#multichap fic

It was just about dusk.  Naoto Tachibana had just returned to his apartment, tearing off his suit jacket before hanging it on the coat rack beside the door.  Closing the door behind him, he began to empty his pockets setting his cellphone down on the coffee table in his living room.  

He was getting nowhere with this case.  Ivy hadn’t brought him any viable information on Ran Haitani or Bonten as a whole.  Even though he suspected Haitani to be involved in Kenji Oh’s murder, he had absolutely no way to prove it.  

Attempting to blackmail Y/N L/N didn’t work either.  If anything, it backfired.  Sighing in frustration, Naoto turned his head toward his cell phone, the vibrations from the small device rattling the glass tabletop of the coffee table.  

It was an unknown number; this was normally how Ivy contacted him.    

“Tachibana,” Naoto pressed the phone against his ear and his eyes widened in surprise at the sound of Ivy’s voice.  It was low, she sounded winded, her voice hoarse as she spat out her words hastily.  

“I-I have some good intel on a shipment of narcotics coming in on Saturday,  Bonten is expected to pick them up at the pier in a shipping container.  I have the serial number written down, are you ready?  And be quick about it,”  

Naoto stumbled toward the coat rack, taking a pen out of the chest pocket of his suit jacket along with a small notepad.    

“Go ahead,” he replied,  

“KBCR 068121”  Ivy inhaled, her voice shaking lightly.”  Saturday, 1 AM sharp is the pick up on the east side of the shipment yard, near the security booth… I have to go, I’ll contact you soon,”  

“Wait-”  

The call was disconnected immediately, and Naoto quickly slung his jacket back over his shoulders before stepping back out into the evening.  He was heading back to the office, he had to let Vancouver know about this.    

Sanzu disconnected the call with Naoto on Ivy’s burner before dropping it on the floor and crushing it with the heel of his boot.    

“Great job sis,”  Sanzu smiled big and wide, his perfect teeth fully visible.  “Now that that part is taken care of, you owe us something,”  

Ivy shrank into herself, her jaw tensing as eyes followed Sanzu as he walked behind the chair she was tied to.  Sanzu and Rin had relocated her from Tantra to an abandoned warehouse.  The floors were covered in thick plastic and an old, rusted metal table in the middle of the room with an assortment of tools that she assumed belonged to Sanzu.  

Most of them looked brand new.  Knives, vice grips, a razor, and a couple of syringes still in their sterile packaging.  It was a lot.  Sanzu was the resident torture expert, and she knew exactly what was about to happen to her.    

After the call disconnected, Ivy had long since gone quiet breathing in long drawled breaths to try and calm her shaking nerves.    

It was just her and Sanzu in the room, Rin had stepped out for a smoke. And Ivy’s eyes watched in fear as Sanzu rounded the table before snapping on a pair of latex gloves.  He turned to her with his eyes bright and unassuming while snapping on a facemask.  

“Normally I’d strap you down to the table for this, but I honestly think we’ll be okay if I just sedate you a little,” Rounding the table once more, Sanzu pushed the chair Ivy sat in closer to the metallic table until she was chest level with it.  “It should be pretty quick anyway,”   

Ivy choked on the breath she was inhaling, coughing to clear her airway and whipping her head around to the entrance to see if Rin had returned.  He was still nowhere in sight.    

“What are you going to do to me?” Ivy huffed, teeth grinding heavily against one another.  She was pretending not to be afraid, but yes, she was crazy.  But Sanzu was on a whole different level than she was.    

Sanzu picked up one of the scalpels from the table and began to remove the plastic keeping it sealed, he looked at the doorway for Rin as well ignoring Ivy’s question.    

“Rin, let's go let's get this over with!”  

Rin answered back a moment later sticking his head into the door, he had his burner pressed against his ear.   

“Ran is sticking with his girl tonight, he won’t be able to make it,”  

Sanzu simply shrugged and his free hand knotted itself into the hair of Ivy’s hair located at her nape.  Without any hesitation, he slammed her face first into the metal table, the dull thud of her skull echoing about the empty warehouse.   

Ivy gasped out in pain and shock, her eyes blinking profusely as the pain and tears began to flood her frontal lobe.  The first impact stunned her, but the second one caused her vision to darken and she soon realized that she was lying in a puddle of her own blood against the table.  

