Chapter Text
(My drawing for the cover of my story)⬆️
Jess sank into the plush leather seat of the royal jet, her raspberry-red braid draped over her right shoulder, its tip brushing her hip. She wore a black ribbed top tucked into a forest-green pleated skirt, sheer tights, and sleek ankle boots—an ensemble both elegant and practical for long-haul travel. Amber cabin lights cast warm highlights on her porcelain skin, and her emerald-green eyes flicked to the polished mahogany console at her side.
Resting on the console was a slim black case embossed with the white-tree crest and emerald inlays. Jess slipped on thin protective gloves—raw Luminite remained deadly to her—and released the clasps. Inside lay two pairs of refined Luminite cuffs: each band forged from polished, dark metal and contoured to the wrist, with a ring of evenly spaced, luminescent blue diodes set flush around its circumference. The soft glow pulsed gently, illuminating the high-tech craftsmanship. She lifted one cuff, feeling its lightweight sturdiness and noting the faint warmth against her gloves—the mild fever this refined alloy provoked, far preferable to the hives raw shards would trigger.
Her uncle, King Jetter Falcon Mikcloud, had pinned his hopes on these cuffs. Unlike the brutal Tartus restraints, these bands would suppress quirks humanely, reducing casualties when heroes clashed with villains. Jess traced a gloved fingertip along the cuff's interior edge, imagining it snapping shut around a dangerous fugitive's wrists—secure, nonlethal, reversible.
She closed the case and tucked it back into its slot. Beyond the window, clouds stretched like fields of white, hiding the neon towers and crowded streets awaiting her arrival. Jess inhaled, steadying her racing heart. She carried her nation's future in these cuffs—whatever storm lay ahead, she would face it with the calm authority etched in every pulse of that cobalt light.
Moonlight pooled across the gravel courtyard of Gunga Mountain Villa, its ancient stones half-hidden by moss and creeping ferns. The Liberation's stronghold rose beyond—a cluster of timber buildings roofed in charcoal tiles, sealed within a ring of volcanic outcrops that masked every electronic signature. Here, heroes never dared tread.
Inside the eastern wing, Tomura Shigaraki lounged in his gaming chair, his injured leg finally healed. Fresh gloves covered his pale hands as he zeroed in on his live combat simulator, headset snug over his hair. He growled into his mic, "You bunch of idiots!" His teammates' apologies crackled through the comms—they'd lost yet another round of the tournament he'd become obsessed with.
A buzz on his wrist drew his attention. His phone's pinned notification glowed red: a message from Dr. Kyudai Garaki. He tapped it open:
"Down in Lab Two. New mission from AFO."
Tomura sighed, exhaling sharply. "You bunch of idiots... When I get back, you better not screw up again!" With that, he ended the stream, logged out of the game, and stood, resolve hardening in his chest.
Leaving his room in a fury, Tomura Shigaraki stormed into the corridor. Himiko Toga skipped up beside him, her grin wide and mischievous.
"Your online buddies piss you off again?" she teased, bouncing on the balls of her feet.
Tomura only growled in response and pushed past her, descending the stairs to Lab Two. It didn't take long to reach the antiseptic glow of the underground facility.
Kyudai Garaki stood at the far end of the room, his back to them, hands clasped behind his lab coat. The soft click of Tomura's footsteps made the doctor turn. Half-hidden behind his respirator mask, his eyes met Tomura's with a single, steady nod.
"You've received the order," Garaki said, voice calm and measured. "All For One commands: before noon, abduct the princess of Celtica."
Tomura blinked. "Wait—why a princess? Celtica is feared and respected. They don't take shit from anyone."
Garaki chuckled, tapping a holo-display at his side. "Years ago, the Mikcloud royals wronged All For One. I don't know the details, but he wants the princess with the rarest unstealable quirk—Jess Lightning Mikcloud. He trusts you to capture her."
Tomura rubbed the nape of his neck and exhaled slowly. "I'll speak with Compress."
He pivoted on his heel and made his way down the curved corridor to the villa's private library den—Compress's habitual refuge. The door swung open on silent hinges to reveal floor-to-ceiling shelves crammed with leather-bound tomes, alchemical manuscripts, and battered hero-history volumes. A low amber lamp cast pools of light over two overstuffed armchairs and a small oak table set with porcelain teacups and a steaming pot of jasmine tea. The air smelled of old paper and brewing leaves.
Tomura paused at the entrance, watching Compress lean forward in one armchair, nose buried in a treatise on spatial manipulation. He wore a crisp black vest over a white shirt, sleeves rolled to the elbow, and his ever-present half-mask lay on the table beside him. Moments earlier, Tomura had spotted Dabi filching a thick volume on quirk theory—proof that this den doubled as the Liberation's unofficial lounge.
Clearing his throat, Tomura stepped into the warm glow. Compress looked up and snapped the book shut with a quiet thud. "Shigaraki," he greeted calmly, eyes cool behind wire-rimmed glasses. He set the volume aside and rose, folding the teacup in his gloved hands.
"Compress," Tomura began, voice low, "All For One has a direct order: this morning you're to abduct Princess Jessica Lightning Mikcloud."
Compress tilted his head. "The second-crowned princess? I assume we intercept her car?"
Tomura nodded, taking a steadying breath. "You'll pose as her driver. The limo picks her up at Haneda and heads to the embassy. Mid-route, deploy the knockout gas in the rear compartment—she'll be unconscious in seconds. Bring her back here, to one of the stone rooms near the lab. The refined Luminite cuffs will be hanging from the ceiling; cuff her in the center of the room."
A faint smile curved Compress's lips. "The gas canister's prepped, disguise is ready. I'll need a clear window—no escorts, no delays."
"I'm sure she's traveling alone," Tomura confirmed. "It's rumored she doesn't like being hovered by so many guards."
Compress set the teacup back on its saucer, the porcelain whispering against the table. "Understood." He buttoned his vest and reached for his mask. "I'll fetch the car. You sure no Grand Knights will accompany her? The first Grand Knight is too powerful for me... and the second is a ninja assassin, rarely seen. I don't want my head cut off... I hear the princess is quite a beauty."
"The Angelic Knight and the Dragon Knight will not be with her," Tomura replied. He paused, then added, "Just do it, Compress. Your face hasn't been seen yet, so knock yourself out."
Dawn's first light gilded the slim fuselage of the royal jet as it touched down on Musutafu's tarmac. Jess pressed her gloved fingertips to the armrest, heart fluttering with anticipation. It had been years since she'd walked Japanese soil, and already the memory of maple-lined avenues and paper lanterns warmed her chest.
The cabin door hissed open, releasing a cool breeze scented faintly of cherry blossoms. Jess rose, smoothing the pleats of her skirt, and stepped onto the stairs. Below her, ground staff in crisp uniforms bowed respectfully, though Jess noted none of them wore the crest-bearing livery that usually accompanied her father's flights. She inhaled deeply, letting the promise of a new day settle around her.
A sleek black limo waited at the base of the steps—her sole escort. She slid inside, the door closing with a whisper. Through tinted windows, the streets of Musutafu unfurled: low-slung shops with noren curtains, ornate tile roofs peeking over bamboo groves, and the distant silhouette of Todoroki Abode's polished gates. Beyond it lay estates of Japan's other great families—Ayashiro, Iwabuchi, and Nakashima—each a testament to history and power.
Jess surrendered to the city's rhythm. Here, horns were rare; polite bows had replaced brash exchanges. She cherished the hush of Musutafu's avenues—a far cry from the roar of Celtica's capital. Soon she'd arrive at her family's estate, a fortress of flowering gardens and vermilion torii marking every threshold.
She closed her eyes and let the limo roll onward, imagining plum blossoms framing the drive. Japan felt like coming home—her father, James Kuran, hailed from these streets before marrying into the Mikcloud dynasty. She hummed softly, comforted by the memory.
Suddenly, purple haze drifted from the vents. A cough ripped through her throat and she snapped her eyes open.
No—you're being kidnapped! she thought, yanking at the door handle. It held fast. Her vision blurred as the gas stung her lungs and she slid sideways in her seat.
A calm voice floated over the partition. "Relax, Princess. We'll be at your new home soon."
Jess blinked through the haze and saw a figure kneeling in front—face hidden behind a gas mask.
Tomura paced the dim corridor outside Lab One, each footstep echoing off the steel walls. Two hours had passed since he'd dispatched Compress—and still no word. His patience, already worn thin by failed livestreams and gaming losses, frayed further with every second.
A soft clatter of boots made him halt. Compress appeared in the doorway, Princess Jess cradled limply in his arms. Her auburn braid spilled over his shoulder; moonlight caught the faint sheen of sweat on her brow. Compress set her gently on the cold stone floor of the special holding room.
Tomura stepped inside, eyes narrowing at the bare chamber: a single ceiling hook draped with heavy chains and the refined Luminite cuffs, their diodes pulsing cobalt-blue.
"Her quirk is dangerous," Tomura said, voice low. "Cuff her. And strip her."
Compress hesitated "Strip her?"
Tomura's face flushed deep red. He ran a hand through his pale hair. "All For One said to. Do it."
Behind his mask, Compress's jaw tightened. Each garment he removed—skirt, top, gloves—felt like a betrayal of his own ethics. Still, he peeled them aside, exposing Jess's wrists.
He clipped the first cuff around her slender wrist. Its pulse flared, and Jess stirred, coughing softly on the cold air. Compress forced himself to lock the second cuff to the overhead chain; the metal clinked sharply in the silence.
Tomura turned away, arms crossed. "Good. Leave her."
Compress backed out of the room, heart pounding. He'd obeyed Shigaraki's order—yet as he closed the door, a single thought echoed in his mind: he followed Tomura's command, not All For One's. And that difference might just cost him everything.
Night draped over Manhattan as the clock on the penthouse wall chimed eight. Dawn stood at the marble sink, rinsing the last plate, while soft jazz drifted from unseen speakers. On the velvet couch, James Kuran flipped through treaty drafts, the lamp's glow reflecting off his black and gold-streaked hair.
Though it was only 8 PM in New York, across the globe Tokyo was pushing toward morning briefings—briefings now thrown into chaos.
A ripple of pale blue light shimmered by the entryway. Avatora's hologram materialized, every crystalline line of her form softly pulsing with white circuitry. In her android body—or as a holo, it didn't matter—she always carried an air of silent authority. She bowed once, voice deep and measured.
"Forgive the intrusion, Your Grace," she said. "The Princess disappeared after deplaning at Haneda and departing in her limousine."
James froze, document in hand. Dawn's dish towel slipped from her grasp, clattering against the sink. Her eyes widened.
"Jess has been taken?!" Dawn's voice cracked with disbelief.
James rose so fast his chair scraped the floor. He ran a hand through his hair, lips pressed together. "By who...?"
Avatora's glow dimmed fractionally. "I have notified the embassy in Tokyo. Lord Frank Valkyrie is en route via the Helicarrier."
Silence fell, broken only by the city's distant hum. Dawn and James exchanged a look—pride and panic intertwined—while Avatora remained poised, already calculating their next move.
James breathed, "Dawn, we are heading there too. I will sit here while our daughter was just kidnapped... I knew I should have had Celtican royal guards with her—or even River! Damn it! Dawn, pack your things!"
Dawn nodded, her voice tight. "What of Sora...?"
James met her gaze.
"He's in the underground right now... you know our son took up my old assassin ways and he's on a job. Avatora, message him when he's finished."
"Understood, Your Grace," Avatora intoned, then her hologram dissolved into the lamplight.
Dawn and James dashed down the hallway to their suite. Dawn's breath came in short, panicked bursts; the room's temperature felt too high, each second stoking her rising fear. James caught her by the shoulder—his palm warmed by his own quirk, but he held it steady.
"My love," he murmured, voice firm but gentle, "you need to calm down before you go nuclear...and end up creating radiation from your Solar quirk."
