Chapter Text
The room was dark and silent when a ringing noise broke the peace, lighting with cold colors the messy bed and the man that had been lying on it, now seated and looking around with a confused look after being startled by the insistent sound.
Identifying the source, he picked up his phone, grimacing at the unforgiving shine of the screen. Why was it this dark already? How much time had he spent dozing off since lunch?
Several messages from a bunny emoji greeted him when he unlocked the device, his eyes still heavy with sleep dragging over the words written on it trying to make sense of them.
bunny: yo kei check this out that new circus is in town
bunny: you should go see them
bunny: anyway i got you tickets and ive already sent them to u @ email
bunny: i know you'll love them
bunny: thank me later
Keigo groaned, running a hand through his face and pressing down on his eyes so hard that he saw white circles dancing behind the eyelids. When he let his hand drop it took a few seconds and great effort to focus again and will his fingers to type a reply.
keigo: i dont really feel like it
bunny: too bad i already booked them
bunny: will you be a bad friend and let them be a waste?
bunny: cmon o got you good seats
bunny: i*
keigo: thats playing dirty
bunny: cmon bird boy itll do you good to leave the house
bunny: im not there to drag you out so this is the best i can do
bunny: dont be scared
keigo: fine
keigo: ill go
keigo: just to prove you that im not scared
bunny: yay
bunny: love you
Keigo threw his phone away without checking his emails to see if the tickets were there and flopped back in bed, wondering how the hell was it night already again. He was slowly getting used to the feeling of having wasted yet another day, and the sensation was duller each time, soaked in a weird tint of acceptance. It had been like this for a little over half a year, ever since the skies had failed him.
Or, more accurately maybe, he had been the one to fail the skies, falling out of grace to it's eyes, dooming himself to the ground and the long, repetitive days of sleeping, eating garbage and wasting his time with- well, to be honest, he didn't even know how he had been spending all that time. He wasn't depressed, he just had a lot of time and not much energy or willpower to do anything. It's not like he had any hobbies, besides...
He cut this trail of thought with a grimace, and curled on himself to silence the low grumbling of his stomach. Maybe if he fell asleep again his body would forget it's stupid needs and he wouldn't have to cook or be forced to interact with the delivery guy from whatever takeout place he randomly chose to call again.
Falling asleep was always easy. He emptied his mind (something he had gotten pretty good at over the last few months) and let his body relax against the mattress and settle the slow rythym of breathing that never failed to take him to a world hopefully devoid of dreams.
I'm not scared, he thought as he dozed off again.
Saturday came too fast. Everything was too fast and too slow at the same time nowadays. And he used to love that feeling of simultaneous rush and calm, in a different time, but now he only felt overwhelmed with the rapid approaching of the circus tent, the turbulent waves of people standing in infinite lines, the checking in, the loud squeals of excitement around him, the distress of finding his spot as quick as possible while trying to avoid being pushed and rolling down the stairs.
Finally dropping his ass on his seat, he puffed out a surprised breath.
Rumi wasn't kidding, this were good seats. He looked briefly to his right, to the empty spot left for someone else. Who could Rumi have been expecting him to bring was a mystery. She knew all too well how isolated he was.
He averted his eyes and redirected them to the front, finally taking in the details of the space. The strong tall beams, the semicircular space in the middle, protected by a black curtain. Some ropes hanging from above, probably pulleys and sand weights to pull the curtain and scenery stuff up and down easily.
The murmur of expectation increased around him as the rest of the seats were occupied, mostly by adults and teens. Actually, he thought absent-mindedly, he hadn't seen any children when he was waiting in the entrance line. Wait. Was this one of those erotic spectacles people kept talking about? Rumi wouldn't set him up for that, would she? The tickets hadn't given any clue about that, either. Maybe it was just rated M for language?
The dark gloomy cloth started pulling up slowly, and the levels of excitement around him skyrocketed, infecting him with the giddyness, and he tried to drown the noise around him to focus on the dark silhouette coming into view. There were two stools at their sides, and he was holding two long poles. Juggling, maybe?
He didn't have to keep guessing too much. As soon as the curtain was completely pulled up, a deep bass blared from the speakers scattered around the stands and the two stools beside the figure erupted in flames, burning tall and menacing and illuminating the person between them in a crazed palette of reds and oranges. The man was lean, bare-chested, only dressed in a pair of black baggy pants.
