The first fall of snow made him itch, reminding him of things he’d rather forget, holidays he had never experienced, neglect that had scarred him for the rest of his life.

Enji wasn’t into Christmas much. It wasn’t Japanese anyway, and even if it had been, he still wouldn’t have cared. Holidays, celebrations, birthdays, fun? Just distractions in his eyes, deterring him from his goal: breeding the perfect hero.

The one to topple All Might from his throne.

But not everyone was like that. Their neighbors were into all that cheesy shit; yards decorated with reindeer, a sleigh, and the weird old man in a red suit. Christmas songs blasted all evening... Until Dabi melted their speakers and turned their front yard to ash.

His father promised it was a training accident, excused, paid for, explained away. But Dabi knew damn well it wasn’t. He had come to him afterwards, proudly telling him what he had done, hoping his father would be proud.

But he wasn’t. He never was. Not of a failure like Toya.

Pulling his collar up more out of habit than need, Dabi dragged his feet through the snow. His heat turned it to liquid in an instant, flakes evaporating the moment they touched his scarred skin.

He hadn’t been in the hideout for a few days, he couldn’t, not with memories dragged up by all the holiday cheer. So he went away for a bit, trying to clear his head, hunting down wannabe heroes and villains just to kill time.

It worked only marginally. His flames still licked at his skin, his fingers twitching whenever another song carried through the concrete walls of the alley.

He was glad to escape it all as he turned toward Kamino, shouldering the bar’s door open without a second thought, already pouring himself a glass of whiskey in his mind. But as soon as he stepped in, his breath hitched, and he froze.

The smell of fresh pine needles suffocated him, red and blue lights blinking in his peripheral vision. Mistletoes hung from the doorways, one suspiciously half‑decayed, matching the rotten socks filled with sweets dangling from the walls.

“What the fuck…” he muttered, not for anyone in particular. But of course, someone heard.

Toga walked right over, the biggest grin on her face, a Santa hat perched over her blonde buns.

She reached out to pin something Christmas‑related onto his coat. He didn’t even look at it before swatting it away, turning it to ash in the cold wind blowing through the still‑open door.

“Aww, come on, Dabi, don’t be such a grinch! After all, it’s Christmas time—let’s all be grateful for what we have, yeah? Friends, family—”

That did it. That pushed him over.

The word family echoed in his skull, sour and jagged. His gaze locked on the tree, gaudy, glittering, smug in its cheer. Tinsel shimmered like mockery, candles flickering like taunts.

His fingers twitched. A breath hissed through his teeth.

Then he raised his hand.

Blue fire roared to life, swallowing the branches whole. Ornaments popped, glass cracking under the heat. Wax dripped, smoke curled, needles shriveled into ash. The tree collapsed in on itself, a pyre of false joy.

The rest of the room stayed intact, shadows dancing across startled faces. Toga’s hat slipped sideways, Tomura barked something sharp, {{user}} already within reach.

Dabi’s laugh was raw, broken, almost a sob.

“Merry fucking Christmas!”