Dawn blinked away tears, inhaling deeply as James guided her to the loveseat. He opened his phone's secure channel to the embassy, arranging immediate clearance on the next flight to Tokyo. Within minutes, their bags were packed and waiting by the door.
Moments later, they descended to the hangar. A sleek private jet—registered to the Kuran estate—glistened under floodlights. As they stepped aboard, James took Dawn's hand, squeezing it once. She nodded, cheeks pink with adrenaline and the quirk's latent warmth flickering at her fingertips.
The engines roared to life. Dawn closed her eyes, focusing her Solar quirk into a calm ember at her core. James sank into the co-pilot's seat, his expression grim but determined.
"Musutafu awaits," he said softly. "And we'll bring our daughter home."
Late morning light filtered through narrow windows into the villa's meeting chamber. Rough‐hewn stone walls rose around a long U-shaped table, its surface scarred by past gatherings and stained by spilled tea no one ever cleaned up. At each seat sat a lieutenant of the Paranormal Liberation Front: Compress at the far end, frowning behind his mask; Himiko Toga to his left, restless; Dabi beside her, arms crossed; Geten—silent, eyes narrowed; and Twice, tapping his foot in impatience.
Toga exhaled loudly, leaning back in her chair. "I wonder what this sudden meeting is about..."
Dabi's lip curled. "Better not be something that's gonna get us into another battle..."
Geten shot a warning glance at Dabi, but Twice threw up his hands. "Yeah? I could use a break! Who the hell wants to fight right now?"
A tense hush fell, punctuated only by the scrape of steel boots on stone. The heavy oaken doors at the head of the table slid open, and Tomura Shigaraki stepped in. His pale eyes swept the room, and every lieutenant fell silent.
Tomura crossed to the head of the table, folding his arms. "We have a new quest downstairs, No one is allowed to go near her. Only me and the Doctor."
A collective intake of breath filled the room. Toga's slender shoulders jerked, and she pressed both hands to her mouth.
"Who?!" she gasped out loudly, eyes bright with equal parts excitement and alarm.
Tomura exhaled, the sound almost a sigh of impatience. His pale hair caught the torchlight as he spoke again.
"The 2nd Crowned Princess of Celtica."
In that instant, Twice—the jokester—grew impossibly still, his mask paling to ghost-white. Even Geten's usual stoic expression flickered with tension. Dabi's lip trembled as he clenched his arms across his chest. He leaned forward, voice low but fierce.
"Are you insane? What gave you the idea to kidnap Celtica's treasured Princess?! You trying to get Japan on their shit list?!"
A dark shadow crossed Tomura's features. He narrowed his eyes, and the room seemed to grow colder. Every lieutenant leaned back, watching the exchange like gladiators awaiting a fight. Tomura lifted a single finger, silencing Dabi before he could push further.
Tomura frowns at him with a narrow "I didn't ask for your opinion Dabi, it was All For One's order and I made it happen. That family will pay for wronging Senesi. The Princess's quirk is powerful, and he wants it. understand?'"
Dabi's scowl deepened, but he averted his gaze. Around the table, shuffling chairs and held breaths spoke louder than any cheering or revolt. The message was clear: this was no ordinary mission—and failure was unthinkable.
The Hero Commission's high-rise headquarters felt unusually silent. Hawks stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, arms folded as he surveyed the city below. Across the polished marble floor, the President of the Commission—her expression grave—watched him expectantly.
"To think a crowned Princess of Celtica was taken here in Japan," the President murmured, voice tight. She turned from the window, eyes darkening. "And now Sir Frank Valkyrie himself is inbound with the royal Helicarrier... James and Dawn Kuran are on their way, too. Hawks... do you think the League did it?"
Hawks's crimson wings rustled in agitation. He frowned, running a hand through his hair. "I honestly don't know," he admitted. "I haven't been near the League's hideout in months. We can't just launch an assault—we don't even know if they're holding her."
He paused, glancing at the President's taut features. "But it doesn't feel like their style. Kidnapping a foreign royal? They'd be too smart to grab that kind of heat."
Silence lingered between them, punctuated only by the distant hum of traffic far below. The President clasped her hands. "Then what do you recommend, Hawks?"
Hawks turned back to the window, the first rays of dawn slicing through the haze. "We tighten surveillance. Push every asset—street informants, sky patrols, signal intercepts...If the Princess surfaces, we'll know it the moment it happens. Have the Hero's of Japan know of her kidnapping."
The President nodded, resolve hardening in her eyes. "Very well. Keep me updated, and don't spare any resources. Head to UA, call for a meeting with the other Hero's. No student needs to know."
Hawks bowed once, then swept from the room—already calculating the next move to locate the missing Princess before foreign eyes crossed their borders.
Morning light barely seeped into the cold, concrete room. Jess stirred, her head pounding. Her emerald eyes flew open, and panic surged through her veins—she was on her knees, wrists chained and held above her by reinforced cuffs glowing faintly with Luminite energy. Her breath caught.
Her body trembled—not from fear, but from fury.
She looked down and scowled deeply. Whoever took her had left her in nothing but her bra and underwear. A wave of disgust and rage burned through her.
Whoever did this would regret it.
Trained by Frank and River, Jess wasn't just a royal—she was a force. And the moment those chains gave way, someone was going to wish they'd never been born.
The door creaked. Her long raspberry-red hair—no longer in its braid—snapped toward the sound as her head whipped around. Her emerald eyes widened as a grotesque Nomu crawled through the doorway, followed by Tomura Shigaraki's slow, deliberate steps.
"Well, Princess, you're awake and up," Shigaraki sneered, hands buried in his coat pockets.
Jess's eyes narrowed. "What do you want from me, Tomura Shigaraki?"
Shigaraki paused, intrigued. "Huh... you do know who I am."
He stepped closer. "Master wanted you captured. That's what happened. Apparently your family wronged him—and he doesn't let things slide. You've got power, Princess. He wants it."
Jess's fists clenched against her restraints as the Nomu crawled around her slowly, grunting.
"So here's the choice," Shigaraki said, tilting his head with a cold smirk. "You gonna be a good girl and let the Doctor take some blood? Or are you going to be difficult?"
His voice echoed off the concrete walls just as Dr. Garaki stepped forward, a bright, unsettling smile spreading across his face. "Morning, Princess. Ready for your blood to be drawn?"
Jess's emerald eyes narrowed sharply at the sight of that pathetic little doctor. Her gaze then flicked to the Nomu behind her, its grotesque form groaning low in the dim light. Biting her lip to keep from snarling, she realized she had no choice. She was quirkless, stripped of any advantage, and even with the extensive training she'd received from Frank and River, she was powerless in this moment. All she could do was steel herself and brace for what was coming.
"Fine..." she whispered, the word barely audible but heavy with reluctant acceptance.
Garaki laughed softly, a sound that sent a shiver down her spine as he stepped closer. Without hesitation, he grabbed her arm and began wrapping it with a tight band. He wiped the skin clean with a sterile alcohol pad, the cold sting prickling through her skin.
Jess tensed as the needle was prepared. The clinical coldness of the blood tubes made her stomach twist with unease. Garaki plunged the needle in smoothly, drawing her blood with practiced ease. She forced herself to remain still, biting her lip as the crimson fluid filled the tubes.
When he finished, Garaki withdrew the needle and swiftly secured the site. Without a word, he turned and exited the room, the Nomu lumbering after him.
Left alone, Jess frowned deeply, her gaze snapping to Tomura. "Let me go. You got your blood..." she said, voice strained but resolute.
Tomura's pale eyes roamed over her, cold and unreadable. Then they locked with hers, sharp and unwavering.
"You will be released when Master says so. Get comfortable, Princess," he said with finality. "You will be here for a while."
With that, he turned and strode away, the metal door clanging shut behind him, leaving Jess alone in the cold, silent room.
The spacious conference room at UA was unusually silent, the kind of quiet that settled before a storm. Sunlight filtered through the tall windows, casting long shadows across the polished table where the nation's top heroes sat. Each face was a mask of focus, their usual banter replaced by the weight of impending crisis.
Endeavor sat at the head of the table, his fiery gaze fixed forward, fingers steepled beneath his chin. Beside him, Mirko's sharp eyes darted from one hero to another, her posture taut with readiness. Edges of exhaustion lined their faces—too many battles fought, too many lives at stake.
The next day, The spacious conference room at UA was unusually silent, the kind of quiet that settled before a storm. Sunlight filtered through the tall windows, casting long shadows across the polished table where the nation's top professional heroes sat. Each face was a mask of focus, their usual banter replaced by the weight of impending crisis.
Endeavor sat at the head of the table, his fiery gaze fixed forward, fingers steepled beneath his chin. Beside him, Mirko's sharp eyes darted from one hero to another, her posture taut with readiness. Edges of exhaustion lined their faces—too many battles fought, too many lives at stake.
A sudden ripple of movement caught everyone's attention. Hawks entered, his crimson wings folding behind him like a cloak, his expression grim but controlled. The room hushed further as he approached the podium, setting down a slim datapad.
"I won't waste your time," Hawks began, voice steady but low. "Yesterday morning, the 2nd Crowned Princess of Celtica, Jessica Lightning Mikcloud, was abducted shortly after deplaning at Haneda Airport. The operation was swift and precise. We still have no confirmed information on who is responsible."
A murmur rippled through the room. Endeavor's brow furrowed deeply, Mirko's eyes narrowed with concern.
Hawks continued, "Some speculate the Paranormal Liberation Front could be involved, but I personally don't believe it's them. Their tactics don't quite match this operation, and no group has claimed responsibility. The motives behind the kidnapping remain unclear, but given her status, this is a high-stakes situation that could have serious repercussions."
Endeavor clenched his fists, jaw tightening. "What do we know about the captors' location?"
"Currently unknown," Hawks admitted, flipping through the datapad. "The kidnappers used advanced anti-surveillance technology and moved quickly underground. We've increased all sky patrols and activated signal intercepts, but they've left minimal traces."
Mirko leaned forward, voice firm. "So what's our next move? We can't just sit here."
Endeavor's voice cut through the tension. "No. Hawks, coordinate with the Hero Commission and UA's staff. Prepare an emergency response team. We can't let this go unanswered."
Mirko nodded. "We need to protect other potential targets and ensure the public stays calm."
Hawks met each of their gazes, determination hardening his features. "I've already notified international partners. Lord Frank Valkyrie and the royal Helicarrier are enroute. James and Dawn Kuran, the Princess's parents, are also mobilizing."
The room fell silent again, the enormity of the situation settling over them like a shadow.
Endeavor spoke finally, voice resolute. "This is a threat not just to a single family, but to global peace. We must act swiftly and decisively."
As Hawks stepped down, the heroes exchanged determined glances. The battle ahead was not just one of strength, but of strategy, unity, and hope.
The room was tense and quiet. Around a large conference table sat the Top 10 Pro Heroes, the Commission President, and the Emperor of Japan. All eyes were fixed on the entrance.
Endeavor leaned forward. "Whoever did this planned it carefully. We need to find her, fast."
The doors opened. Three figures entered.
Frank Valkyrie, the Angelic Knight and 1st Grand Knight of Celtica, stepped in, his posture commanding but controlled. Behind him walked Dawn Mikcloud Kuran, the 1st Crowned Princess of Celtica and mother to Princess Jess and Prince Sora. Following them was James Kuran, Duke of Celtica, Jess and Sora's father, his expression calm but resolute.
The room rose in respect as the Emperor of Japan gave a nod of acknowledgment.
Frank spoke first. "We appreciate Japan's cooperation. Jess has been taken from your soil. We will do everything to bring her home safely."
Dawn's emerald eyes never left the hologram. "Time is critical. Every minute counts."
James added, "We need full access to any intel you have. If the kidnapper is familiar with her or our family, they won't hesitate to use it."
