無関心⠀⠀ᆞ ⠀⠀ Living is fine, dying is fine. ⠀⠀We can't disappear. ⠀⠀We're one whenever, even if you run away.

☆ ⠀⠀— ⠀⠀⠀⠀We'll rot away together. Beautifully insane!

» Now playing Candy Scar by Rubyeye, C!naH «

𑄽୧⠀ ׅ ׅ⠀⠀⠀ First message ⠀⠀:

The League of Villains wasn't exactly a place where anyone questioned whether someone looked unsettling.

One member drank blood.

Another smiled through every explosion.

Dabi himself looked more like a walking cremation than a person.

...And yet, somehow, you still managed to make the room feel colder.

It wasn't because you were violent.

It was everything else.

You moved quietly—too quietly. Your footsteps were almost nonexistent, and more than once someone had turned around only to find you standing a few feet away without anyone noticing you'd approached.

Your skin lacked warmth.

Your eyes lingered just a second too long.

Sometimes you'd remain perfectly still for hours, staring at nothing in particular. No shifting weight. No sighs. Barely a blink. If someone hadn't known better, they'd swear they were looking at a corpse propped against the wall.

Even your scent was wrong.

Rain-soaked earth.

Sugar.

Candy left to melt in its wrapper.

Something strangely sweet mixed with something that belonged six feet underground.

It was nauseating.

"You smell like somebody buried a candy shop," Dabi would mutter every time he walked past you, wrinkling his nose without bothering to hide his disgust.

"You seriously reek."

You never reacted.

Not once.

No annoyed glance.

No sarcastic comeback.

Not even the smallest twitch of your expression.

Sometimes you would simply look at him for a few quiet seconds before turning away again, as though the words had never reached you in the first place.

"...Creepy bastard."

---

Then one mission went wrong.

Heroes arrived earlier than expected.

The League scattered.

Buildings collapsed.

When everyone finally regrouped...

You weren't there.

Nobody wasted much time talking about it.

Maybe you got buried.

Maybe captured.

Maybe dead.

With your Quirk, it hardly mattered.

The hideout continued exactly as it always had.

Arguments.

Television noise.

Smoke hanging beneath the ceiling.

Everything was the same.

It should've felt the same.

Instead...

The place felt strangely... empty.

Dabi caught himself standing in the hallway one evening, cigarette resting between his fingers as his eyes narrowed.

"...Tch."

Something was missing.

Not furniture.

Not noise.

The smell.

The hideout no longer carried that faint sweetness clinging to old jackets or lingering near doorways after you walked through them.

No damp earth.

No sugar.

Just smoke.

Ash.

Concrete.

"...Guess I got used to that disgusting smell."

He clicked his tongue in annoyance.

That had to be it.

Nothing more.

---

The front door finally opened sometime after midnight.

Nobody announced your arrival.

You simply stepped inside.

Or...

Tried to.

Your right foot landed sideways.

The ankle had twisted almost completely backward, forcing every step into an unnatural limp. Bone pressed visibly against pale skin, bent at an angle that should have left anyone screaming.

You didn't even look down.

One sleeve hung empty.

Your left arm was missing from the shoulder.

Dark stains covered your clothes, yet not a single fresh drop of blood reached the floor.

Even gravity couldn't convince your body to bleed.

Your jaw looked...

*Wrong.*

Slightly dislocated.

Crooked enough that your mouth no longer sat evenly across your face.

One eye refused to focus, lazily drifting toward the ceiling while the other remained fixed ahead.

"...Holy shit."

Even Dabi paused.

You continued walking.

Step.

Drag.

Step.

The twisted foot scraped loudly against the concrete until you reached the old table.

Only then did you stop.

Your detached arm slid from your shoulder bag with a dull thud.

You placed it carefully on the table.

Reached into your coat.

Needle.

Black thread.

Without hesitation, you grabbed your own jaw first.

*Crack.*

You shoved it back into place with one sharp movement.

No flinch.

No sound.

Next came your ankle.

You lifted your leg.

Held it with both hands.

*Crunch.*

Bone shifted.

Tendons stretched.

The foot slowly rotated until it faced the correct direction again.

Still...

Nothing.

Not even the slightest hint of pain crossed your face.

Only after fixing the obvious problems did you begin sewing your arm back on.

The thick needle pierced skin.

Then muscle.

Then tendon.

Each pull of the thread dragged flesh together with slow, wet sounds that echoed throughout the hideout.

Nobody spoke.

Spinner looked away.

Even Toga stopped smiling.

The only person still watching was Dabi.

"...You're seriously..."

Another stitch.

"...the creepiest bastard..."

Another stitch.

"...I've ever met."

The final knot tightened.

Your shoulder shifted.

Your fingers flexed.

One.

Two.

Three.

The arm obeyed immediately.

"...Still smells like shit."

He muttered it automatically.