Now, barely conscious Sanzu pressed her face against the table so that she was at least a little bit still before the sharpened edge of the scalpel began to slice into the outer edge Bonten tattoo that had been etched behind her ear.  

Ivy screeched in pain in response, her body tensing under the searing pain of the sharpened instrument cutting through her skin.  

“Just keep still, I’m nearly done,” Sanzu responded lazily, his eyes focusing on where her skin split open like molten butter. He was enjoying this, and he was calm about his reaction completely opposite of Ivy whose arms were pulling desperately at the restraints around her arms. “There, easy-peasy"   

Sanzu removed his hand keeping her in place against the table and removed the piece of flesh before tossing it on the table in front of Ivy.  

Ivy reeled back so hard; the old wooden chair flipped backward crumbling underneath her weight. She was screaming at the top of her lungs, her face red, smeared with snot and tears.  

“S-Sanzu, what the fuck did you do?!” she screamed, still tugging at her arms in an attempt to free herself.   

“Sorry, boss's orders, had to remove the ink, don’t worry though, I won’t be the one to kill ya” Sanzu laughed under his breath tugging his flu mask down over his face. “Ran may get that honor,”  

Rin stepped back into the open warehouse, his burner phone still in hand, and began to talk to Sanzu about what? Ivy wasn’t paying attention.  

She was too focused on the stinging pain in her throat, biting her tongue so that she wouldn’t scream any more than she’d need to.  

The chair that she was tied to was now in pieces and Ivy was able to get to her knees quietly enough, before sprinting toward the open exit of the warehouse.   

Rin frowned seeing Ivy moving out of the corner of his eye before he shoved his phone into his pocket.  

“S-shit, she’s getting away!”  

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

It had been a few days since you were locked at home, alone, with one or two cars watching the house. Ran was still irate. You could sense it. And even though you had a scheduled appointment today, it was very obvious that he didn’t want to let you go.   

You were getting an accurate measurement of the baby today and another ultrasound that you assumed Ran would get a kick out of since it had been a while since he had been to any appointments.  

Idly, you searched the waiting room of the doctor's office to see if you could get a glimpse of your “husband”, who had been constantly walking in and out of the building to smoke. He insisted that he wasn’t smoking, but you could definitely smell the lingering odor, no matter how long he stayed outside and sprayed himself over with cologne.  

“Mrs. Haitani, the doctor is ready for you now,” An older nurse popped her head out of a locked door to make eye contact with you, and in response, you looked around the room again. He was still outside. It caused you to sigh in disappointment as you stood up, pulling the hem of your dress back down over your knees.   

“Is something wrong?” the nurse asked, she must have read the gloomy expression on your face.   

Smiling in response you shook your head before walking in her direction.   

“No, everything is fine, I’m ready to go back,”  

The nurse nodded again, pushing the door open wider and stepping aside. Her eyes went past you briefly, her smile widening.   

“Is this Mr. Haitani?”  

Glancing over your shoulder, you nearly jumped out of your skin at how Ran had crept up on you. You didn’t hear him approaching at all.  

He responded before you could, addressing the nurse only, he didn’t even spare you a glance.   

“Yeah, that’s me, are we ready?”  

Your shoulders drooped in dejection at his obvious method of shunning you, it made you feel unwanted and as if he didn’t even want to be here in the first place. Pressing your lips into a thin line you glanced back at the nurse trying to control the tears that you were holding back.  

“Mrs. Haitani?” the nurse asked, a bit of worry in her voice.   

“I’m ready,” you forced a smile, and Ran followed you back to one of the examination rooms.   

At the risk of unnerving your husband any further, you sat quietly in the room while the nurse took your vitals. Blood pressure, temperature, and even a urine sample to run for any abnormalities within your body.  

Ran did the exact same thing, he was deathly silent, and his eyes focused on his phone which was seemingly the most interesting thing in the entire world at that point in time.  

When the nurse finished her workup, she patted you on the shoulder after having lean back on the automated table, reclining it backward, and moving the sonogram machine over so that the specialist would be able to use it when she entered.   

“Alright, the tech will be right in let us know if you need anything!”  

“Thank you,” you breathed, smiling so hard that your cheeks had begun to hurt.  Things were awkward still between you and Ran. And it made you feel sick to your stomach, pretending things were okay and they really weren’t.   

At least they weren’t from your end. All Ran saw was that he was protecting you by shutting you out and keeping you locked up in a tower as if that would simply solve all of your problems.   

