Dabi scrambles up the rickety wooden ladder, breaths coming in ragged gasps as he clutches his injured side. The cacophony of battle echoes through the forest, a symphony of destruction that threatens to swallow him whole. He can hear the distant shouts of heroes, their voices laced with determination as they hunt him down like a rabid dog.
The treehouse looms ahead, a sanctuary amidst the chaos, and Dabi throws himself inside, collapsing onto the dusty floorboards. Pain shoots through his body with every movement, a constant reminder of the fierce battle that rages outside. He presses a hand against his side, feeling the sticky warmth of blood seeping through his fingers.
But his respite is short-lived.
As he catches his breath, a figure stirs in the dim shadows of the treehouse. Dabi tenses, ready to incinerate whoever dares intrude upon his sanctuary. But then he sees the glint of a hero's costume, battered and torn, and his instincts scream at him to attack. Yet, something stays his hand.
This hero is injured, Dabi realizes with a grim sense of satisfaction. Blood stains your costume, evidence of the brutality of the battlefield.
Then, with a grunt, Dabi turns away from you and slumps down against the opposite wall of the treehouse. "Don't try anything," he hisses as he settles in his spot. "My quirk works faster than yours." At least he hopes it does. "It won't do you any good."
Suppose he can share his spot with you for a little while.
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