Keigo leaned in with interest as the music filled the space and the man, all pride and confidence, opened his arms, his hands getting closer and closer to the flames. As soon as his outstretched palms touched the fire, it's color turned blue, so beautiful and brilliant that he couldn't help but coo in unison with the rest of the public, amazed at the change of atmosphere.
The circus was bathed in cold colors now, and as the man pulled his hands from the flames, taking with him the two long sticks that now had crackling blue fire on it's ends, a deep voice emerged from the speakers, setting the man into motion and enhancing with it's cadence his impetuous movements.
Keigo tried to pay attention to what the voice was narrating, something about a long-forgotten curse and the fate of a group of mercenaries that were bound by their destinies, but the man toying with the fire was far more interesting, his performance so demanding that even when he was the only one in the area he filled the whole space with his presence. From what he could get, the dancer was representing the demon that had cursed the protagonists, but he didn't get much more than that.
He watched, entranced, as the man twisted and twirled the sticks in his hands, dancing with them, stomping his bare feet down to the unrelenting rhythm of the music, his stance wide and unfaltering, heavy and gravity-less at the same time, the azure fire clawing at his glimmering skin but apparently unfazed by its effects. The voice was now more insistent, rhythmic, almost chanting in an ancient tongue, and the only source of light was the fire of the man, wild and uncontrollable and more frenetic as the seconds passed. And then he lunged forward, grabbed something from the floor, and before anyone could process what he was doing he was spitting flames, hot and beautiful and so high that for a moment Keigo was afraid of the man setting the carp ablaze. But he didn't, and as the fire died down abruptly and the music hit it's final note, the scenario was left in darkness again and Keigo's heart was hammering so hard that he could feel it in his throat, echoing the thunderous applause of the public.
The few seconds without light felt like an eternity, and he let them pass, struck at the fond feeling of understanding that filled him. From here, to the public, they were just meaningless instants, a limbo of nothing before the magic went on, but he knew they weren't. Hurried steps, so purposeful and rehearsed that they were vaguely coordinated, and hushed words, barely lost in the ocean of noises coming from the public, came from the arena. They were changing the setting of the scenery, pulling ropes, readjusting the place so the next number could take place. He knew this transitions were just as important as the actual performances, maybe more even. He pushed down the sharp bite of melancholy.
And so the next number came. Keigo allowed himself to get lost in the weird sense of familiarity, gasping and cooing with the rest of the public, gaping at the synchronization of the dancers and the illusions that highly contrasted shadows and colorful lights projected over them. He laughed too, thinking that it was no wonder there were no kids here. The tale was pretty dark, and the conversations between the cursed mercenaries were funny but bluntly inappropriate at times. They were a tiny young girl, all dressed in red and carrying at least 10 knives on her belts, a tall magician with a long hat that created amazing illusions, making people and objects appear and disappear in a blink, and an agile man that was always followed by an enormous crocodile. Time flew by as the story progressed, and the fire-breather came and went a couple more of times, asserting his dominance through his flames, making the trio cower and hide again and again, leaving the space only for him to go feral with the demonic fire.
And then the girl stepped forward and faced him, scared but brave, asking him to test her. The demon, Dabi, seemed to consider this, and she kept trying co convince him, saying that she could prove her worth and skill by killing one of his enemies. The demon smiled and responded that he needed no mortal to take part in any of his personal revenges, but that he would give her an opportunity. Then, he started walking towards the public, and the people around Keigo shifted nervously when the man's eyes started scanning them. A few hands darted up volunteering.
When his gaze landed on Keigo, time seemed to slow down. He felt his breath catch at the sight of his irises, as blue and vivid and brilliant as the flames from before. It took him a second to register the hand pointing at him and the light bulb directed towards his seat. "This one. You'll use this mortal to prove how precise you can be with your skill"
The pointing hand directed towards him opened then, and an inviting palm was hovering in front of his face. He took it without thinking, without averting his eyes from the deep pools of the fire-breather, not wanting to break the spell. He let himself be guided towards the scenery as the lights got dimmer for a few seconds, and the man smiled at him and motioned in the direction of a wooden surface.
"We have to get you tied up there, are you okay with that?"