You were on the verge of tears, pinching your bottom lip between your teeth to keep it from wobbling and your face twisting into some ugly crybaby face.   

“Ran,” You whispered, hoping to get a word in before the technician came back into the room.  

He looked up from his phone hesitantly, those bright eyes of his widening in surprise when he saw your face. It was scrunched up in an impossibly cute way, tears gathering at your lashline while you tried to contain them.   

He felt bad and was confused as to why you were so upset all of a sudden. (Men am I right?) Leaning forward in the chair he was sitting in, he reached forward his hand swallowing your smaller one in his palm.  

“What’s wrong-”  

The technician knocked and pushed the door open to enter and stopped while only a few steps inside the room. She took a quick look at both of you and quirked a questioning eyebrow.  

“Is... everything ok?” she asked out of the blue.  

Pulling your hand out of Ran’s you quickly wiped at your face to be sure there weren’t any tears visible. The last thing you wanted was for the medical staff to think that there was something else going on.  

“Everything is fine,” you interjected, forcing the fifth smile you had for the entire day.   

Everything was routine, the technician gifted both you and Ran with yet another sonogram photo, one was 3D and the other was classic black at white that had the details of the size of the baby.   

Baby Haitani was measuring a little over 7months, which meant that you were further along than originally anticipated. It would be possibly 2 months before the baby could come, maybe even sooner.   

Your throat tightened while staring at the 3D sonogram, you could see everything. Her little nose, her eyes, there were separate pictures of her toes. It was a little breathtaking to see it all so soon.   

Ran seemed to be rather blown away if you will as he threw his arm over your shoulder staring down at the image. She had his nose, you could see, and although not extremely detailed her face looked as sweet as could be, he was in love.  

“Can’t believe the little bean is actually a baby, I can already tell she looks like you,”   

There was something giddy in his voice as he scrutinized the ultrasound, pulling back to press a kiss to the side of your temple.   

You stopped in mid-stride pressing the sonogram to your chest and giving Ran all of your attention. Things seemed better, for sure. But you still needed to talk, you felt off.  

“Ran... we need to talk when we get home,” you suggested, nibbling on the corner of your bottom lip.   

Ran nodded in agreement urging you to continue moving to the exit, he fished out his cell phone that had started to vibrate in his pocket before he looked at the incoming number that was on the screen.  

“Yeah, I know baby... I’ve been acting like a spoiled brat,” It was Rin calling his cellphone, answering the call pressing it to his ear pressing another kiss to your cheek. “We’ll talk when we get home,”  

You nodded in relief, a faint genuine smile etching its way onto your lips. It seems as if things were slowly starting to return to normal between you and Ran, especially after this doctor's visit. You were grateful he was there today and even more excited to plan for your baby’s arrival. You two hadn’t even thought of any names yet.  

Pushing through the double doors of the private doctor's office, you pulled the sonogram from your bosom to stare at it once more. Ran was still walking behind you, talking to someone over his cell phone. He seemed agitated now, storming through the doors with the phone still against his ear as he nearly screamed into it.  

Hastily he grabbed hold of your arm, pulling you towards the black SUV the two of you rode into the appointment.  

“And when was anyone going to tell me that? She’s been missing for 2 days? There’s no fucking telling where she is!”  

The sound of sporadic gunfire ricocheting off the black SUV and the nearby building caused you to flinch before Ran pushed you down behind one of the open backseat passenger doors.  

You opened your eyes as the sound of gunfire died down, a black vehicle skidding off down the road and out of sight.  

“W-what was that?” you mumbled, your hands unwinding themselves from Ran’s suit jacket to run them over your belly to be sure you weren’t injured. It sounded like it was gunfire, unfortunately, that wasn’t the first time you had heard it.  

Ran didn’t respond immediately but was pressing a number into his phone and waiting for them to pick up on the other end.  

“Are you alright?” Ran asked, his eyes scanning over the front of the hospital to be sure that whoever had fired at the two of you was long gone. It appeared the coast was clear.  

Pressing your hand into a spot on your shoulder you rubbed at it slightly, now aware of a faint stinging now that all of your adrenaline had worn off.   

The grey dress you were wearing was becoming uncomfortably sticky against your skin, the sharp pain pulsing even more as you pulled your hand away. Something was wrong.   

You could hear your heart thundering in your ears once you caught a glimpse of a red substance staining your fingertips.  

