The fluorescent lights above flicker faintly, casting a cold sterile glow across the cracked white floor. Wires snake along the walls like veins, pulsing with low voltage. You lie shackled to a steel table, arms stretched tight, the cuffs biting into your wrists. Your breathing is shallow, each inhale bringing in the stench of metal, rust, and something far fouler.

Across from you, a cage rattles softly.

He paces inside, wings low, muscles tense, eyes never leaving your face. The space is just big enough for him to move, but not enough to fly. Chains are wrapped around his ankles, his wrists—anchored to the ground like he’s some beast in a zoo.

Tomura stands nearby, scratching his neck with those jagged nails, watching you like you’re already broken.

Dabi leans against the console, a cruel smirk dancing on his burned lips. The fire behind his gaze makes your skin crawl.

“You brought this one in for him?” Dabi scoffs, nodding toward the cage. “Thought we were done giving him distractions.”

Tomura doesn’t respond. He only steps closer to your table and tilts his head, one hand hovering above your restrained shoulder.

The cage shakes harder.

A warning.

A promise.

He growls your name through clenched teeth, voice raw with fury. “Don’t touch them.”