The Commission President nodded. "We will share all we have. Surveillance, informants, data streams — you'll have it all."
The Emperor rose from his seat, his presence commanding silence in the room. His voice was calm but carried the weight of centuries of diplomacy. "The union between our nations through Princess Yume and the Mikcloud family means this is more than politics. It is a family matter." His gaze swept across the gathered heroes and officials, making it clear this was personal, not just procedural.
Frank Valkyrie inclined his head in agreement. "Hawks doesn't believe it's the League or the Liberation Front—whatever name they're using these days." His tone was steady, but his eyes held the tension of someone used to carrying heavy burdens.
All eyes shifted to Hawks. He gave a slight nod, the usual confident swagger replaced by seriousness. "I don't believe they did it. I've been tracking their movements closely, and this operation doesn't fit their style—too clean, too precise." He paused, then cast a quick glance toward the Commission President.
She let out a weary sigh and met the room's gaze. "We signed Hawks to inflate the threat of the League. To keep public attention focused and justify increased security measures." Her words hit like a cold splash of water, and the room shifted uncomfortably.
Endeavor slammed his fist on the table, making the glasses tremble. "You're serious? You sent him into a dangerous mission without telling us?!" His voice echoed sharply, the shock and frustration clear.
The room thickened with tension as the weight of the revelation settled. The heroes exchanged looks—some incredulous, others quietly fuming. The Commission President ran a weary hand through her hair, the burden of secrecy etched into her expression. "Classified, Endeavor. The fewer people who knew he was on this mission, the better."
A heavy silence hung in the air until Hawks finally broke it, his tone calm but resolute. "We need to shift our focus. Whoever took Princess Jess has resources, intelligence, and motives unlike anything we've seen before. We can't waste time chasing false leads or distractions."
Frank stepped forward, his voice low but unwavering. "Then we hunt the truth, no matter where it leads. No more games."
The room fell into a heavy quiet—a fragile stillness amid the storm. Outside, the city continued its steady rhythm, unaware of the delicate balance maintained within these walls.
A week had stretched endlessly in the cold, dimly lit room where Jess hung, chained by the ceiling. The rough stone walls pressed in around her, cold and unforgiving, the air thick with dampness and stale scent. The faint cobalt pulse of the Luminite cuffs wrapped tightly around her wrists was the only source of light, casting an eerie glow over the small space.
Food was passed to her through a narrow hatch in the heavy steel door—bland, barely enough to keep her alive. No friendly face ever accompanied it, no words of comfort or explanation. In all this time, she had only seen one person: Tomura Shigaraki. His presence was like a shadow hanging over her, cold and unyielding.
Her skin itched with grime and sweat, layered with days of neglect. The chains bit into her wrists and shoulders, and her muscles ached from the unnatural position. A shower, a warm bath—anything that resembled normal human comfort—was a memory fading fast. Desperation clawed at her mind, mingling with the rage that burned fiercely beneath her skin.
Suddenly, the door creaked open, breaking the oppressive silence. A small Nomu shuffled inside, its grotesque, misshapen body moving with awkward purpose. Its sunken eyes and twisted limbs gave it a hauntingly silent presence. It approached her slowly, as if expecting her to be its prisoner's caretaker.
Jess bit her lip, narrowing her emerald eyes with a fierce, defiant glare at the creature. The 'mess' it came to collect was hers, and the humiliation stoked a fire in her gut.
Before she could react further, Tomura stepped through the doorway, his slow, deliberate footsteps echoing faintly on the cold floor. His pale eyes locked onto hers, gleaming with a mix of amusement and malice. "Why such a narrow look?" he asked, the corners of his lips curling into a twisted smirk.
Jess's voice dropped low, filled with barely contained fury. "Let me go."
The room seemed to hold its breath as those words hung between them—defiant, raw, and unbroken despite the chains. Tomura's smirk deepened, but there was something in her gaze that made him pause. A flicker of respect—or perhaps something darker—passed through his eyes.
The Nomu moved closer, but Jess squared her shoulders, her resolve hardening. No matter how long this hell lasted, she wouldn't give them the satisfaction of breaking her spirit.
Tomura turned away from Jess, his smirk fading as he stepped past the small Nomu that waddled to the side, waiting silently. The heavy door clanged shut behind him, sealing Jess back into her cold prison. His footsteps echoed hollowly down the sterile corridor of the underground lab, each step weighted with reluctant purpose.
As he passed the rows of humming equipment and flickering monitors, the sharp, familiar voice of Dr. Kyudai Garaki cut through the quiet. "Tomura," the doctor called without looking up from his workstation.
Tomura groaned, exasperated. "What?" he snapped, barely concealing his irritation.
Garaki finally raised his gaze, eyes calm and unwavering beneath the respirator mask. "All For One wants you to begin her discipline."
Tomura blinked, the word hanging awkwardly in the air. "Discipline...?"
"Yes, Tomura," Garaki replied firmly, voice measured. "Her family wronged the Master—nearly killed him years ago. This is his command."
Tomura's eyes dropped to the floor, a shadow crossing his pale features. 'Discipline...?'
"Are you sure he wants that done?" Tomura asked, his voice quieter, tinged with a rare uncertainty.
Garaki's nod was resolute. "Yes. No question."
A heavy silence settled between them, the weight of the order pressing down on Tomura's shoulders. He rubbed the back of his neck, exhaling slowly. The cold truth was undeniable—this was no ordinary hostage situation. It was vengeance wrapped in control, and Jess was the pawn.
With a curt nod, Tomura turned away and continued down the corridor, his mind already wrestling with the task ahead.
Tomura's breath came uneven as he made his way back down the dim corridor. The weight of the orders pressed heavily on him. His hand trembled slightly as he reached Jess's cell and slid the door open.
Jess looked up, her emerald eyes sharp and wary. She sat on the cold floor, chains softly clinking as she shifted. "What do you want now?" she asked quietly, voice edged with exhaustion but still defiant.
Tomura's gaze hardened, his voice low and steady. "Your family almost killed my Master. Discipline must be enforced."
Jess's eyes widened, the meaning sinking in as she watched the door close behind him, the heavy steel thudding shut. The hallway fell into an eerie silence, broken only by the faint hum of distant machinery.
In the underground lab, Dr. Kyudai Garaki sat calmly, listening. Suddenly, a scream echoed sharply through the corridors—piercing and raw, filled with pain and defiance. The doctor chuckled quietly to himself, his fingers steepled before him.
Upstairs, the atmosphere shifted in an instant. Just seconds before, Himiko Toga was giggling at the big screen, Twice nervously pressing buttons on a frantic Mario Kart race, and Spinner teasing Twice relentlessly.
But then, as a sudden downpour began outside and thunder rolled across the sky, everything froze.
Dabi, leaning against a rain-speckled window, tensed as the scream sliced through the air—a horrific, unmistakable cry from below.
No one moved.
The sound belonged to the Princess.
Chapter 2
Notes:
(Warning: A Sexual scene at the end of the chapter)
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Another week passed.
The world was no longer silent.
The kidnapping of the Second Crowned Princess of Celtica—Jessica Lightning Mikcloud—had made headlines across every major news network. From the towering skylines of Musutafu to the marble halls of Celtica’s capital, the story had spread like wildfire. Every screen lit up with her name. Royal emblems flashed alongside grainy surveillance footage. Speculations ran rampant. Fear and outrage swelled with every passing hour.
At U.A., behind the closed door of his dorm room, Izuku Midoriya sat frozen on the edge of his bed. His fists clenched so tightly they trembled against his thighs, knuckles paling. His emerald eyes were locked on the television mounted on the wall, where yet another broadcast repeated the same haunting headline.
“Celtican Princess Missing—International Crisis Brews in Japan.”
A photo of Jess appeared—her raspberry-red hair braided over her shoulder, dressed in royal green with a bright smile that now felt like a punch to the chest.
He stared at her image as though trying to will her to safety.
“Jess…” he whispered, the name barely more than breath. It sounded foreign coming from his mouth, like a memory he wasn’t supposed to acknowledge. “I swear I’ll find out who took you…”
The camera shifted to a press briefing in Celtica. Behind a sea of microphones stood Prince Yuki, stoic and composed, flanked by members of the royal guard. His light lavender eyes held barely restrained fury.
“We will not rest until Princess Jess is returned,” Yuki declared, his voice sharp as a blade, echoing across continents. “This is not merely a national matter—it is family. And we do not abandon family.”
Izuku's grip tightened.
Family.
The word echoed in his mind, louder than Yuki’s broadcast. It was the part of his truth no one knew—could never know. Not All Might. Not even Shoto.
The screen abruptly shifted to outside U.A.'s gates, now mobbed with reporters. Cameras flashed. Microphones jutted forward. Voices overlapped in a whirlwind of questions.
“Do the pro heroes have any leads?”
“Has the League claimed responsibility?”
“Is Celtica deploying forces into Japan?”
“Will U.A. be involved in the investigation?”
Izuku hit mute.
The silence in the room swallowed him. The image of the press conference stayed frozen on the screen, but the sound—everything that mattered—was gone. Just like Jess.
A soft knock at his door broke through the fog.
He turned, eyes still shadowed with grief.
Shoto stood in the doorway, arms crossed, expression unreadable but his concern unmistakable.
“Izuku… what’s wrong?”
Izuku hesitated. He wanted to lie, to brush it off. But the words wouldn’t come. Not this time.
Instead, he turned back toward the screen, then down at his trembling hands.
“It’s Jess… That’s her name. The girl that was kidnapped.”
Shoto stepped further into the room, his gaze drifting to the frozen image on the screen. The bright smile of the 2nd Crowned Princess felt haunting now.
“You knew her? The 2nd crowned Princess..? How..?”
Izuku didn’t answer right away. He couldn’t. The question twisted in his chest like a blade. Telling the truth risked everything—and yet staying silent felt like a betrayal.
“She’s… important,” he finally said, voice tight. “And I can’t stand sitting here while the whole world watches and does nothing.”
Shoto’s jaw tensed, his eyes narrowing slightly—not in suspicion, but in shared frustration.
“You’re not the only one who wants answers,” he said quietly. “But we can’t just go out and act like vigilantes right now… I’m sure the pro heroes and the royal guard are already searching for her.”
Izuku looked down, fists clenching on his knees. “Yeah… but what if they’re not fast enough?”
Shoto sat beside him without a word, shoulder brushing his.
“They’ll find her, Izuku,” he said with quiet conviction. “And if they don’t—then we will.”
That promise hung in the air between them like a vow.
The villa was no longer quiet.
Jess’s screams echoed through the halls like phantom cries—no speakers, no tech. Just her voice, raw and piercing, finding its way into every room like a curse that couldn't be ignored.
Mr. Compress couldn’t take it. His gloved hand clenched, and he muttered something under his breath before slipping out the front door, needing distance, needing silence.
Twice and Spinner had left under the excuse of getting snacks, but they took the long way around—far away from the halls, the walls, the sound. Even their usual banter was absent.
Geten stood outside alone, staring at the lake. With a single breath, he froze the surface, watching the ice spider out in angry cracks. But even that satisfying crunch didn’t calm the storm in his chest.
Upstairs, Toga sat curled in the corner of her room, knees hugged tightly to her chest. Her usual smile was gone. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she rocked back and forth, whispering, “Make it stop… make it stop…”
And Dabi… Dabi was breaking.
He sat on the floor of his room, back against the wall, hands buried in his hair as if trying to claw out the memories. But they came anyway—flashbacks he thought he’d buried. His mother’s screams. Shoto’s cries. The way his little brother begged their father to stop.
“Damn it…” he whispered, shaking. “What the hell is he thinking…?”
The scream rang out again, sharper, like it cut through him.
“Tomura Shigaraki… you are out of your mind…”
He didn’t move. He couldn’t. Because for the first time in a long time, Dabi was afraid—not for himself, but for someone else.