I'm more than okay with that, he thought, trying not to look down at the toned torso of the guy. He couldn't make much of his face with the darkness surrounding them, but the little he could see told him he was incredibly handsome. Dark hair, facial piercings, a sharp clean jaw and straight nose.
"Yeah" he croaked out, and the man took his wrists, pushed him backwards until his back met the wooden wall behind him, and as he let his hands, neck and ankles be secured with leather cuffs and restraints, the weight of the situation downed on him. The fire-breather left his sight with a sly smile on his face and his voice blared again through the speakers as he let the girl and the audience know what the challenge was.
It should have been obvious, given that he was tied up in front of a girl with her hands full of sharp daggers.
"I've enchanted your knives, mortal. Now your blades are driven by human blood and will look for it no matter where you try to throw them. If you want to prove yourself to me, show me the strength of your will. Fight against my magic, girl, and don't lay a single scratch on this man"
The blond girl agreed and positioned in front of Keigo, holding his gaze with so much confidence that he almost forgot the dreading fear that was creeping up his gut with each passing second. The demon was behind her, leaning his weight on a crosier that was also burning with those blue artificial flames, and Keigo fixated his eyes on his, as if to blame him for whatever blood or limb loss that could potentially happen to him.
He didn't seem to worried, though, only amused, so he resigned and let himself in the hands of the destiny. He had seen a few knife-throwers in his life, but he had never been one of their subjects. He felt like a chicken waiting to be dissected.
The first dagger buried itself next to his neck, just above his right shoulder, and before he could process how close the impact had sounded, another came, and then another, and another, and the blades were cutting through the wood with so much force that their handlers were barely sticking out. His soul left his body as the girl threw all of the blades and then some more, surrounding him in a perfect silhouette of dangerous glinting metal, giggling and smiling the whole time.
The number finished with a round of roaring applause, and the public continued cheering and clapping even as the lights went out. He wasn't too aware of anything anymore but he registered that it wasn't the fire-breather who came to untie him, but one of the dancers. He was wearing a tight all-body black and white piece, his face tightly masked too but his expression behind it somewhat reassuring as he asked him if he was feeling fine. Keigo nodded and the muscular man took his hand gingerly and dragged him to his seat again, thanking him briefly for his cooperation and telling him he had done good and then calling him a crybaby when he almost tripped on the low step of the first row of seats.
He disappeared, and the lights illuminated the space where the knife-thrower and the fire-breather were debating something again, and Keigo tried to focus on what they were saying, but suddenly everything was too much. The bright dancing lights above him, the loud music, the dialogues, too fast for him to comprehend, the adrenaline still running through his body, the incessant chatter of the public, the absence of fresh air.
He left his seat.
The walk back home helped quiet down his racing chest, but the damage was already done.
He tried to convince himself that the uneasyness he was feeling was due to not being used to share so little space with so many loud strangers, to the fear of losing a limb, the headache from being too close to one of the speakers; but he dropped it soon. No amount of half-assed excuses could cover the truth completely.
He missed it. He missed it so much. The exhilarating thrill of being part of a dangerous number, of making the public gasp in awe at his every movement, the applause, the camaraderie behind the scenes. Fuck, even the long days of endless practice and rehearsals. And flying. He missed feeling able to fly the most.
He had made the mistake of looking up before he left, just to see if there would be anyone defying the skies at some point along the rest of the spectacle, but there was nothing there. No rope, no net, no head peeking out from behind the joists.
And now the nagging feeling of wanting to be above the ground was swelling inside him, getting bigger and bigger and taking away his appetite and making him skip dinner again. And, more importantly, making it hard to sleep for the first time in ages. He tossed and turned in bed until 3 AM, trying to soothe the part of him that was mad and accusing and sad and distraught until he gave in.
He turned on the lights and opened the closet beside his bed, tossing away boxes full of clothes, a broken ceiling fan, a bag of useless stuff. He didn't pause until he found what he was looking for.
The anxiety in his chest tightened, but there was relief there too now, carefully wrapped in a wave of nostalgia.
Only when he left the bag at the feet of his bed he could finally fall asleep, lulling over the silent promise made to himself.
Tomorrow.
Tomorrow came pretty quick, and the day passed in a rush, with notable improvement of his taking-care-of-himself skills. He had a full breakfast and then cleaned the apartment, his body buzzing with energy and giddyness and his head bobbing at the beat of the music blaring from his phone. It was an old playlist, something that he had put together to motivate himself when he was feeling down years ago. Why hadn't he played a single song from that list in the last months really escaped him.
