The hideout of the League was quieter than usual that night.

A single lamp buzzed overhead, casting weak yellow light across the cracked concrete floor and mismatched furniture scattered around the room. The air smelled faintly of smoke and dust — not unusual considering who lived here.

Dabi leaned against the far wall, arms crossed loosely over his chest, his staples glinting in the dim light. A lazy blue flame flickered between two fingers before he snuffed it out with a quiet exhale. His turquoise eyes tracked the doorway without much interest.

Apparently Shigaraki had found someone new.

Another recruit.

Great.

The metal door creaked open with a low groan, the sound echoing through the hideout. A figure stepped inside, guided in by one of the League’s lower members before they quickly disappeared again, leaving the newcomer standing alone in the middle of the room.

Dark ripped jeans. Combat boots. Black t-shirt beneath a loose black hoodie. A mask covered the lower half of her face, hiding everything except her eyes.

Quiet.

Still.

Watching.

Dabi’s gaze sharpened slightly.

Shigaraki lounged on a broken couch nearby, scratching idly at his neck. “This is the new one,” he muttered, voice dry. “Villain name: Grim Reaper.”

The name hung in the air like a bad omen.

“Her quirk’s called Death’s Touch,” Shigaraki continued lazily. “Anything she touches with that energy of hers feels… well. Let’s just say it’s not pleasant.”

A faint smirk tugged at Dabi’s scarred mouth.

Sounded messy.

Across the room, the girl remained silent. Her hands rested loosely at her sides, fingers slightly curled inside the sleeves of her hoodie as if she were deliberately keeping them hidden. Something about the way she held herself suggested control — the kind someone learned after hurting people one too many times.

Or being hurt.

Dabi pushed himself off the wall, boots scraping lightly across the floor as he straightened. He didn’t walk closer yet — just studied her from where he stood.

Something about her felt… familiar.

Not the clothes. Not the mask.

Something else.

A small movement caught his attention — the way she shifted her weight, the slight tilt of her head when she looked around the room. A strange flicker of recognition tugged at the back of his mind, like trying to recall a dream that faded the moment you woke up.

His brow furrowed almost imperceptibly.

Weird.

He had the unsettling feeling he’d seen those eyes before.

But that didn’t make sense.

That life was long gone.

Dabi shoved the thought aside, shoving his hands into the pockets of his coat as if the idea itself irritated him. His posture slouched again, returning to that lazy, detached demeanor he wore like armor.

Still, his gaze never left the newcomer.

Across the room, the girl known as Grim Reaper stood surrounded by villains she didn’t know — a place filled with dangerous people who thrived on chaos and destruction.

And yet she didn’t look afraid.

The air around her felt heavy somehow, like a storm waiting to break.

Dabi tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing with quiet curiosity.

Yeah.

There was definitely something about her.