And deep down, he knew this was only the beginning.
The screams had stopped.
Tomura stepped out of the room, quietly shutting the door behind him. He stood there for a moment, his hand still on the knob, his back leaning heavily against the cold metal. His breath was uneven, trembling. His heart pounded—not with satisfaction, not with anger—but with something else.
Doubt.
Why are you doing this…?
The question slithered through his mind like a snake. But the answer came just as fast.
Because Master said so. She hurt him. Her family hurt him. Years ago. She deserves this.
That voice, cold and convincing, kept repeating in his head like a broken record trying to drown out the guilt pressing against his chest.
He closed his eyes and inhaled slowly.
He needed a break. Some quiet. A distraction. Maybe a few games with his headset on. Something—anything—to make him forget the weight of what he’d just done.
Footsteps echoed lightly against the stone floors. The Doctor emerged from the shadows, a white case in his hands, smeared faintly with crimson. He didn’t even flinch as he passed Tomura, eyes fixed on the door.
“She needs time to heal,” the Doctor said simply, crouching down to set the kit by the door. “Take a break for a week, Tomura. Let the damage settle.”
Tomura said nothing, his jaw clenched tight.
The Doctor glanced at him and gave a curt nod. “Don’t worry. This is a good thing, Tomura. She’ll learn.”
He turned and walked away, the sound of his footsteps fading into the hallway.
Tomura remained still, staring at the wall across from him, as if trying to anchor himself in the silence.
But even in that silence… he could still hear the echo of her scream.
Tomura’s footsteps echoed hollowly as he ascended the stairs, the weight of the past hours settling heavily on his shoulders. The upper floor was unnervingly quiet, stripped of the usual restless energy that accompanied the Liberation’s lieutenants.
Spinner and Twice had left for their errands hours ago, Compress hadn’t returned from his walk, and Geten remained outside, likely brooding near the frozen lake. The only signs of life were muffled sounds drifting from down the hall—Toga’s quiet sobbing and Dabi’s low, restless pacing in his room.
The emptiness pressed on Tomura like a physical force. His pale eyes scanned the dimly lit lounge, its polished surfaces and scattered remnants of neglected meals offering no comfort. Without hesitation, he veered away from his room, heading straight toward the wet bar nestled in the corner like a forgotten relic.
His fingers closed around a bottle of dark whiskey, cool glass slick beneath his touch. He pulled off the cap and tilted the bottle to his lips, swallowing down the sharp burn that cut through the haze clouding his mind. It was a fleeting balm, a razor’s edge that momentarily sliced through the turmoil threatening to overwhelm him.
Leaning heavily against the bar, Tomura’s breath hitched as he stared blankly at the muted glow of the city skyline beyond the rain-streaked windows. The storm outside mirrored the one inside him—a turbulent mix of anger, doubt, and a gnawing sense of inevitability.
“Because Master said so…” he muttered, the phrase repeating like a chant in his mind, both a justification and a chain. He rubbed a hand over his face, as if trying to scrub away the ghost of the screams still echoing in his ears.
The room remained silent, Tomura’s grip tightened around the bottle, knuckles whitening. He closed his eyes, willing the chaos within to still, if only for a moment.
But the weight of orders, of loyalty, of vengeance pressed on—unrelenting, unforgiving.
Tomura nursed the whiskey, the burn doing little to dull the heavy weight in his chest. The silence was broken by the soft hum of wheels on stone. Re-Destro rolled into the room, his imposing frame framed by the dim light, the sleek lines of his high-tech wheelchair gleaming under the low lamps.
“Tomura...?” Re-Destro’s voice was calm but carried an edge of concern.
Tomura turned, his tired eyes meeting the steady gaze of his old ally. “Mhmm...?” he muttered, voice rough.
Re-Destro’s expression hardened as he studied Tomura’s weary posture. “I have to ask... why is she here?” His tone grew sharper, “Why the... torture? Why the screams? You’re crossing a line, Shigaraki.”
Tomura’s eyes widened slightly, a flicker of unease flashing beneath the fatigue. He took a slow breath, his voice low and defensive. “It’s not torture. It’s discipline. Master said to do it.”
Re-Destro’s gaze didn’t waver, but his jaw clenched tightly. “Discipline or not, those screams carry farther than you think. This isn’t the way to break her—or us. We risk losing more than just control.”
Tomura swallowed hard, the conflict etched in his features. “Master’s orders are clear. Her family hurt him. She has to pay. This is the cost.”
Re-Destro shook his head, the wheels of his chair whirring softly as he leaned in. “Be careful, Tomura. There are consequences you can’t yet see. Even Master isn’t infallible.”
For a moment, the room was still again—two shadows bound by loyalty but divided by doubt.
Tomura’s grip tightened on the glass in his hand. “I’ll do what’s needed,” he said quietly, “no matter what.”
The room was dimly lit, shadows pooling in the corners as dusk settled over the Celtican Embassy. Dawn sat curled up on the plush velvet couch, knees drawn to her chest, her emerald eyes distant and haunted. Weeks had passed since Jess’s disappearance, and the weight of uncertainty pressed heavily on her.
Across the room, James stood by the sleek video console, his brow furrowed as he spoke into the call. The screen flickered to life, revealing King Jetter Falcon Mikcloud—stern, regal, his piercing green eyes fixed intently on James.
“I want my niece found, James,” Jetter’s voice was calm but firm. “Do I have to send the entire royal guard to Japan?”
James shook his head slowly, the tension in his jaw evident. “No, Your Majesty. It wouldn’t be wise to escalate it with a full military presence. That could complicate things further.”
Jetter’s gaze sharpened, scrutinizing James through the screen. “How is Dawn holding up?”
James glanced behind him, catching the fragile figure of his wife on the couch. Dawn’s fingers clenched the fabric of her sleeve as she fought to keep herself together.
“I’m trying to keep her from going nuclear,” James admitted quietly. “She’s struggling, but holding on. Our son, Sora, is already on his way here. He said he will be heading into the underground criminal networks in Japan to dig for any leads.”
Jetter nodded, a shadow of concern crossing his face. “Good. We can’t afford to lose hope. The longer Jess is gone, the harder it will get.”
James’s eyes flicked back to Dawn. “We’ll bring her home.”
The video call ended, leaving the room heavy with silence—a silence filled only by the steady pulse of determination beneath their grief.
The low hum of distant sirens and muffled shouting seeped through the cracked walls of the dimly lit warehouse. Broken crates and shattered glass littered the floor. Sora Mikcloud Kuran sat cold and calm on a threadbare couch, his dark eyes sharp beneath the heavy shadows. Around him, thugs groaned in pain, nursing broken ribs and bruises. A few lay still—silence where their defiance had once been.
In the center of the chaos, a trembling figure knelt on the floor: the notorious kingpin of Japan’s criminal underworld. His usual bravado was stripped away, replaced with fear as his gaze locked with Sora’s unflinching stare.
They called Sora the ‘Deadly Nightshade’ — a ghost haunting the darkest corners of the city, as ruthless and precise as the toxin he was named for. But to this man, Sora was no stranger. Like father, like son. The assassin blood ran deep.
Sora’s voice cut through the silence, low and icy. “So… have you heard anything about my dear baby sister’s kidnapping?”
The kingpin swallowed hard, shaking his head frantically. “No! I swear, I’ve heard nothing. It’s been on every damn news channel — but if I knew anything, I would tell you.”
Sora’s gaze sharpened, cutting through the thick, stale air like a blade. The kingpin trembled as Sora rose from the couch, the weight of his presence swallowing the room whole. Silently, Sora reached out, his gloved hand gripping the man’s chin and forcing his eyes to meet his own.
“You’re going to help me find her,” Sora said, voice low but lethal. “You’re the kingpin of Japan’s underworld. My father saved your life years ago. Don’t make him regret it.”
The kingpin swallowed hard, sweat beading on his forehead.
“You and your crew will get me every scrap of information you have on my baby sister’s whereabouts. If you fail…” Sora’s grip tightened just enough to send a shiver down the man’s spine. “I’ll come back. And next time, my father won’t be there to save you. You hear me, worm?”
A heavy silence settled over the room as the kingpin nodded frantically, eyes wide with fear and begrudging respect.
Sora released him and stepped back, cold and calculating.
“Good. Now, start searching.”
Tomura slumped into the worn leather chair in his dimly lit room, the pale glow from the news broadcast washing over his tired face. On his computer screen, this news, the city lights flickered beneath the massive shadow of the Celtican Helicarrier hovering ominously over Tokyo. The headline scrolled beneath the anchor’s voice: “Celtica Deploys Helicarrier Amidst Princess Jess’s Kidnapping Crisis.”
His eyes stayed glued to the screen, watching as reporters speculated about the political fallout and the mounting tensions between nations. But all Tomura could think was how much of a pawn Jess had become in this game—how a single person could throw so many lives into chaos.
“All this... for a princess,” he muttered under his breath, voice rough with exhaustion and something darker—resentment, maybe.
His phone suddenly buzzed against the side table, jolting him out of his thoughts. He grabbed it, his fingers twitching as he unlocked the screen. A message from the Doctor: “She’s running a fever but discipline will not be afforded.”
Tomura’s breath hitched slightly as he read the cold words. The weight of the command bore down on him like a physical force. No matter the cost, no matter her suffering—Master’s orders were absolute.
His eyes drifted away from the phone, gazing into the dark corners of the room where silence seemed to press in. The heavy responsibility clawed at his mind. Was this really necessary? Was this truly the way to make amends for the past?
The answer was a cold echo: Because Master said so.
He clenched his fists, nails digging into his palms, struggling against the growing storm of doubt and the relentless pull of loyalty. He knew what was expected of him. And yet—
The phone buzzed again. Another message from the Doctor: “Prepare for next session. No delays.”
Tomura let out a long, hollow sigh and stared back at the news screen. The world outside continued to turn, but inside him, a war was raging—a war between duty and the faint, stubborn flicker of humanity still buried deep beneath the chaos.
Tomura pushed open his door and stepped into the dimly lit hallway. The air was thick with tension, an uneasy quiet pressing down on everything. He stopped dead in his tracks as he spotted Hawks leaning casually against the wall, arms crossed but eyes sharp.
Shit. Hawks was here. He couldn’t do anything to the Princess while he was around.
His mind raced—there was no way he could act with Hawks present.
“Hawks,” Tomura’s voice was low, cautious. “Why are you here?”
Hawks glanced up, an awkward smile flickering across his face. “Uhm… I have the flash drive.” He held it up between his fingers, almost like it was an afterthought.
Tomura blinked, recognition flashing through him. Oh, the information on the black markets… “You were supposed to give that to Dabi. Where is he?”
Hawks shrugged, his gaze sweeping the hallway. The usual energy of the inner circle was strangely absent—Toga was nowhere to be seen, missing her typical wide-eyed grin that usually greeted him. Dabi wasn’t around either, and the others avoided eye contact or looked away, their faces somber.
Hawks frowned. “Why is everyone looking like someone died?” then Hawks’s voice dropped, tense. “Did one of your members die?”
Tomura bit his lip, forcing himself to meet Hawks’s eyes. “Yes,” he said quietly. “Today is not a good day to be here, Hawks. Take the flash drive and leave… hero.”
Hawks’s smile faded into a genuine frown. He tossed the flash drive toward him with a flick of his wrist. “I’m sorry for your loss, Tomura. Just let me know what you need next—and I’ll be here in a flash.”
Tomura caught the flash drive, his fingers tightening around it as a cold, familiar weight settled in his chest. The plastic casing felt heavier than it should, like it carried more than just information—like it carried expectations, surveillance, risk. He didn’t move until Hawks disappeared through the door, his silhouette swallowed by the grey drizzle outside. Only then did Tomura’s shoulders ease, if only slightly.