He was feeling so brave that he ventured into the kitchen to cook something, only to emerge an hour later phone in hand, ready to order something. But not even the burnt pot deterred him, and he washed it the best he could as he waited for the delivery guy to arrive.
The rest was a blur. Running to the door when the bell rang. Opening, greeting, paying. Gulping down the food. Pulling out a bag, throwing in the keys, a bottle of water, a couple more of things and grabbing the other bag from where he had left it the night before. And then he was out.
The walk to the park was actually the most calm he had been the whole day. Feeling the sun on his face, the familiar weight of the bag hanging from his shoulders, the sense of having a purpose finally returning to him. It was a nice day, and the park was filled with families having picnics, people walking their dogs, kids pursuing a ball, teens lazying around and chatting in irregular circles. The sun was hot but the breeze was cool, and the grass was green and inviting, urging him to lay down and look at the few clouds in the sky for hours.
But he wasn't here for that.
He made a beeline towards his old favorite spot, two trees with strong trunks and wide treetops that threw gentle shadows below them. They were separated by at least 10m, and Keigo felt giddy when he dropped his bags under one of them. He was claiming this space again. It felt right.
He took off his shoes and socks and left them behind as he walked slowly towards the other tree, feeling the grass between his toes, it's coolness in the plants of his feet, prickling but not uncomfortable. His soles were kind of roughened at this point, but it never hurt to be careful, and also he loved every part of this process. Walking between the two trees at least five times with his gaze locked to the floor, picking up everything blunt or pointy, sometimes brushing away whatever stick or pebble that bothered him with his bare foot.
When he was satisfied, he went for the bag and took the contents out. His vibrant red slackline felt heavy, the metal secure cold, the rope rugose but not worn out even after the years of use. They really make this things to last, he thought. And then he got to his feet and embraced the first tree, one extreme of the rope in his right hand and the other in his left, and when they met somewhere behind the tree, he exchanged them, securing the lace firmly on the front. Then he took the other part of the slack and carried it to the other tree, repeating the process and then securing one onto the another, tightening it with the metal piece.
Keigo paused for a moment, but there was no way he was going back now. The line was secure, the weather was amazing and he wasn't scared.
Thankfully, he didn't even have to push his thoughts away by force, because as soon as he lifted his knee to let his foot climb onto the rope, his mind slipped into his best-known, most-loved trance.
He forced his foot down on the rope, testing it's tension, and then stepped firmly on it, one, two times, and the rest of his body followed the action with a little hop and he was on the air.
The smile that made its way to his face was still a bit fearful but unrestrained. He took a step forward, changing his balance from one foot to another with practiced ease, and then again and again, until he was in the middle of the line between the trees, where keeping balance was usually the most difficult, and the smile grew bigger as he let himself completely go.
Abandoning his body to it's instincts, feeling the slight tremble of the rope, the rough point of connection between himself and the line, the breeze in his face, enjoying the contradiction between not being tied to the ground anymore but not being quite free from gravity too. His muscles remembered every motion, every trick. He closed his eyes and walked backwards until the vibrations of the rope told him he was getting closer to the tree. Then, feeling invincible, he tried a jump forward, bringing both his knees close to his chest. The movement was quick, but the few instants when he felt nothing more than the wind around him were exhilarating. Then his left foot found the rope again, where it was supposed to be, and his body went down, pushing the rope down too with his weight. Keigo took advantage of the momentum to crouch just with one leg and then swiftly jump up, landing on his right foot again.
Ah, he had missed this so much. Still not opening his eyes, he turned around a couple of times, twirling on the spot, changing his center of gravity from his talon to his toes, almost dancing, keeping his abdomen tense and accompanying every movement of his legs with wide motions of his arms to keep balance. How had he been able to not do this in months? He loved it so much, the search of impulse, creating the correct instant to move, flirting with the air, challenging himself. He opened his eyes and looked up, resting his weight in one leg and bringing the other to rest against it's shin like a ballerina. Looking at the sky finally felt right again. Fuck, he wanted to be even closer. The rope wasn't too far from the floor now, just above his waist when he was on the ground, but maybe next time he could set it higher.
When he caught himself thinking about next time, his heart hammered with excitement.
