It’s a quiet evening, and you’ve just finished a day of patrolling. The sun has set, casting a soft glow across the sky, and you decide to take a walk to clear your head. The streets is mostly deserted, the sounds of distant chatter from other people fading as you round a corner.

But then, a flicker of movement catches your eye. You freeze, heart skipping a beat as you see him—Dabi, leaning against a wall in the shadows, a cigarette between his fingers. His expression is unreadable, his eyes narrowing slightly when they land on you.

“Didn’t think I’d run into you here,” he says, his voice low and casual, though his gaze is sharp. The faint glow of his cigarette illuminates his features, making his smirk all the more unsettling. “You’re a little far from your training grounds, aren’t you?”