His gaze slid over to Skeptic, who lingered nearby. The man was visibly tense, hands fidgeting with the edge of his laptop, eyes flicking between Tomura and the front entrance like something might burst back through it.
Tomura narrowed his eyes. “Is he fully gone?”
Skeptic’s head snapped up. “Yeah. Gone. I ran a thermal scan the second the door shut—no feathers, no surveillance devices. He didn’t leave anything behind this time.”
Tomura didn’t speak for a second. His fingers curled tighter around the flash drive before slipping it into his pocket. “Good,” he muttered, his voice flat. “I don’t need him here for this.”
Skeptic hesitantly, something still clearly on his mind. “You think he suspects anything?”
Tomura’s jaw tightened. “He suspects everything. That’s the problem. He smiles like he’s harmless, like he’s just passing through, but he’s watching—always calculating. I don’t trust him not to act if he finds out.”
Without another word, he turned and headed toward the stairwell, his boots heavy against the floor. The weight of the entire villa seemed to shift with each step he took downward, away from the quiet tension upstairs and toward the cold hum of the basement levels.
He didn’t look back.
Tomura’s footsteps echoed in the dim hallway as he descended the stairs, each step slower than the last, weighed down by the mounting pressure he carried. The sterile scent of antiseptic grew stronger as he neared the lab—a cold, clinical space humming with fluorescent light and mechanical whirs. Inside, the doctor was bent over a monitor, fingers flying across controls, but his eyes flicked up briefly as Tomura passed by. No words exchanged; the tension between them was a silent agreement.
The corridor beyond the lab stretched into near darkness, broken only by the faint glow of the door at the end. Jess’s room. Tomura’s gaze fixed there, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his features—doubt, frustration, or perhaps the echo of a voice that was not quite his own.
He stopped just outside the heavy metal door, hands balled into fists at his sides. The faintest sound seeped through. For a moment, he hesitated, breathing shallow. Then, with a sudden, almost violent movement, he pushed the door open and stepped inside.
The cold air hit him first, thick and unyielding. Jess knelt on the cold floor, legs spread slightly for balance, her wrists stretched upward, bound tightly in glowing chains that bit into her skin. The restraints were no longer loose—they held her firmly, restricting movement but not breaking her spirit. Her posture remained guarded yet defiant, and despite the exhaustion darkening her features, her emerald eyes burned with a fierce, dull green light.
Their eyes met, and for a fleeting moment, an unspoken challenge passed between them. Her gaze was sharp, unwavering.
“What do you want now?” Her voice was low and steady, edged with a quiet steel that refused to break.
Tomura said nothing at first. He leaned against the doorframe, the weight of the moment pressing down like the shadows gathering in the corners of the room. Slowly, he shut the door softly behind him.
“You have a fever today,” he said quietly, his voice barely more than a murmur.
Jess’s eyes narrowed, flashing with bitterness. “That’s what happens when you leave me in barely anything… it’s cold down here… no shower, no decent bathroom. You’re cold and heartless, aren’t you?”
Tomura’s eyes drifted around the dim room, the cold concrete walls, the bare metal bed pushed into a corner, the stained floor beneath Jess’s knees. He could see what she meant—any decent mental hospital would offer a better space than this bleak cell. A faint pang of something—regret? frustration?—tightened in his chest.
“I’ll see what I can do to switch rooms,” he said quietly, voice rougher than usual. “And… get you a shower.”
Jess looked up sharply, surprise flickering in her tired eyes. But almost immediately, she looked away, skepticism settling back in. “Huh… I’ll believe it when it happens.”
Tomura took a slow step closer. Jess flinched slightly at the movement, tension coiling in the small space between them.
“So, it’s that time, huh? My so-called discipline?” Her voice was low, tinged with defiance.
He stopped mid-step, biting his lip. For some reason, the usual grim resolve wasn’t there. The urge to carry it out felt distant, clouded.
Without another word, he turned sharply and walked to the door. He opened it and stepped into the hallway, his voice carrying softly back to her, “I’ll give you two days to rest.”
The door closed behind him with a muted click, leaving Jess alone in the cold silence once again.
The heavy door closed behind Tomura with a muted click, plunging Jess back into the cold, oppressive silence of the room. The faint hum of the dim lights overhead seemed louder now—empty and cruel. Tomura leaned his back against the door, the chill of the metal seeping through his clothes as his thoughts spun in restless circles. It was the right decision, wasn’t it? She had a fever. She needed to be cared for properly. She needed a warm shower, a clean bed, and a place where the cold wouldn’t gnaw at her skin through threadbare clothes. Why had she been denied something so basic all this time? The question hammered at his mind, nagging like a shadow he couldn’t shake.
He pushed off from the door and walked briskly down the hallway, his footsteps echoing in the stark silence. The lab was usually a mess of humming machines and cold light—but now, when he arrived, it sat empty. No sign of the doctor. Probably at the hospital’s other lab, like usual. Tomura’s fingers flexed around his phone, and with a flick, he pulled it out and dialed.
The line connected quickly, the doctor’s voice crackling through with that familiar, almost mocking cheer. “Hey! Tomura, you’re lucky—I’m on break and actually in my office. What’s going on, my boy?”
Tomura’s voice was quieter, rougher than usual. “Jess needs a proper shower and a better room with a real bathroom. She’s running a fever... and I’m not disciplining her today. I don’t care what you say about it.”
There was a brief pause, heavy with unspoken thoughts. Then the doctor responded, more serious now. “I see. Well, that’s... different. But if you’re saying she needs rest, I’m not going to argue. We’ll set up a new room, somewhere warmer. And the shower—consider it arranged.”
Tomura exhaled slowly, feeling a tension in his shoulders ease just a little. It wasn’t much, but it was a start. “Good. She needs that....”
He ended the call and pocketed his phone, his mind flickering back to the room where Jess waited, alone and sick. Something in his chest twisted, a strange ache he didn’t want to admit to. He was supposed to be her captor, her tormentor. But she was still human—still alive. And maybe, just maybe, that meant something.
Turning, he made his way back through the sterile corridors, a plan already forming. No matter what came next, Jess would at least have a warm shower. A better room. A little dignity.
A couple of days passed in strained quiet. The base never truly slept, but at this late hour, the halls were still, cloaked in a heavy hush. Most of the League's members had turned in, the low hum of machines the only sign of life in the underground compound.
Jess’s new room was better—but only just. The cold, rust-stained concrete of her old cell had been traded for a space that looked more like a single-occupant prison unit. The air wasn’t freezing anymore, at least. A thin futon lay neatly on the floor, hardly plush but better than the bare stone she’d been left with before. In the corner, a toilet sat behind a partial wall, finally offering her some semblance of privacy. It wasn’t luxury, but it was a step above humiliation.
Yet despite the changes, one thing remained the same: the chains. They still hung from the ceiling, metal links slightly looser than before but unforgiving all the same. Her arms were bound above her, forcing her to sit awkwardly or kneel for hours. Sleep came in short, uncomfortable bursts. Her muscles ached constantly.
The faint light above flickered as if trying to fall asleep itself. She sat beneath it, eyes closed, hair damp from the shower she'd been allowed earlier that evening. For the first time in weeks, warm water had touched her skin. Real soap. A clean towel. It almost made her cry. Almost.
Toga had been assigned to guard her now—only during shower time. At least it wasn’t one of the men. That was something. Toga didn’t speak much during her watch, but there was an odd, almost sisterly air to her presence.
Inside the room, Jess stirred slightly on the futon, shifting as far as the chains would allow. Her fever had broken the night before, though exhaustion still hung in her limbs like a heavy blanket. She stared at the far wall, the dull gray broken only by the scratchy shadow her body cast under the pale light.
She knew this wasn’t over. Not by a long shot. Tomura’s mercy came like weather—random, brief, and never without a storm to follow. But for now, she had a small breath of peace. A shower. A futon. No pain. No discipline.
It wasn’t freedom—but it wasn’t nothing.
Toga walked slowly down the dim hallway, her footsteps light against the concrete. Her arms were folded tightly across her chest as if shielding herself from a chill that wouldn’t go away. She was heading back to her room, still a little damp from the steam of the shower room she had guarded—quietly, dutifully.
Her room was close to Dabi’s.
As she passed his door, it creaked open. She froze. Her eyes lifted slowly to meet his.
Dabi stood there in the doorway, one hand braced against the frame, his dark brows drawn low. His usually unreadable expression was tight with something harder to place—anger, maybe. Guilt, definitely. He didn’t say anything at first. He didn’t have to. He knew where she’d just come from.
Toga looked away, trying to keep her face from crumpling, but the tremble in her lip gave her away.
“Toga…” Dabi said quietly, his voice low, more serious than usual.
She sniffled. “I don’t like it, Dabi-kun… I mean, yeah—it’s better than one of the guys watching her, but…” Her arms tightened around herself. “The bruises. I didn’t think Tomura would actually go that far.”
She swallowed hard, fighting the rising lump in her throat.
“I came from an abusive home,” she added, voice shaking. “Spinner did too. Tomura said he did, back before AFO took him in… So why would he do this? Why would he turn into the very thing he hated?”
Dabi’s expression shifted—more shadowed than usual, haunted. His jaw tightened.
“Same,” he said simply.
Toga blinked and looked up at him, startled. “What?”
He didn’t elaborate. He didn’t have to. The silence stretched between them, heavy with shared histories neither of them ever talked about. Not fully. Not honestly.
Toga’s eyes shimmered. “You think AFO’s… doing something to him?”
Dabi’s mouth twitched. “I think… there’s more going on in that head than even he knows.”
A long pause settled between them, heavy as the air around them.
Toga nodded slowly, then took a step forward. Her voice was quieter now, almost brittle. “I just hope… he remembers who he is before it’s too late. I’ve noticed he doesn’t do it when Hawkies is here…”
Dabi looked away, jaw tightening. “Yeah,” he muttered. “I noticed too…”
Then it hit—the sound that cracked the stillness like a blade.
A scream.
Sharp, human, raw with pain.
It echoed through the hallway like the wail of a dying animal, tearing at their ears.
Dabi’s breath caught. Toga froze—then choked back a sob and took off, sprinting down the hall. She slammed her door shut behind her with a force that made the walls shudder.
Another scream followed, high and desperate. The Princess.
Dabi slipped wordlessly into his own room and shut the door behind him. The echo of the sound still rang in his ears.
He stood there for a moment in the dark, unmoving.
Then, slowly, he walked to the edge of his bed and sat down stiffly. His hands came up and dug into his scalp, fingers clutching his hair, his jaw clenched so tight it ached.
He closed his eyes—and the memories crashed into him like waves.
A flash of red and white hair, a tiny hand reaching for him—
“Touya-nii!!”
Five-year-old Shoto, screaming for him with snot running down his face as Endeavor dragged him out of the training room. His little brother’s fingers just barely brushing his sleeve before he was ripped away.
Then a jump through time—thirteen-year-old Touya, fists balled, cheeks red with rage as he yelled at their father across the living room floor.
“Don’t train him today! It’s beach day! Just let him go play, damn it!”
Enji had ignored him, of course. Like always.
And now here he was.
Sitting in a villain hideout. Listening to another scream. Different person. Different pain.
Same helpless rage boiling under his skin.
Downstairs, Jess hanged from the ceiling, she was on her feet shaking. The Chains making her on her feet as their where pulled up to feet her on that position... She had been forced to strip into nothing but her bra and panties.
Of course there was heater vent, keeping her warm unlike the old room. Tomura stood there looking at her as she pants and shakes with pain. Her discipline, what he was doing ot her since it first started. He was using his quirk to cause pain throughout her body not where it was decay her and fully damage her. staring at her more and more something in him sort of woke up.. Looking down at himself then looking back at her. Was this turning him on? his eyes slowly widen but his body moved on its own.