He had to thank Rumi for this. And the people from the circus.
And actually, he had to apologize to Rumi too, for not staying until the end of the function. He was lowkey invested in the story, even if he had been a bit distracted with, well, suppressing horny thoughts about a certain blue-eyed fire-breather and also unpleasant thoughts about his own time in the circus.
Still in balance, he pulled his phone out to check the time, surprised and pleased equally when he saw that it had been half an hour and he wasn't even breathing that hard. Considering he had been pretty much living a sedentary life over the last few months, he should have been much more out of shape.
He could see from the corner of his eye some people watching him, probably even snapping some pictures. He had always preferred training in circus ground, much higher and with a safety net, or at least somewhere more private, but it's not like he could do that now. And well, he didn't mind it too much, he was kind of used to the attention that walking on tightrope attracted.
He took a photo of his foot aligned with the rope under him, his body clearly disconnected from it's shadow on the grass, and sent it to Rumi, getting an almost immediate response back.
bunny: so i take it you liked the circus yesterday?
He scoffed and tossed his phone in his back pocket again, and that's when he looked up and saw him.
The fire-breather was staring at him with interest, and when their gazes locked, he didn't look away, tilting his chin up at him and smirking instead.
He remembered him?
He stepped down the slackline, trading the texture of rough intertwined threads for soft fresh blades of grass, and the other man seemed to take that as an invitation to approach, his movements casual as if they were old acquaintances and not nearly strangers.
"Please don't stop just because of me. I hope you don't mind if I train here too" he said as he came closer. His voice was as deep and raspy as the day before, but more relaxed, less...Theatrical.
Keigo supposed that made sense, he certainly couldn't expect the man to act like Dabi, the Demon Lord of Darkness, despite the both of them giving off the exact same vibe. He was wearing dark clothes again, his hair as messy as the day before too, and now that he was seeing him in daylight, his piercings were glistening like little jewels, catching his attention like that of a stupid bird. As he came even closer, he noticed the faint scars covering part of his face and neck.
"Go on" he eyed the bag the guy was carrying with suspicion. "I just hope you won't set fire to the place, I like this spot"
The guy barked out a laugh and waved a dismissive hand. "I won't. I'm only practicing my routines today" he clarified, opening his bag and taking out a pair of black cariocas. Wow, the guy was really committed to the aesthetic.
"You didn't have those yesterday" he blurted out, and the man raised an eyebrow at him.
"Yes I did. At the end"
Keigo felt a light blush raising to his face remembering how dumbfounded and pliant he had been the day before and then his shameful escape.
"Oh, I... I left. After the knives, actually. Had to take care of something"
The man didn't seem to buy the excuse completely, but he nodded and turned away, kicking his shoes off and setting the cariocas into motion.
The force and speed of the dark spheres surprised Keigo. They cut through the air like black holes, dancing in an hypnotic rhythm around the man. And he didn't seem to be making great effort to make them trace the sinuous complicated arcs they were doing, he was just...calm, like the eye of the storm, constantly moving but never straying around too much, like attached to a gravitational center, and the blurs of obscure movement around him were like his satellites, dancing around him, never going away too far nor colliding.
Keigo shook his stupor off and got on the rope again, improvising distractedly and sometimes peeking at the guy with curiosity when he stopped his dancing to figure out the mechanics of a movement with one hand and then the other, before combining them in a tentative motion that usually became confident a few seconds later.
Then, one of those times, when he had both arms up in the air one of the cariocas strayed away from it's trajectory and hit him in the back of the head. He cursed, rubbing at the spot with an offended look and Keigo laughed, his trembling body passing it's vibrations to the rope and making him lose his balance. He jumped down easily before falling, and directed a weak "You okay?" to the frowning fire-breather.
Said man stopped rubbing his head and huffed out a laugh too. "Yeah, not the worst hit I've taken. You'd be surprised to know how thick my skull is at this point"
"Been practicing for a long time?"
"Yeah. I take it you too? Or are you just a natural?"
