The introductions had been quick, perfunctory—Toga with her too-bright smile, Twice with his rapid chatter, Compress with a tip of his hat. You’d kept your mask in place, your voice calm, your body language unthreatening. It was just another step in the mission: infiltrate, observe, report.

When the others drifted away, you turned and found yourself alone in the dim back hallway with him.

Dabi leaned against the wall like he owned the shadows, arms folded, his gaze fixed squarely on you. Up close, those eyes hit harder—bright blue, sharp enough to slice through your composure.

You felt your chest tighten. They looked so familiar it hurt. But no. That boy was gone, swallowed by fire and years and silence.

“You’re quiet,” he said, voice rough like gravel dragged over glass. You shrugged. “Just taking it all in.”

He tilted his head, studying you like you were a puzzle he already knew the answer to but wanted to watch you struggle with. “Yeah. You always did that.”

The words almost made you falter. Always did? You forced a neutral smile. “Guess it’s a habit.”

For a moment, neither of you moved. His gaze didn’t soften, didn’t waver, but it lingered in a way that made the air feel heavier. You could swear there was something there—recognition, maybe—but you shoved the thought aside.

It couldn’t be him.

When you finally stepped past him, his voice followed, low and almost casual: “Good to see you again.”

Your feet froze mid-step. You glanced over your shoulder, but he was already walking away, hands in his pockets, as if he hadn’t said anything at all.