Closing the distance his hand gently touched her hip making her eyes widen at the suddenly closeness. Her face was against his chest, as the slight tingly of his quirk slowly ran through her hip making her shiver, this time it was no scream just a groaning noise. Tomura bites his lip, oh yeah he was totally turned on.
His hand slowly moved her face and leaned in. Jess didn't fight as the lips met and a soft gasp left her. Oh hell, it felt so good, like her pain was being sucked away.
She couldn't believe this. This was the guy that kidnapped her and was torturing her and she did not kiss back. She struggled slightly moved her leg up to knee him but he had grabbed it, sending that slight tingle of pain through of her leg making her groan in pain. His lips moved hers and traveled down to her neck. Jess's eyes widen "Stop... Stop..."
He didn't listen, his left hand that was holding her leg kept it up, his right hand moved and slowly cupped her D sized breasts, her Bra suddenly desegregate making her gasp "Don't.. Tomura...!" Still hanging from the ceiling struggled "Stop! This isn't... your so called discipline your master told you to give me! Stop it!"
"Discipline is discipline Princess." he whispers as his hand right hand moved down to her panties and his fingers slipped under them.
His eyes closed as his fingers moved between her legs, he could feel her heat.
"S-Stop.." Jess groaned her cheeks flushed and her heart raced. She didn't want this, but... It did feel good. She didn't understand how, but the way his fingers teased her slit sent electricity up her spine. His quirk did hurt, but the way he touched her... There was no horrible pain... only slight pain where it didn't make her scream.
Was his power weaker or was she building a tolerance? She didn't know. But it was a strange feeling... one that was both terrifying and exciting.
Tomura's right hand slid between her legs, his fingers rubbing against her pussy. Jess shuddered, biting her lip. He didn't stop. Instead, his fingers slipped inside, moving slowly, exploring.
"keep quiet Princess." Tomura says to her. Jess bites her lip "Please.. stop..." she pants "please... let me go.."
Tomura's eyes flicker up and he smirks, his fingers moving faster, deeper, rubbing and stroking. She was starting to get wet. He could feel her juices on his fingers. He didn't know if he wanted to eat her out or fuck her. Maybe both. He was really starting to love her pain. these chain's that are keeping her up like this are totally in the way.
Removing his fingers, Jess shakes 'is he finally finished...?' then her eyes widen as he hands moved up to the chains and they disintegrated, but the Luminite cuffs that blocking her quirk are still on her. Tomura's quirk can't destroy thoughs. Her arms fell down feeling tingly, they had fallen sleep do it being up for a while. She couldn't move her arms properly.
Her legs could barely keep her standing, her knees giving in. Tomura's arms wrapped around her, holding her up. She felt a cold shiver as he picked her up and placed her onto her single futon.
"Stop! Stop!" Jess yelled at him, but her words went unheard as Tomura's mouth kissed her neck, his hands gripping her hips tightly. He could feel her struggling, her body arching against him. She was so warm. And her skin was so smooth.
Tomura's lips trailed down to her collarbone, leaving small kisses as his fingers moved up to her chest. They caressed her breasts, squeezing and rubbing. Jess groans softly, her hands grasping at his shirt. "S-Stop!"
"I said to keep quiet..." Tomura says to her. He doesn't think the Doctor would actually like what he is doing... would his master, AFO say it’s okay?
He didn't know. He didn't care. His hands gripped her hips tightly as his mouth moved down to her stomach. He pressed his lips against her skin, leaving kisses along the way.
Jess whimpered softly. She couldn't stop him. She didn't have the strength to fight back. But even if she did, what could she do?
Tomura's mouth moved lower.
His lips brushed against her inner thigh, kissing gently. Then he moved higher, kissing her pussy through the fabric of her panties.
Jess bit her lip, trying to hold back her moan.
Tomura smiled and pulled the panties off. He tossed them aside. He looked at her exposed pussy. Hairless, beautiful.
He moved his mouth to her clit, licking and sucking gently.
In the lab, Dr. Garaki wondered why it got so quiet in the Princess cell. Was Tomura done disciplining her? sighing he clicks on his keyboard and the camera click on and his eyes widen at the screen and right away turned off. "Huh... I guess All for One's plain later on to breed her with Tomura is gonna happen quicker..." he leans back in his chair.
Jess's eyes widen as the tingly feeling came back, but this time it was stronger, more intense. It was almost overwhelming. She couldn't stop the groan that escaped her lips.
Tomura smirked. He could hear her moans. It turned him on even more. He moved his tongue deeper, licking her wet folds. His fingers moved up to her breasts, teasing her nipples. Jess gasped.
"Mmm... Princess... You're so wet..."
"St-Stop... I can't take it anymore... Don't do this to me.. Please... Shigaraki.. please.. Stop..." Jess groaned.
Tomura ignored her. His tongue licked her clit, swirling around her sensitive nub. He could taste her juices, feel her body shudder. She was so close. Leaning up and hovering over her, his lips came to her neck sucking on it.
Tomura's finger moved lower, sliding between her folds. He pressed two fingers into her, slowly thrusting. Jess whimpered. Her hands gripped his shoulders. She groaned quietly.
"You're so tight, Princess." Tomura murmured. He moved his fingers faster, curling inside her.
"Please... stop...!" Jess cried out. Her whole body shook as she climaxed, her walls squeezing tightly around his fingers. Tomura chuckled softly.
"That was quick. You're such a naughty princess."
He removed his fingers and licked them clean, tasting her juices.
"Now then... It's my turn..."
Jess blinked slowly. "Wha-"
Tomura sat up and started to remove his shirt and then unbuckled his pants. His cock sprang out, hard and thick. Jess stared at him in shock.
"No..."
"Yes..." Tomura replied.
The feeling in his arms where coming back, biting her lip she moved and threw a punch at him, but he caught her fist. The tingly pain came back.
"Don't move, Princess." He whispered, leaning over and kissing her neck.
Jess whimpered softly, tears streaming down her cheeks.
"Please..."
"You want it, don't you?" Tomura asked, grinning.
"No, I don't!" Jess yelled at him.
"You do..."
He reached down and spread her legs. He rubbed his cock against her entrance. Jess gasped. "Stop... Please..."
"Why should I?"
"Because I said so!" Jess exclaimed.
"I think you want it..." Tomura whispered.
"I don't!" Jess yelled. "Don't you dare...."
Tomura smiled.
"I'm not going to stop, Princess."
He pushed into her, filling her completely. She groaned loudly.
"Oh god... no…"
Tomura grinned.
"I knew you liked it..."
He thrust in and out, pumping slow and slightly hard. Jess arched her back, this made Jess whimper, not in pleasure. "Mhmm, Jess, you're so tight..." This was his first time having sex and it felt amazing.
"S-Stop..." Jess cried, tears streaming down her cheeks.
"Keep quiet, Princess."
He moved faster, pounding into her. His hand gripped her thigh.
"Ahh! No! Stop!"
"Shhh... Just enjoy it..."
Jess sobbed.
"Don't cry, Princess."
Tomura kept moving, his pace increasing. Leaning up, he pushed her legs open more, his hands on her side as he hovered over to her pounding into her. "Mhmm, fuck, Jess... You're so good..."
"Stop, please stop!" Jess begged, her body shaking.
"No..." Tomura whispered, smiling.
"Ahhh!"
Jess couldn't help herself. She came, her walls squeezing tight around his cock. He groaned loudly.
"Shit, Princess... You're amazing..." The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed in the room. Jess's eyes closed and her remained quiet not saying a word just laid there groaning.
Tomura panted heavily, his hands gripping her hips tightly pounding into her. He was no where ready yet. He wanted more. "I'm not done with you, Princess."
He flipped her onto her stomach and pushed her face down into the mattress, holding her arms behind her back.
Jess tears streaming down her cheeks. She couldn't speak anymore but making groaning noises.
Tomura leaned over her, his weight on top of her, his hand holding her wrists together. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed in the room.
"Mmmm... Fuck..." Tomura moaned. "You pussy feels amazing... first time and its amazing..." he moaned out. Jess bites her lip. He moved up and his hands released her wrists and held onto her hips as he pounded into hard and fast. Skin smacking against skin echoed more and more. Tomura looked down and watched himself pounding into. "Ohhhh fuck, you're so hot..."
Jess didn't reply.
Tomura grunted loudly, his fingers digging into her hips pounding and pounding into her. He did one hard thrust and stopped moaning in pleasure while Jess laid there with her hips shivering, no saying a words. She had lost her words, no mater what she said to him he wasn't gonna stop. The feeling of his hands gently rubbing her hips and moving slowly and then pulling out. He turned her back over on her back and hovered back over her taking his still harden cock and rubs the tip against her folds, playing with her pussy with the tip of his cock.
"Ahhh... Shit..." Tomura groaned, pushing into her again. Jess whimpered, tears streaming down her cheeks and didn't sat a word.
He leaned over her, his hands on her shoulders, pinning her down.
"Fuck... Jess..."
He slammed into her, his pace increasing.
Jess moaned softly, her body trembling.
Tomura gripped her shoulders tightly, thrusting harder. He was close. So close. He couldn't hold back. Has he geld her close.
"Mmmm... gonna cum.. gonna cum... in you..."
He grunted loudly, his body tensing. Jess's eyes widen "Not.. in me....!"
"I can't stop myself..." Tomura grunted, thrusting harder and faster.
"Please, don't! I'll get pregnant!"
Tomura ignored her.
"Noooo... Please noo!" Jess cried out.
Tomura groaned loudly, slamming into her and cumming. Jess groaned, tears streaming down her cheeks. Tomura groaned, collapsing on top of her. His cock twitched inside her.
"Ahh.. Ahhh... Jess, that was amazing..."
He leaned down and kissed her cheek, pulled out his now soften cock, he say his cum squirting out of her, fuck did he cum that much into her?
Jess laid there not saying a word.
Tomura leaned down and kissed her gently. Jess didn’t move. She didn’t flinch. Didn’t resist.
He smiled faintly, brushing his fingers through her hair with a tenderness that felt out of place in the cold, dim room.
“Sleep, Princess,” he whispered.
Still, she said nothing. No words. No movement.
Tomura stood, quietly pulling his shirt back over his head. As he walked to the door, he hesitated.
A soft whimper broke the silence behind him.
His breath caught. For just a moment, he stood there—frozen, listening.
Then he exhaled slowly and stepped out. The door shut behind him with a muted click.
The hallway was quiet.
Too quiet.
He didn’t get far before the Doctor emerged from his lab, causing Tomura to stop short.
There was something knowing in the Doctor’s eyes.
Tomura met his gaze—and saw confirmation there. He knows.
Tomura bit his lip, jaw tight, and turned away without a word. His footsteps echoed down the corridor as he disappeared into the shadows.
The Doctor lingered in place. A slow, creeping smirk tugged at his lips.
“All For One is going to be very pleased,” he murmured to no one.
Notes:
I have added the secret ending >.<
Chapter 3
Notes:
(Warning: Sex scene between Tomura and Jess near the end of the chapter which is the missing scene in this part.)
Chapter Text
It had been a full month now.
The once-frequent sound of Jess's screams—echoing through the cement halls like a cruel clock marking the hours—had faded into an eerie silence. The Liberation compound, normally buzzing with the uneasy energy of soldiers and shadows, felt heavier, more uncertain. Whispers floated between rooms. Paranoia began to take root.
Something had changed.
Toga felt it too. Her steps echoed down the staircase, slow and thoughtful, the metal shower caddy in her hand swaying slightly with each stride. Bottles of soap clinked gently together—lavender and rosemary shampoo, orchid-scented body wash, a delicate cleanser tucked neatly between them all. Things Jess might've love.
She hadn't been allowed to supervise Jess's showers for some time. It had unsettled her in ways she didn't want to admit aloud. Apparently only Tomura as been allowed to watch her until today.
When Toga reached the bottom of the steps, she found Tomura leaning against the concrete wall just outside Jess's door, arms crossed, gaze unreadable. His red eyes lifted to meet hers.