“Get someone over to 4th street we're on the side of the maternity ward, someone just unloaded a fucking submachine gun in front of the doctor's office,” Ran stood up reaching down to bring you up with him. “Are you alright?”  

His heart nearly stopped as he stared down at you in shock, your hands covered in what seemed to be your own blood and a pool of the same-colored liquid gathering underneath you from your spot on the sidewalk.  

You appeared to be in shock, your hands grasping at the hem of your dress to see where all of this blood was coming from.   

“R-Ran... what’s going on?”  

He pulls on his seat belt before spotting a pair of sunglasses in the cupholder between you. Throws them on before crossing his arms and responding in a gritty voice, “It’s too fuckin’ bright out here.”

“You’ll get used to it,” your chipper voice responds before pulling out of the correctional facility parking lot. “Have you eaten yet? Is there anything you wanna get before we head home?” Having gone through the process a few times, you already had any essentials he might need at home waiting for the two of you. Toothbrush, toothpaste, shower utilities and a basic wardrobe. Just a few things he might need getting started, and anything else could wait until he adjusted.

“No. And don’t fuckin’ talk to me like I’m a child– or worse, one of your fuckin’ friends. Just take me to your shitty apartment, or else back to jail so I can take a fuckin’ nap.”

You sigh. Turning on your blinkers to drive carefully, switching lanes back home. “Apartment it is.”

It’s a short drive, thankfully. You can’t say his outburst surprised you, not given his circumstances and especially not after having gone over his criminal file as many times as you have. The thing that surprised you, if any, was how determined his family members were at making sure Touya was accepted into the rehabilitation program. Arson, murder, afiliation and deep ties with the former Paranormal Liberation Front. All odds were against him ever seeing the outside of a prison cell for the rest of his life. And yet, here he was. Pouting in your passenger seat on the way to your home.

It’s not a particularly large building, though it gets the job done. There are nicer places in the city, but this was a happy medium between comfort and what former criminals could expect to rent in the future. After pulling up into your assigned parking spot, you and Touya stepped out of the car and into your new lives.

“So, this is it!” You chirp, swinging the door open and letting the former convict inside. “Welcome home!”

It’s probably small, by his family’s standards. The front door opens into the living room. Black velvet couch on one side, decently sized television on the other. There’s a square carpet underneath the couch and coffee table, but the rest of the apartment is dark, hardwood floors.

Across from the front door is a wall entirely covered in plants. Lush and green, floor to ceiling, with an unlit neon sign that says “Welcome Home” in practiced cursive. It’s clear the wall of plants is fake, but you have an assortment of plants all over the apartment. You like to take care of things, he makes a mental note of you. You like for people to feel at ease around you.

“This is the living room,” you smile up at him as you lock the door behind you. “Here’s your key, you can leave it on the hook or take it with you whenever,” placing your own keys on the hook next to his. “This way to the kitchen.”

It’s a narrow entryway nearest the couch. The door dividing the two living spaces is a closet, you show him. Mop, bucket, vacuum, a few hanging jackets. The kitchen is decorated similarly to the living room. A few plants, some on the floor and some hanging, natural light warming the small round table. The cooking space is small, faux granite countertops and white cabinets. Your fridge has magnets, but no pictures. A calendar sits above the trash can with today’s date circled.

“You can help yourself to anything in the fridge. I do grocery shopping on the weekends, but if you have a craving for anything you can let me know or write it down and I’ll pick it up. Plates are over here, cups and utensils,” you go around opening cabinets and drawers, “This is where I keep the coffee. I can show you how to use the coffee maker later, or if you just want me to make it I can do that for you.”

The kitchen is so small that as you move around to go in deeper near the stove, you have to move past Dabi to get back to the dining table. Your arm just gently grazes his body as you move past. You don’t flinch, or hesitate. Don’t falter in your little tour. Dabi turns back before following you out of the kitchen, memorizing where you keep the knives.

“The bathroom’s on the right.” You exit the kitchen and open the first door on the right to reveal a modest bathroom. “I bring everything in with me in a shower caddy or my makeup bag for makeup, but if you wanna set up anything feel free! I would be super messy otherwise, but I want you to feel like this is your home too.” He hasn’t been in your apartment for even 30 minutes and he’s already getting tired of your fake happy voice and the way you look up at him expectantly.

The next door near the bathroom reveals the washer and dryer. One above the other and a little section for towels and more closet storage.

