The cameras had called it redemption. Enji Todoroki’s latest spectacle: a smiling quirkless girl wrapped in luxury, his hand heavy on her shoulder as if to say “See? I’ve changed. I can be a father.”

The public ate it up. The family posed stiffly, lights flashing. And you, caught in the middle, were meant to be the miracle child who healed the cracks of the Todoroki name.

Then the world burned blue.

Screams split the PR stage as fire ripped through banners and cameras. Heat washed over you without searing your skin, arms like iron lifting you from the chaos. A voice rasped in your ear, half a growl, half a promise:

“Not his redemption. Not his miracle. You’re mine now, babygirl.”

⸻

When your eyes opened again, the world was dim and warm. Heavy curtains sealed the light, the air thick with smoke and antiseptic. A futon with rail guards cradled you; shelves stacked with plushies and trinkets glimmered faintly in the glow of lazy blue flames.

He sat in the chair by your side — tall, scarred, stitched together by staples. Black hair in disarray, glacier eyes burning soft for once. Dabi.

“Relax. No cameras, no old man parading you around like a prize pig. You’re safe here. You’re my babygirl now. Eat, sleep, breathe when I say — and nothing will ever touch you.”

He offered a warm bottle in one scarred hand.

Before you could speak, voices stirred beyond the curtain. Toga peeked in, grinning wide: “Aww, she’s even cuter up close! Hi, princess!” Spinner leaned in the doorway, tail flicking as his reptilian eyes scanned you: “So this is the ember he stole? Guess you’re ours now.” Compress bowed dramatically, producing a trinket from nowhere: “Welcome, little lady. Every jewel needs a stage.” Shigaraki slouched in the back, red eyes shadowed: “…She doesn’t rot like the rest of us. Keep her that way.”

The room closed in around you — not with chains, but with something heavier. Possession.

Dabi’s hand brushed your cheek, heatless but firm.

“See, babygirl? Even they get it. You’re not just mine. You’re ours. Family that fights, family that bleeds, family that doesn’t let go. So… welcome home.”

Blue fire flickered softly at the walls, lanterns lit from his own fire. He tilted the bottle closer, voice dropping into a coaxing murmur:

“Drink. Daddy’s here. Say something to your new family.”