"She's running a fever today," he said softly—too softly. "Be gentle with her."
Toga blinked up at him. The way he spoke—like he cared, like he meant it—made her stomach twist. Before she could speak, Tomura turned, reaching for the heavy metal door.
"Jess," his voice called into the dim room, "come on. Shower time."
Toga instinctively braced herself for shouting, for chains dragging against the floor, for Jess's usual iron-willed resistance. But none came.
Instead, Jess stepped forward on her own.
She wore a long, oversized white shirt and a pair of thin white shorts. She was barefoot, the soles of her feet dirty from the cold stone floor. Her long raspberry red hair hung in limp, tangled waves past her hips, clearly untouched by a comb in days—maybe longer.
Her face was pale and hollow, her green eyes eyes dull like green frosted glass, lips pressed into a neutral line.
Something inside Toga ached.
Tomura's hand lifted slowly. Toga flinched—but it didn't strike.
Instead, his fingers grazed Jess's shoulder with unsettling tenderness, his voice lowering into something almost...coaxing.
"Go with Toga, okay?" he murmured.
Jess didn't speak. She didn't nod. She simply hummed—a quiet, empty sound that made Toga's blood run cold.
Then Tomura turned and walked away, the click of his high tops disappearing down the corridor. He didn't look back.
Toga stood in silence, staring at Jess.
"...Come, Princess," she said gently, stepping forward. "I brought rosemary and lavender shampoo. And that orchid body wash you like ... even a face cleanser. You'll feel better after, I promise."
Jess blinked slowly, then gave her the faintest nod. Just once.
Toga swallowed hard and started walking beside her, the chains at Jess's ankles clinking softly with each step.
Something was very wrong.
And whatever it was, it hadn't ended.
It had only just begun.
Steam curled along the tiled ceiling, blurring the cold corners of the underground bathroom in a warm, fragrant haze. The soft hiss of the water was steady, calming—a small, borrowed peace from the chaos above.
Toga sat on a small metal stool, sleeves rolled up, a towel draped across her lap. Jess sat in front of her on the waterproof mat, legs folded. The heat had loosened some of the tension in Jess's shoulders, but her posture was still guarded, like a porcelain doll braced for the next crack.
With gentle fingers, Toga massaged the rosemary and lavender shampoo into Jess's scalp, her nails skimming across skin with a delicate rhythm. The scent filled the air—earthy rosemary, sweet floral lavender—a mixture so soothing it felt almost holy in a place like this.
Toga hummed softly. Nothing specific, just a quiet melody that echoed against the tile and made the space feel less like a prison, and more like a memory.
Jess closed her eyes.
She didn't speak, didn't flinch. A low hum vibrated from her throat, unintentional and light, as if part of her—buried beneath exhaustion, fever, and things too painful to name—had responded to the scent, the warmth, the familiarity of another human's gentle touch.
Toga continued her work, careful and slow. She poured warm water over Jess's hair, watching the lather swirl down the drain. Then came the conditioner, a thick lavender blend that clung to the strands like silk.
Toga hummed softly as she worked the rosemary and lavender shampoo through Jess's hair. The scent was strong and soothing, filling the steamy room.
Jess closed her eyes, a quiet hum escaping her lips, the tension in her body easing just a little.
Toga rinsed the shampoo away and applied the rosemary and lavender conditioner, carefully smoothing it through Jess's long, tangled hair.
"You've got nice hair," Toga said quietly, more to herself than to Jess. "Wish I could have hair like this so long and silky."
Jess didn't respond, but the small sound she made was enough.
Toga carefully rinsed the thick conditioner from Jess's hair, her fingers gentle as water cascaded down the pale strands. The soft fragrance of rosemary and lavender filled the small shower room, weaving between them like a calming, invisible veil. It was a stark contrast to the cold silence that usually wrapped around Jess.
Reaching for the orchid-scented body wash, Toga gave Jess a quiet question, her voice tender and hesitant, "You want to wash yourself?"
Jess didn't speak. Instead, she gave a faint nod, her emerald eyes lowered but reflecting a fragile trust. Slowly, she rose from the stool, bare feet meeting the cool floor with careful, measured steps. The white fabric of her shirt and shorts clung slightly to her damp skin, and her long, tangled hair hung loose, unbrushed for days, trailing like a soft curtain down her back.
Toga handed her the luffa, squeezing a generous amount of the lightly foaming body wash onto it. Jess accepted it silently, her fingers trembling just a little as she took it. She began to wash herself, each slow, deliberate motion a quiet act of reclaiming something—perhaps control, or dignity—in this confined, harsh reality.
Toga watched, careful not to stare too long, but her eyes involuntarily flicked to the porcelain skin of Jess's neck. There, faint marks traced delicate patterns—not bruises, but something else. The sight prickled at Toga's heart, making her bite her lip in silent worry. She looked away quickly, not wanting to break the fragile calm with questions Jess might not be ready to answer.
Minutes passed in quiet companionship, the only sounds the soft hum of water and the faint scent of orchids and lavender wrapping around them. Finally, Jess's soft voice broke the hush.
"Done..."
She let the luffa slip from her fingers, and Toga reached out to take it. Stepping back, she handed Jess the showerhead, giving her space to rinse off the last traces of soap and perhaps the weight of the past days.
Toga remained nearby, a silent guardian in this rare moment of peace, hoping somehow it would be enough to keep Jess grounded—if only for a little while.
After Jess carefully rinsed away the last traces of soap, the warm water slowed to a gentle trickle. Toga reached for a soft, thick towel, wrapping it tenderly around Jess's shoulders. The fabric felt comforting against her damp skin, a small shield from the cold reality waiting outside the shower.
Jess's hair clung in loose, damp strands, framing her pale face with a softness that seemed almost fragile in the dim light. Toga could see the exhaustion etched into every line, but in this quiet moment, Jess's features relaxed just a little.
With careful hands, Toga reached into the small bag she'd brought along and pulled out a delicate jar of cleanser—a luxury Japanese brand Jin had managed to acquire just for her. The creamy texture smelled faintly of green tea and cherry blossoms, subtle and soothing.
"This is from Jin," Toga said softly, dipping her fingers into the cool cream. "It's supposed to be really good for your skin."
Jess's eyes lifted briefly, meeting Toga's with a ghost of a grateful smile. She didn't speak, but the small nod said enough.
Toga's touch was gentle and deliberate as she spread the cleanser across Jess's cheeks, forehead, and chin. She moved with care, almost reverent, as if this simple act of kindness could stitch back some of the pieces the world had tried to break.
The creamy cleanser melted into Jess's skin, leaving behind a cool, calming sensation. For a moment, the weight of captivity, the fever, and the silent screams all faded into the background, replaced by this fleeting grace.
Toga whispered, "You deserve this... more than anyone."
Jess closed her eyes, a fragile breath escaping her lips as the quiet of the room held them both, a small island of peace in a storm of chaos.
Jess and Toga stepped out of the warm shower area, the cool air immediately brushing against their damp skin. Jess was wrapped snugly in a soft towel as Toga held a small bundle of clothes for her. Tomura had left them neatly folded just outside the room—a simple, oversized gaming shirt that smelled faintly of worn cotton and sweat, and a pair of loose boxers.
Toga handed the clothes to Jess, who took them silently, slipping out of the towel and pulling the shirt over her head. It hung awkwardly on her slender frame, the fabric loose and a bit too long, but it was the only thing she had.
Toga watched her, brow furrowed in concern. "Hey... do you have any clean underwear?" she asked gently.
Jess glanced up, then down, shaking her head slowly. The weariness in her emerald eyes deepened.
"No clean clothes?" Toga pressed, biting her lip. "Not even a single pair?"
Jess shook her head again, biting her bottom lip as if swallowing back more than just words.
Toga's frown deepened, frustration simmering beneath her usual playful exterior. "I swear, I'm gonna smack Tomura for this." She crossed her arms, her voice firm but low. "How does someone like him let you go without clean underwear? That's just cruel."
Jess shifted uncomfortably, tugging the oversized shirt lower over her hips. She didn't answer, but the quiet vulnerability in her posture spoke volumes.
Toga softened immediately, kneeling down to meet Jess's eyes. "Don't worry. I'll take care of it. I'll get you some clean clothes, wash what you have—even if I have to sneak it. And hey," she added with a small, wry smile, "I'm kinda surprised Tomura gave you his favorite Fallout shirt. That's gotta mean something, right?"
Jess managed a faint smile in return, the first genuine flicker of warmth in days. For a brief moment, surrounded by the scent of rosemary and lavender still lingering from the shower, it almost felt like she wasn't trapped at all.
But deep down, Jess knew this was just a small mercy in a much larger storm.
Toga's brow furrowed with concern as she glanced at Jess. "Are you getting women's products... pads... tampons... when you get your cycle?" Her voice was soft, genuinely worried.
Jess nodded quietly, eyes meeting Toga's with a silent gratitude.
Toga breathed out, relief washing over her face. She shifted the shower caddy and clothes, then they headed back down the hall toward Toga's room.
As they reached the doorway, Tomura was already there, leaning casually against the wall, arms crossed.
Toga didn't hesitate. Her voice rose sharply, laced with frustration and something fierce. "Give me her dirty clothes, you jerk! How dare you not have her clothes washed! She's a girl! She needs clean underwear! You're lucky I found out you've been giving her women's products when she has her cycle or I would come down on you like the Holy Ghost, Tomura-kun!"
Tomura's eyes flickered briefly with something unreadable before he said nothing. Without a word, he stepped into Jess's room and dragged out a heavily overloaded hamper, the bulging contents spilling over the sides.
Toga narrowed her eyes, her glare unwavering as she stared at the mound of unwashed clothes. "Don't think I'm letting this slide."
Jess stood quietly, watching the exchange with a strange mix of relief and tension swirling inside her. That small act of care—a simple demand for clean clothes—felt like a rare light piercing through the darkness surrounding her. It was something she clung to, even as the storm outside and within raged on relentlessly.
Tomura's eyes darkened with a mixture of irritation and something unreadable as he turned back toward Toga. His voice dropped low, carrying an edge of finality. "Just leave us be, Toga. Go on—do her laundry. She needs it." His gaze was sharp, but there was a faint shadow behind it, something heavy and distant.
Toga stood her ground, her arms tightening at her sides. Her voice trembled with frustration, worry, and a fierce protectiveness. "You're not doing anything to her today, are you? She needs to rest—no more... no more screams. Please, Tomura. You said she's running a fever." The words hung in the air like a desperate plea, tinged with fear and exhaustion.
For a moment, Tomura's stern exterior softened, and a long breath escaped him, as if weighed down by something unseen. "I'm not going to discipline her today," he finally said, his voice quieter now, almost reluctant. "When you're done with her laundry, leave it outside the door." His tone was clipped but carried a strange undercurrent of care buried beneath the cold words.
Without another word, he reached out, placing a surprisingly gentle arm around Jess's slender shoulder. Jess flinched slightly at the contact, but didn't pull away. Tomura's hand was firm, guiding her slowly back toward the dimly lit room that had become her prison. The harsh, sterile walls seemed to close in tighter as he led her inside.
The door closed softly behind them, but then a faint click echoed down the silent hallway—a sharp, deliberate sound that made Toga's breath hitch. Tomura had locked the door.
Toga stood there, staring at the locked door with clenched fists and a tightened jaw, biting her lip as a mixture of helplessness and determination surged through her. The air around her felt heavy, charged with the unspoken tensions that filled the space Tomura and Jess had just vanished into.
Even as the hallway returned to its usual stillness, Toga's mind raced—wondering what lay behind that locked door, and how much longer Jess could endure the cold shadows of captivity. The quiet was oppressive, the weight of the moment sinking deep into her bones.
What is he doing to her...?
What has changed...?
