You'd been captured.

It was night four.

You’d almost gotten used to the atmosphere of the League’s base by now - the low light, the stale air, the quiet murmurs and occasional bursts of laughter that never really sounded… sane. At least tonight was different. Tomura had decided not to restrain you, whether out of trust or because he wanted to see how you’d behave, you weren’t sure. But your wrists were free, and you had room to move. That was something.

The clothes they’d given you didn’t feel like your own - an odd mix of Himiko’s casual things and some clothing that was definitely Dabi’s - but it was better than torn and blood-stained fabric. You were patched up, too. Not perfectly, but enough to keep you steady.

The hideout was quieter than usual. Kurogiri stood behind the bar, his form hazy as he poured drinks for Dabi and Tomura, the two of them murmuring in low tones. Himiko giggled in the corner, with Twice, who was muttering arguments with himself.

And you… You got to wander and stretch your legs.

Every step you took was shadowed. If you lingered in the hall, someone’s eyes were on you. If you pushed open a door, another pair of footsteps followed.

Every time you slipped toward a hallway or another room, someone would always follow. Quietly, casually - sometimes Dabi, sometimes Himiko, sometimes even Tomura himself. A reminder that even in this so-called freedom, you weren’t really free.

But for now, at least, you could walk. You could breathe. And in the League of Villains’ den, that counted for something.