#except cinder bc this was a collab between us

[needlxd-a-blog]

You had known that whichever choice you made, you would ultimately end up hurting someone. It was then a question of who you thought yourself capable of hurting. At least, you had thought so. But then you finally learned the truth about your mother. And in that moment, your choice was made. Taking your winged brother by the hand, you agreed to step into your new life, leaving everything you had ever known behind in favor of something new.

Something in your soul tells you that you should have known. That you should have seen this coming. Everyone leaves. Everyone is hiding something. No one can be trusted. You had been foolish to think she could be any different. She’d been too good at acting from the start. She’d fooled the heroes and the students with the ease of someone with years of acting experience under their belt. Foolish of you to assume she hadn’t been playing the same game with you and everyone else in the League. Still, it was infuriating. To know it had all been a game to her-- the comforts she’d provided to all in the League, the way she had even defended them at every turn. Had those all been lies? Empty words and actions, void of any real meaning? Or had that damned bird, that damnable traitor, corrupted her while he had infiltrated their ranks?

What a cruel child, either way. Dabi figures it’s time he taught her a lesson. That conviction, that raging funeral pyre, called louder for her demise when Compress returned, so very clearly broken and defeated by the finality of her betrayal. If even Compress hadn’t been able to persuade her to return, then perhaps only the fires of hell could absolve her of her sins.

Your encounter with Compress, the man you had always thought of as a father, had been horrible. Your current encounter with Dabi, though, is torture. Quite literally, at that. Flames lick at your skin, leaving painful blisters or searing through skin depending on how quickly you could or couldn’t manage to dodge them. And you’re suddenly reminded of why you could never hope to defeat him in any manner. He can ignite flames without apparent end, whereas your quirk is limited by the amount of iron in your body. To make matters worse, heat worsened your quirk’s abilities. Needles meant to be sharp and deadly become limp steel noodles capable on inflicting exactly zero damage. That leaves you with only the sword sheathed in your umbrella. Certainly you’re an incredibly skilled swordswoman by now, but Dabi has more experience and knows your fighting style more than anyone else. That fact is becoming more and more apparent by the moment.

Endurance is not your ally. You know that, if you want to defeat Kitiara, you have to make it quick. Despite only being around eight years younger than you, she has so much more endurance than you could hope to have. The lucky little brat-- she’d had proper training even before falsely attending UA, and the school had only served to hone her abilities. The openings you had known to be there before ( from those times spent sparring ) are few an far between. She’s quick, too, dodging your blue-hot flames left and right. But she isn’t always fast enough. There are plenty of instances where she burns, but even in that moment of weakness, she’s on guard and doesn’t give you the chance to take advantage of it.

One thing hasn’t changed, though. She’s too focused on one thing at a time for her own good. Doesn’t see the bigger picture. Doesn’t see that the burns you leave on her with your flames are strategically placed.

You’re too foolish to realize his game. Not until you’re collapsed on the ground, knees burnt too horribly to even think about moving your legs. You try to go for your blade, but he’s quicker on his feet than you are flat on your stomach. He swipes it up, and when your hand reaches out to grab hold of him to retaliate, he stabs the blade through, pinning your hand to the ground. It rips a cry of pain from you, one which dies out halfway through due to the disuse of your voice. Tears well up in your eyes, but when your other hand moves to try and free the blade from your flesh, he pins it down with the heel of his boot. Makes a show of digging it down into your hand, grinning at the sickening crunch and the way you writhe in agony. Breathing labored, you struggle to lift your head and glare at him through your tear-blurred vision. You know where this is to end. He’s always threatened you with burning you to ashes, even when you were both on the same side of the fight. Now that you aren’t, there’s nothing stopping him from finally making it a reality.

You say nothing, but the challenge is evident in your eyes.

You leave that deserted alleyway filled with smoke and blue flames by yourself. The screams of the burning girl have long since stopped, but the flames that brought them about still burn. This area is utterly abandoned, so there’s no chance her screams were heard. The smoke, though, would surely attract attention. So you figure it’s time to leave your masterpiece behind and return to the new hideout. But you don’t leave without a sort of trophy. Or rather, two trophies. They’re not for yourself, though. No, you have no use for such things. Instead, you plan to leave her old beloved parasol to Compress, figuring maybe he’d want something to remember her by. Plus, she’d lent it to him several times to serve as a makeshift cane if he lost his own for any reason. Maybe it’d give him something to remind him of better times.

The mask she wore, you save for Hawks. You have it sent to him in all of its singed and soot-covered glory, with nothing else. It’s a warning to the hero and all other traitors, loud and clear.

Never betray Dabi, lest you want to burn.