with the metaphorical expression of death. You looked like a ghost.

"I'm here to help," Your voice managed to croak out; not used to talking other than your weekly meetings with the Symbol of Peace.

"Heh. Yeah? You seem to need your own help more," He snidely replied back, before wincing from his forced chuckle.

"Perhaps. However, I lack the capability to help myself, but it would seem that I possess enough to help you," Your response was calm, sure and patient; somewhat easing the silverette's guard, however, he was still cautious in case it was all a façade.

It was only natural for him to be tense. After all, growing up, the only gentleness and kindness he's familiar with was of his mother's and siblings'.

With his bastard of a father's strictness, he never did get to socialize with people outside of his family other than formal affairs.

You stood by patiently, as you awaited his answer.

He was quiet. Contemplating.

The boy thought long and hard, his sharp eyes scanning you from head to toe. You look frail enough-damaged, battered and looked somewhere his age, he reassured to himself.

He has the advantage with you not knowing his quirk... Then again, he doesn't know your quirk either.

"May I ask for your name?" You broke the unwavering silence, snapping him back from his thoughts, in hopes that a conversation would further ease his mind.

"... Dabi." He used an alias name, you realized.

Good.

The lesser the attachment; the better.

Unbeknownst to you, that was supposedly his hero name the moment his father decided to train him to become a hero.

"Yurei." You thought it was only fair that you gave him something to address you as-it's fake but at least it's something.

"Ghost. Fitting name," Dabi grumbled only to himself, before finally replying to your offer of help. "Fine. You can help, but no police or hospitals."

"That won't be a problem." You reassured, subtly relieved that he won't insist on you bringing him to any public place.

At the very least, now you know why he ended up here.

He didn't want to be found.

~*~*~

"Telekinesis quirk, huh? Convenient," The silverette remarked approvingly, as he made himself comfortable on your makeshift bed, then asked. "But why could've you just lifted me up, instead of ripping the ground under me to carry me?" He pointed at the piece of boulder that once held him placed not too far from your position.

Hunched near the neatly piled wood and used newspapers, you looked at his bandaged figure, quite proud that you know enough first aid and even had collected first aid materials just in case (it was supposed to be for you, but it was before you discovered your body cannot heal).

"Not safe. I could've accidentally crushed you," You simply answered, making his eyes widen at the realization on how actually dangerous your quirk was-his was of no match. He'll die trying to fight you.

He found himself rather lucky that his meeting with you did not end with his early demise.

Trying to light a campfire with your collected flammable materials, you searched for your pack of matches only to find out you had not a single stick left. You reminded yourself to get more tomorrow, along with a few more necessities for the boy who would temporarily be living with you.

"Sorry I can't heat up the can of soup for you. It may not be hot, but at least it isn't expired," You looked at the boy, searching for approval on his bandaged face. With a grunt, Dabi lifted himself up from the mattress before wobbling to your position blindly due to the moon's dim lighting, to which you heavily protested to. "What are you doing? You might-" You were silenced when his pinky finger produced a small blue flame, then lit a part of a newspaper. The cyan fire easily transitioned to the color red, as it spread throughout the rest of the fire fuel-successfully forming a decent campfire.

"You're welcome," Dabi was rather smug of his little fire show, but you did not comment anything about it. At the very least, now you know he has a fire quirk.

Looks like you'd remove matches from your list of needs.

The silverette didn't return to the makeshift bed; and instead opted to sit on the ground next to you.

You let the can of soup hover above the flames, patiently watching for it to boil. For now, the can would be your temporary cooking pan until you find a replacement. It's been years since you last cooked, and this was only reheating.

Dabi only watched the floating object, subtly amazed that you didn't even lift a finger to use your quirk. He was rather curious of your power's limits. It's a quirk, right? It should have a weakness too-like how his flames would burn him if the fire were to stay too long on his skin.

He's just lucky that his scars weren't that severe.

It would seem that today simply was his lucky day.

