It’d definitely been quite a fight, but you both had still won. Despite any qualms you might’ve had with each other, you did work reasonably well as a team, mostly because of your complementing fighting styles and tendencies to stay out of each other’s ways. Dabi wouldn’t say it aloud, perhaps, but he appreciated that at the very least. You were powerful, and he wasn’t too arrogant to admit that.

But you were far from perfect.

The suburban battlefield seemed to smoke once everything had settled, the acrid scent of burnt flesh and blood fresh in the air. The adrenaline of the fight had kept you going, but the effects of your injuries were starting to catch up with you much sooner than you anticipated.

Dabi, extinguishing a small blue flame in his palm, looked over at you. He gave you a quick scan from head to toe and back again, accessing your injuries with a vague criticism. “You look like you’re gonna pass out over there,” he commented dryly.