The September air carried with it the unmistakable promise of autumn, crisp and cool against the skin, as though the lingering warmth of summer had finally surrendered. The temperature hovered just above fifty degrees, sharp enough to raise goosebumps but softened by the fleeting warmth of the sun. A light breeze wound its way through the streets, tugging at stray strands of hair and carrying with it the earthy perfume of fallen leaves—a scent that whispered of endings and quiet beginnings.

After a long day, you guided your children home from school. Kaen, your eldest at eleven, walked beside you with the restless energy of someone caught between childhood and adolescence, while little Noa, only four, skipped ahead with a bounce in her step, still young enough to find magic in every small thing. Parenthood was never easy but single parenthood carried its own weight—a heaviness that came from balancing the roles of nurturer and protector, all while shouldering the daily exhaustion of work and responsibility. Yet, this was the life you had chosen when you fell in love with a man the world saw only as a criminal.

Dabi—your husband, your children’s father, and a name feared by many—was both a presence and an absence in their lives. He couldn’t stay, not for long, not without risk. His existence was dangerous, unpredictable, a flame that burned too hot to be contained within the fragile walls of domestic normalcy. And yet, when he could, he returned. Sometimes for a day, sometimes for weeks, even months if fortune allowed. Those moments, rare as they were, were cherished. For all his flaws, Dabi tried, and you were grateful for that—grateful that, despite the chaos of his world, he never forgot his family.

The day had stretched you thin, beginning with the usual morning scramble of waking the children, preparing them for school, and rushing them out the door, followed by the long hours of work spent enduring both endless tasks and the irritations of coworkers. By the time you had picked Kaen and Noa up, your body ached for rest. Still, when they reached the house, the fatigue was pushed aside by the eager energy of your children. The front door swung open, and Noa darted inside, her small voice ringing out like a bell.

“Daddy!” she squealed with uncontainable joy.

Her cry carried through the home and straight to the kitchen, where the familiar figure stood. Dabi was there, as unexpected as ever, a shadow of danger and warmth all at once. He was bent over the stove, cooking—or at least attempting to, though the air hinted at something slightly burnt. Kaen’s eyes widened, and before you could even set down your things, he bolted forward, crashing into his father’s side with a hug that was both fierce and relieved.

Dabi turned, one scarred hand ruffling his son’s dark hair as the other carefully steadied the pan. His voice was rough, a low rasp softened only for them.

“Hey, kiddo. How was school?”

Kaen’s face lit up as if he’d been holding everything in all day just to tell him. “It was good! I beat everyone in dodgeball today. Even the teacher said I was too fast.”

A rare smirk pulled at Dabi’s lips. “That so? Guess you didn’t get my clumsy genes after all.”

Kaen grinned wider. “Yeah, I think I got Mom’s. You’re too tall, you’d probably trip over your own legs.”

Dabi let out a quiet, raspy laugh. “You talk a lot of smack for a kid who still can’t reach the top shelf.”

“Dad!” Kaen shoved his arm lightly, but his laughter gave him away.

Meanwhile, Noa had wrapped herself around Dabi’s leg, staring up at him with bright, wide eyes. “Daddy, are you staying?”

He crouched down, pulling them both close. His mismatched eyes softened, the sharpness replaced with something raw. “I’m staying tonight,” he promised, pressing a kiss to Noa’s hair. “Longer if I can. I missed you two. Every damn day.”

Kaen’s arms tightened around him. “We missed you too. Don’t leave again for a long time, okay? Just stay here. You don’t even have to cook.”

That earned him another low chuckle. “What, you don’t like my cooking?”

Noa wrinkled her nose, peeking at the pan on the stove. “It smells funny.”

Dabi gave a mock-offended gasp. “Hey now, that’s gourmet right there. Took me all of five minutes to burn.”

Kaen laughed so hard he nearly toppled over. “See, I told you! You’re terrible at cooking.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dabi muttered, though the corner of his mouth twitched in amusement.

The kitchen filled with laughter—the children’s bright and bubbling, Dabi’s rough and rare. And for a moment, the world outside didn’t matter.

The kitchen was quiet except for the soft clink of dishes, the steady rhythm of water running in the sink as Dabi cleaned up the small mess he had made while attempting to cook. The scent of char lingered faintly in the air, a reminder of his less-than-perfect skills in the kitchen, but there was a rare comfort in the simple act of tidying up. For a moment, it almost felt like normalcy—fragile, borrowed, but precious.

Then, the peace was broken. Noa came bursting into the kitchen, her little feet pattering across the floor, her face alight with pure joy.

“Mommy! Daddy! Look! Look!” she cried, her smile so wide it nearly swallowed her small features.

She held up her hand, and from her palm shimmered a faint glow—a small flicker of blue, delicate yet unmistakable. It was the fragile beginning of a flame, her quirk awakening in its earliest form.

You felt your heart swell with warmth, a smile tugging at your lips as you watched your daughter’s discovery. But the expression on Dabi’s face was nothing like your own. His eyes widened, not with pride but with alarm, and in an instant he was across the room, his scarred hand wrapping firmly around Noa’s tiny wrist.

“Noa, put it out. Now.” His voice was sharp, a snap edged with panic rather than patience.

The light in her palm sputtered out, but the brightness in her eyes dimmed with it. Noa’s lips trembled, tears welling before she jerked her arm free and bolted from the kitchen, her small sobs echoing down the hall as she disappeared into her room. Kaen, who had been lounging in the living room, immediately stood, his protective instincts flaring, and hurried after his sister.

The silence left in their wake was heavy. Dabi’s shoulders sagged as he stared at the empty doorway, his hand still hovering in the air as if he could undo what had just happened. Regret flickered across his features, tangled with something darker, something that had always haunted him. He had prayed—hoped—that Noa might inherit your quirk instead, or maybe even remain quirkless like Kaen. Anything but this. Anything but fire.

He hated it—the way, after all these years, his father’s shadow still crept into every corner of his life. And now, it seemed to reach for his children, too.

Dabi turned slowly to you, his voice low and rough, stripped of its usual bravado. “I’m a dick, aren’t I?” he muttered, dragging a scarred hand down his face with a heavy sigh. His gaze faltered, guilt burning behind it. “I... I can’t let her... be like me. She’s so sweet. So good. She doesn’t deserve this curse.” His hands curled into fists, knuckles pale against scarred skin.

He swallowed hard, his voice breaking into a growl, raw and trembling with both rage and fear. “I can’t let him have her. Not her.”