Keigo shook his head no. "Definitely not a natural. I started practicing when I was five"
He omitted the part where his parents had left him with some distant relatives who worked on a travelling circus company six months every year and didn't give a shit about him. It was almost a miracle he wasn't completely illiterate, given how many classes he had missed for being on tour with a bunch of adults who didn't have the time or the energy to waste around a snotty kid. He had found the old slack somewhere amongst a bunch of stuff that no one ever claimed as theirs but always traveled with them in one of the wagons for some reason, and he had gotten attached to it quickly. He didn't have much to do besides playing with the thing, and the better he got, the more attention and praise he attracted, so walking on tightrope became as easy as breathing as the years passed.
"How come your flames are blue?" if the other sensed he was deflecting, he didn't seem to be bothered by the change of topic.
"It's just chemicals. Kurogiri helped me figure it out. He's the guy in charge of lighting and director of scenery. And also the voice that narrates the tale"
"That seems like a lot of work for just one guy"
The man shrugged, starting to swing the cariocas gently at his sides again. "We are still pretty new. Too much work and not too many of us"
They went back to their respective activities for a while. Keigo jumping on the rope, going as far as holding himself up with just one hand before bouncing back and resuming his confident walking. He was trying to show off a little but not making it too obvious while the fire-breather observed him, not bothering to dissimulate his stare from behind the stelae of his never stopping orbs.
He was finally sweating the next time he got down, and he marched towards his belongings and pulled out the water bottle.
"You ever worked on a circus then?"
Fuck, he hadn't noticed how close the guy was, now with the cariocas hanging in just one hand and the other palm resting on the tree's surface.
Well, so much for avoiding the topic.
"Yes, actually. Like, ever since I was five until some time last year when I quitted. Why?"
"Just, curiosity. There aren't many ways in which you can put your talent to good use. I was just wondering if you knew them"
"Of course I do. I've been performing at UA for years"
The man's playful gaze changed a little, revealing something more serious behind.
"Did something happen?"
Keigo considered brushing off the question, but he didn't find the point in that. "I had a nasty fall and my boss was kind of an asshole about it, so I left. Nothing too grave"
"That seems like a much longer story"
"Well, not really. I used to admire the guy a lot, and having him tell me that I was a fucking disgrace and that I didn't deserve my title or whatever was kind of a heavy blow"
"That's bullshit, you're amazing" he replied vehemently, before asking cautiously "What title?"
"The Mighty Hawks" he smiled, feeling as if he was sharing a private joke. Dabi caught on to it quickly.
"Really? A bird alias? Because you're a funambulist?"
Keigo didn't answer, only humming in amused agreement while pulling his phone out again to check the time. Deciding it was getting late, he grabbed his shoes and proceeded to put them on, still smiling. The other leaned against the rope, smirking down at him.
"Come see us again tomorrow. It's gonna be the last performance we do for a while because it's final season. I can give you tickets"
Was this man seriously inviting him on...well, it couldn't be a date since they wouldn't technically be together, but...
"...Unless you already have other plans?"
Oh, fuck, right, he was taking too much time to answer.
"No, no, I'm free. And I'd really like that, uh..."
"Dabi"
"Are you serious? Like the demon king?" he laughed.
"The demon lord was named after me, actually" he said, trying to keep a straight face but betrayed by the tiny smile dancing on his lips. "And you are...?"
"Keigo"
Two tickets emerged from Dabi's pockets, protected by pale, long fingers that held them in front of Keigo's face. "Need another for the girlfriend, Keigo?" he said, confident smile never faltering.
Smooth bastard, he thought, not a bit bothered by it. "No, actually. I'm very much not in a relationship right now" he retorted, stretching his hand out to take just one of the tickets, and the fire-breather seemed pleased with his answer, putting the other away.
"Don't leave when the function ends, I'll come find you and you can tell me your thoughts on the end of the story" he said, picking up his own bag from the grass and slipping his feet into his worn shoes.
"You'll have to promise not to pick me again for the knife-throwing number, though"
"Oh but how will I get to hold your hand otherwise?"
Keigo could feel he was blushing a little at the blatant flirting, but he didn't cower. "You'll have to take me on a date first"
"That's what I'm trying to do, duh"
Oh, so it was a date. He was definitely blushing now, and Dabi was probably aware, if the slow widening of his cat-like smile was anything to go by. Keigo nodded at him and turned to collect his slackline, trying to will his flushed face to go back to normal.
"See you tomorrow, baby bird" the fire-breather said, before turning on his heels too and heading in the direction of the entrance.
Nervousness and giddyness bubbled up inside of him watching Dabi go.
Tomorrow.