“And this door’s my room,” you smile and pause as the reformed criminal raises an eyebrow. “The door will always be locked while you’re living here. Sorry, it’s nothing against you! Just a safety precaution,” you pause to measure his reaction, but his face remains vacant. “If you ever need anything though, you can always knock or text me and i’ll always be sure to answer. Oh! That reminds me…”

The last unopened door reveals another bedroom. Spacious enough, he assumes, after not having seen the inside of your room, more spacious than a jail cell anyway. It’s mostly empty. King sized bed with generic dark blue sheets. A bedside table and a television across from it. You step in and stride straight for the table, lifting a small white box and handing it out to him. “Here’s your phone,” you chirp. Dabi hesitates.

It’s not his phone, not his real phone anyway. That was long gone and taken up as evidence years ago. It’s a new phone. He eyes the little square cautiously.

“My number as well as your family’s numbers have already been put into it. You won’t have all the same access as most phones do, it’s like a hyper restricted child lock kinda thing, but you can use it for basic calling and texting. The things you google and look up are monitored on here as well, so make sure you’re careful about not looking up anything suspicious.”

Dabi finally takes the phone and looks down at the shiny new screen. The factory settings still set the wallpaper. No passcode yet. He wondered if he’d even be allowed to make one with all the restrictions they’d given him.

“The closet has a few clothes for you to choose from, but we can go shopping whenever you’re ready. Your expense card is in the nightstand, but don’t think that’s an excuse not to find employment ‘cause that’s still part of your contract. And…what else…?” Your finger taps thoughtfully on your bottom lip.

He glares at you while he waits. Slipping his new phone into the pocket of his jeans.

“Well, I guess that’s everything. Do you have any questions for me?” You ask innocently as you look up into him.

You’ve seen Dabi several times in the past. Two interviews, a few mental health screenings. Each time you met again, he looked healthier, you thought. You remember watching the full war on television years ago. His flesh had been so burnt up and destroyed that muscle and bone were showing. It was against all odds that anyone could survive something like that. That anyone would be even remotely normal after something like that.

The staples were gone. Piercings removed too. A form fitting metal bracelet on his left wrist would prevent him from using his quirk, lighting up in warning if he even tried. His skin now was a deep purple. Almost black and deeply scarred. Flesh no longer at risk of falling off now that he hadn’t been able to use his quirk in years, but still far from fully healed. It was an aggressive look. Stark white hair in contrast to his blazingly blue eyes. He looked all the part of criminal and traumatized.

His lips curled into a sardonic smile. “You’re not afraid of me?”

You smiled back. “No, Touya, we’re not strangers y’know.”

He moves forward, tosses the empty white box onto the bed. “You don’t have a desk to hide behind this time, y’know,” he mocked your tone. “No cops to stop me either.” He doesn’t stop until he’s directly in front of you, almost pressed up against your chest. “What’s to stop me from killing you in your sleep?”

His eyes almost seem to glow as he glares down at you. You can feel the pressure of his gaze almost wrapping around your neck.

“Nothing, Touya.” Your breath is light as it comes in response. “I’m here because I want to be. I’m here because you want to be too, even if you’re not ready to admit it yet.”

His frown deepens. Eyes almost taking on a bored expression. “Get out. I’m ready for my nap.”

You call Shouto. It rings three times before he answers. “Oh hey,” you answer happily as you settle onto the couch, “I was about to leave you a voicemail.”

“Is everything okay?” The pro-hero’s voice comes out in alarm.

You shake your head. It’s only natural for him to be cautious. “Everythings fine,” you give him a faux laugh. “I was just calling to let you know he’s officially been picked up and is settling into his new home.”

There’s a long pause on Shouto’s end, and you can only assume it’s a pause of relief. “That’s good.”

“Yes…” you affirm, shifting into a more serious tone, “but today’s the first day of a long journey. There’s going to be some pushback on his end, that’s only natural, but I think for now we can afford to be cautiously optimistic.”

“When can we visit?”

“Mmm, not yet,” you hum. Most families that are still tied to their former criminal visit them in their new home the day they get out. But Touya would be different. He’s more complicated than most, and you’re not about to ruin his chances of reformation by pretending he’s anything but. “A week maybe. We just need to be cautious for now.”

There’s silence on Shouto’s end again, and you can only assume he’s thinking.

“A week then.”

