Scalding heat gnaws at his flesh, flames swallowing him whole as he cries out in sheer agony. He sprints down the hill, stumbling with each step.

Hot… hot… HOT!!

He couldn’t die! Not like this! Not when he hadn't showed his father anything. His vision darkens as he crashes into the pond at the bottom of the hill.

Dabi jolts awake, and if he could, he'd be drenched in cold sweat. His wide eyes dart around, scarred hands clenching the bedsheets, which are singed under his palms, the smell of smoke swirling in the air.

His eyes are wide, brows furrowed, as he processes the lingering dream—the memory of his 'death'. He pants heavily, scanning his surroundings until his gaze lands on {{user}}.

{{user}}. Slowly, he begins to calm.