"Is it just me or is tonight colder?" The teenager tried forming a conversation with your stoic self. It was technically daytime, with the sun having yet to rise. It's four in the morning-a time in a day like any other for Dabi. He was used to the cold; his body temperature being higher than normal. And yet, for some reason, his body heat was failing him to keep himself warm to the point that he needed to be near a source of heat-his fire.

"It's colder here, because the ghosts linger in this particular area." You explained, as if it were a logical fact that can be easily accepted.

The fire-quirk user only scoffed.

"Right. Cyclone's Heart," He humored, but you did not elicit any vocal reaction. If you reacted with a facial expression, he wouldn't have known as he was too busy focusing on the gravity-defying can. Now that there's a better light source to aid his eyesight, he then glanced at you and can finally confirm to himself that your green shirt was indeed coated with dried blood.

He wondered what happened, how long and why you're out here alone.

Were you perhaps just like him?

Now that he thought about it, he's pretty sure he saw your face before. You look familiar.

He wanted to ask, but then, you didn't ask him any personal questions. He didn't exactly have any right to stick his nose in your business. Besides...

He doesn't really expect you to answer.

With your first impression, he could already tell that you were used and preferred to being alone, which certainly begs the question:

"Why did you help me?"

Hm... Why did you?

Pity? Empathy? Instinct?

"It was the right thing to do." You didn't elaborate on your answer; only leaving it at that, but it would seem that Dabi wasn't entirely satisfied with your generic answer, as he continued to press on and stretch the conversation longer-- simply because he had nothing else better to do. And admittedly, he was interested; entertained.

"Think you can play hero?" He teased, trying to change your cold expression into something more readable-- even if it was annoyance or anger.

"A hero is the last thing you'd want to call me." Your face or voice did not break from their nonchalance-- both remained unwavering. Despite what All Might told you last week regarding his offer for you to be an underground hero, you didn't believe that you were fit to be one. And yet, you lacked ill intentions to be a villain.

You were just neutral: avoiding to contribute to both good and evil; opposed to change anything.

You want the world to live on as if Seishin (Y/n) was actually dead.

"What do you mean by that?" Dabi was now more intrigued with your character, however, you only ignored his inquiry, in favor of having him understand his circumstance.

"Your can stay here for a month. Once you're fully healed, you can leave." Dabi didn't protest to your conditions, as he didn't plan to stay permanently anyway.

His silence was his form of compliance, accompanied with the fire's crackling white noise, but it was broken off by his voiced curiosity.

"Why are you here?" After the question, your answer came in as quick as the rest of your responses.

"I have no purpose out there," Again with the simple answers. You really do plan on avoiding any ties with other people; that he bets that you look forward towards the day he'd leave, then you'd wake up and forget about him, like the two of you never met. "What about you?"

Ah, he didn't expect a question back.

"To redefine a title." He was purposefully being vague, because if you were against his ideals, you'd make a pretty difficult enemy to take down-- especially with his given state. He was glad you didn't force him to elaborate.

You only hummed in acknowledgement, thankfully.

"Before I forget, I want to make one thing clear," You started, as the silverette stared back at the flying can, listening. "Once you leave, I'd like to ask you to keep my existence a secret." Looking at him for confirmation, you awaited his response, slightly unsure of what to do if he were to decline your request.

"Only if you'd do the same for me."

It was then you remembered that he doesn't want to be found either. Like you.

The soup was now boiling by the time he faced you, as you looked at him with a small smile that caught him off-guard.

"Deal."

And true to his word, your life remained the same and undisturbed for the next eight years.

If only you knew of his fate, you would've tried to convince him to stay.

~*~*~

Edit: The photo is drawn by me. It's my perception of what Dabi looked like back then.

Things are now getting interesting because the next chapters would finally reach the canon timeline. Also I double-updated because I wrote this chapter before chapter 4 by mistake because i got confused afghjkl

Dabi's interaction with reader in one month will be shown through flashbacks; so, you gotta wait to meet him again before you can see those memories. His aloof and overly confident personality hasnt been developed yet because he was recently proclaimed "dead". He prolly got his attitude from alleyways and crime experiences. I guess i'll delve into that in the future. Til next time!