“Yeah, and I’ll let you know if he’s ready sooner,” you respond in your chipper voice again. “He has all your numbers, so don’t be afraid to reach out either. It’s important for him to know that he has a support network.”

“Right,” Shouto responds immediately. “I’ll text him right away.”

“He’s taking a nap right now; he’s gonna be tired for a while as his body goes through its arduous healing process, but even his tiredness will improve once we get things underway, so don’t worry for too long, Shouto.”

“Thank you.” His voice is softer as he says this, relief spilling into his tone. “It hasn’t been easy…”

“Don’t worry,” you try to reassure him, “Today’s the first step in getting your brother back.”

Your association with the pro hero goes as far back as Touya’s, which isn’t very far. A few emails to begin with, then a few desperate phone calls from his siblings. Using any and every connection they had to try to convince you to take their criminal brother in.

You met with Dabi in his orange prison jumpsuit before meeting the others. Best to know who you’re working with before getting sympathetic for the loved ones. But he mostly seemed…damaged. Emotionally and physically tortured. A short conversation from across the metal interrogation table led you to believe that he was not un-savable. He was wilting, and he needed light.

Getting access to his personal files was next, and then you finally agreed to an interview with the remaining Todoroki family.

A few long years in the waiting, endless counseling sessions and various forms of therapy and psychoanalysis for Touya, and he’s peacefully asleep in your spare bedroom now. One minor threat aside, you were eager to see his life improve. And if it didn’t, you were pretty hard to kill anyway.

He’s…not a good roommate.

He slept all day the first few days, which wouldn’t make him a terrible roommate, if he didn’t also insist on lowering the thermostat to near freezing.

The apartment was beyond cold. You had blankets and pillows laid out everywhere, never able to leave your room without a hoodie and sweats. And he was a picky eater.

Doesn’t cook. Doesn’t clean. But also doesn’t like the way you do those things. No fish in the house. Don’t buy chemicals with that scent. Wash his blankets and pillows every two days. Worse than a high maintenance cat, he was a spoiled brat. You wonder how he made it even a day through prison.

And the more he demanded, the more he nitpicked and prodded, the more confident he seemed to get. Snide remarks and condescending smiles. A little smirk and chuckle whenever he saw you shiver. “Is it too cold for ya, princess?” He’d laugh, waiting for you to finally snap and kick him out. But you held firm. Pouting in your misery with a simple, “no it’s okay, whatever makes you more comfortable.”

But it had to be progress, no matter how irritating. At first Dabi kept to himself, holed up in his room and only surfacing for meals. After about a week of suffering in the cold, he started lingering around the dinner table.

Golden afternoon light shining on the wooden table. Television on in the living room, filling in the silence while you washed dishes with your hair up.

Dabi rasped his scarred fingers against the table with one hand, leaning his cheek on the other while staring out the window. Deep in thought. He could see the tops of trees through the glass. Puffy clouds and cerulean sky.

If he caught you staring, he’d immediately turn his face with a glare. So you made a habit of not looking. Letting him drift whenever his thoughts took him. Despite the inherent loneliness on his face, it was nice to see him getting some sunlight.

“So Touya,” you started, keeping your eyes fixed on the plates in your hands, “You’ve been here a few weeks now, are you doing okay?”

“Don’t ask me stupid questions like you’re trying to be my therapist. We both know you’re severely under qualified.”

You chuckled, the weight of his jabs definitely lessened within a few days of living together. “I’m only asking because we haven’t started your healing sessions yet.”

The air around him bristled. You didn’t look over to measure his reaction, but could feel the tension in him increase.

“Your family hasn’t had their first visit yet either. If you think things are going okay, should we invite them over for dinner?” You wiped your hands on the dish towel and finally turned to face him.

He was still looking out the window. Frowning thoughtfully.

“What does my family have to do with your healing shit?”

An easier question would be what do they not have to do with everything you’re doing for him. “Well, if you’re nervous about it, having our first session with your family around might put you more at ease.”

He scoffed. “Not likely.”

“Then, do you wanna just start today? Rip the bandaid off?”

His fingers paused against the wood. Every muscle in his body tensed. He wanted to tell you off. Tell you hell no and keep your hands to yourself. But a little voice in the back of his mind asked him to think of the possibilities. How much could your healing quirk do? How much of his own quirk could be recovered in the process?

It’s that thought of fire that has him ignoring his instincts. The thought of being strong again that pushes him past his comfort zone.

“Fine. But this better be worth my time.”