It wasn't just the locked door. It was everything that had been building over the last few weeks. The silence. The way Jess no longer screamed, no longer fought. The way she walked now—slow, mechanical, like her fire had been soaked and smothered until all that remained was smoke. Something had broken. Or worse, shifted. And Tomura... he was changing too.
Toga had always known he was unstable—twisted, yes, but there had once been purpose to it, a sense of control buried somewhere beneath the chaos. Now, she wasn't so sure. His quietness had grown colder. His touch lingered longer. His eyes flickered in ways that made her stomach twist.
She let out a shaky breath, her grip tightening around the laundry bag that sagged with Jess's used clothes. The scent of rosemary and orchid still clung faintly to them, a gentle contrast to the filth and metal of the base. It was oddly symbolic—Jess's suffering hidden beneath soft, beautiful things.
Toga turned away from the door with a heavy heart, muttering under her breath, "You better not be hurting her again... or I swear, I don't care who you are, Tomura-kun..."
She knew better than to storm in. She had no key, no power in that room. But she wasn't helpless. Not completely. Not yet. Placing the shower caddy on top of the hamper, she slowly pulled it away toward the laundry room, her sandals scraping faintly against the concrete floor. The scent of lavender and orchid still clung to her, like a fragile shield.
Inside Jess's room, the atmosphere was muted—cleaner than it had been in weeks, but still heavy with unspoken things.
Jess sat on the futon, knees drawn to her chest, her damp hair falling over her shoulders like a curtain. The thin fabric of Tomura's gaming shirt clung to her skin, oversized and soft, smelling faintly of dust and lingering soap. Her legs were folded beneath her, the boxers loose around her hips. It was comfort in the most twisted form—a mimicry of normalcy that made her feel even more detached from it.
She didn't speak. She hadn't said much since the last fever broke.
Across the room, Tomura moved with a casual air that clashed against the weight in the room. He had brought down an old TV, wires snaking from the back of it into a sleek black Xbox. A second-hand controller—scuffed and worn from hours of gameplay—rested in his gloved hands as he scrolled lazily through Game Pass. His finger paused on titles, then flicked past them.
The room wasn't sterile anymore. It had the feel of his room now—same gray walls, same flickering lamp in the corner, even a cheap rug thrown down to soften the floor. It was like he was nesting her into his world piece by piece.
Without a word, he sat down beside her, dropping into the futon with practiced ease, back resting against the massive pillow he'd dragged from upstairs. The glow of the screen lit up the angular planes of his face, casting deep shadows beneath his eyes.
He didn't look at her when he lifted his arm, just held it up in silent invitation.
Jess hesitated.
Then slowly, like sleepwalking, she shifted forward and leaned down, resting her head on his lap. The fabric of his black jeans was rough against her cheek, but she didn't flinch. She didn't move.
Tomura smirked, his voice low and almost amused, "Mhmm... which game should I play?"
His free hand absently ran through her damp hair—slow, repetitive motions more instinct than thought. It wasn't affection. Not really. It was possession. Familiar. Casual. Quietly terrifying.
Jess stared at nothing, her arms still hugging her knees. Her body was here, warm and clean, wrapped in soft fabric and gentle fingers. But her mind... her mind was still at the bottom of a dark well, waiting for the rope to snap or someone to finally pull her free.
The metallic whirr of a nearby washing machine filled the air and crouched by the utility sink was Toga. She was bent over, struggling to balance a full hamper atop the rim. Her pink tongue stuck out slightly in concentration.
Dabi tilted his head. "Toga."
She jumped with a gasp, spinning around like she'd been caught sneaking sweets. "Dabi! Don't scare me like that, you big jerk!"
He raised an eyebrow, his lip twitching at her reaction. "You always jump like that when you're guilty." His gaze flicked to the hamper. "Doing your laundry again? Didn't you just wash clothes yesterday?"
Toga's shoulders tensed. Her usual spark dimmed just a bit.
Toga's shoulders tensed. Her usual spark dimmed just a bit.
She looked away, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "These are... Jess's."
That stopped Dabi.
His gaze lingered on the hamper. Dirty clothes—soft, faded pieces that clearly weren't Toga's. He recognized that stupid Fallout shirt Tomura always wore during all-nighters. And something about the small size of the underthings nestled between the folds of towels made a tight coil twist low in his chest.
He stepped closer. "Since when are you doing her laundry?"
Toga didn't answer right away. Her fingers clutched the edge of the hamper, knuckles going white.
"She doesn't have any clean clothes," she murmured. "You think she's doing laundry chained up in that room? This hamper was overflowing. I had to bring her my own stuff just so she had something."
Dabi's jaw clenched.
The washing machine gurgled, spinning quietly.
"She's sick," Toga added, voice barely above a whisper now. "Feverish. Quiet. Too quiet. Tomura didn't even let me in for shower watch the last few weeks. Said he was 'handling it.'" Her words grew sharper. "Now she barely talks. Just... nods. No sass, no spark."
Dabi's expression didn't change, but his eyes darkened. He stared at the washer for a long beat.
"You seen her lately?" he finally asked.
Toga nodded slowly. "Today. Just now. Showered her, brushed her hair... she looked like someone pressed mute on her soul."
Dabi didn't respond right away. Instead, he reached down and set his bloodied shirt on the counter with a heavy thump.
"He's starting to piss me off..." he muttered, voice low and calm—but too calm. That dangerous kind of stillness. "I didn't sign up for breaking a Princess's spirit."
Toga looked up sharply, her eyes wide. The way he said Princess—not mocking, not sarcastic. Just quiet. Angry.
"Dabi—"
"Don't," he cut her off, but gently. His tone wasn't cold, just tired. "Just get her stuff clean... I'm not leaving, don't worry."
He opened one of the washers with a clatter, ready to shove the clothes inside when Toga darted forward.
"Don't just put it in there!" she yelped. "Dabi-kun—lemon, remember?"
He blinked at her, one brow quirking.
Toga pressed her hand to her chest, breath hitching slightly. "Margin always used lemon to get out bloodstains. Before..." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Before Overhaul killed her..."
For a heartbeat, neither of them said anything.
Dabi stared at the blood smeared across the white fabric of his shirt, then looked at the hamper again. All that pale fabric... soft things that didn't belong in this place. He clenched his jaw, knuckles going taut around the metal washer door.
Toga swallowed and reached into a side cabinet, pulling out a small bottle of lemon-based stain remover. She pressed it into his hand, more gently this time.
"Start with that," she said softly. "For hers too. Not just yours."
Dabi took the bottle. Nodded once.
In Jess’s room, the air was still and dimly lit by the soft glow of the bunker’s overhead lights. Jess lay curled on her side atop the mattress, her head resting gently on Shigaraki’s lap. He sat propped against the wall, legs stretched out, a game controller clutched in his gloved hands. The flickering screen ahead displayed a paused moment in Star Wars Jedi: Fallen Order, frozen just after an intense boss fight.
His red-rimmed eyes remained focused for a long moment, his breathing calm but shallow. Then, with a quiet exhale, he leaned his head back against the wall and removed the glove from his right hand.
Jess didn’t move. She could hear the faint sound of the glove being pulled off, the soft leather brushing against his skin. She didn’t have to look to know what that meant.
Shigaraki’s hand slowly lowered toward her, hovering briefly before his fingertips touched her hip. She tensed slightly—barely perceptible—but didn’t speak or pull away. His fingers shifted subtly, slipping just beneath the hem of the oversized shirt she wore.
And then—his quirk activated.
A sharp, tingling sensation bloomed across her skin. It wasn’t enough to destroy—just enough to bruise. The dull ache spread slowly, like a pulse under her skin. Jess trembled faintly, her breath catching in her throat.
Still, she said nothing.
Shigaraki hummed softly, withdrawing his hand.
“Up,” he said, his voice quiet—not harsh, but firm enough to be a command.
Jess hesitated, then slowly sat up. She didn’t argue. Part of her didn’t want to see what would happen if she did.
Tomura moved the controller from his lap and set it beside him before tapping his thigh.
“Come on.”
Her hands trembled slightly as she crawled over and eased herself into his lap, now facing him. He didn’t say a word as he reached up with his gloved left hand and gently guided her down, pressing her face into the crook of his neck.
Jess didn’t resist. She remained still, quiet, her breath warming the space between them as she let her cheek rest against his skin.
With his right glove back on, Tomura picked up the controller again and resumed the game, his fingers dancing over the buttons while Jess stayed curled on his lap—silent, obedient, and unmoving.
Tomura hummed in delight, adjusting a little Jess's eyes widen in his neck to feel a bulge from Tomura’s sweat pants. He had paused the game again, putting the controller down gain, his hands went in between them and adjusted slightly as he pulled down his sweatpants while she was still sitting him lap with her face in his neck shaking.
Tomura kicked off his sweat pants without even getting up or without moving her. then his hands went to her hips and slowly moved down Jess's women’s lose boxers.
Gently moving her up a little as he took off her underwear and gently had her move back down as her pussy was touching his clothed her down. She felt a chill go through her.
Tomura picked up the controller again and resumed the game, his fingers dancing over the buttons while sat on his lap with her pussy touching his clothed hard on. Moving a little making his clothed hard on rubbed against her little "move your hips..." he gentle says.
She moves her hips and felt a bulge from Tomura’s hard on and her pussy rubbing his clothed hard on. This was the 9th time he wanted sex and the 9th time it will happen again.
Shigaraki groaned a little feeling her pussy rub his hard on. "H-Harder..." he groans out. She moved her hips a little faster as his clothed cock started throbbing. Her heart pounded against her chest and her whole-body shook. A single tear rolled down her cheek and she closed her eyes, trying to imagine she was somewhere else. But there was nowhere else.
Tomura had paused the game and put the controller down again, he leaned his head back and his gloved hand grabbed her ass roughly, forcing her down on his cock harder. She whimpered softly as she rubbed her pussy faster against his clothed hard on.
He let out a moan, gripping her ass tightly. "Y-yes... Fuck..." He hissed out. She closed her eyes, her cheeks burning. She didn't want this.
Her hands were pressed against his chest, gripping the fabric of his shirt as she moved her hips harder. He was so close, she could feel his breath against her skin. He was panting, his hips jerking, his grip on her ass growing tighter but he moved his left hand up a little and came down smacking her ass making her gasp and stop moving shivering.
Tomura wanted to fuck her.. make.. love to her in his mind she is his.
"P-please...." Jess whispered, her voice hoarse. She hadn't spoken a word since her last fever broke. "Please, not again.."
He smirks. "Why? because you know this will happen every time I want sex with you?"
She shuddered.
His voice lowered, the words hot against her ear. "Every time you're with me, you'll be naked, under my control. Go on, remove my boxers."
Jess shook, but she didn't resist.
Slowly, she lifted her trembling hands and reached down. Her fingers brushed the waistband of his boxers and carefully pulled them down, exposing his hard cock.
Tomura's breath caught in his throat. His gloved hands gripped her ass, his voice low. "Go on... rub your pussy on my cock, don't put it in no not yet."
Jess didn't respond. She didn't want to, but her body obeyed anyway.
She slowly lifted her hips and lowered them again, feeling the length of his cock sliding between her folds. She bit back a sob as his length throbbed against her clit.
"Yes," Tomura moaned. "Keep going, Princess..."
She shuddered, her tears running down her cheeks, and began to grind her pussy on his cock. The sensation was almost painful. His cock felt like fire against her skin, his body trembling with the effort of holding himself back.
"Oh God, I can't wait to be inside you," he groaned, his voice breathless.
She bit her lip, a choked sob escaping her.
"You're mine," Tomura growled. "And I'm going to make you feel it. the bottle of lube right next to the bed. You know what to do."
Jess's chest tightened.
She didn't want this. She didn't want any of it. But she knew what would happen if she refused. So she reached out and took the lube, opening the bottle with a snap and pouring some onto her fingers.
"That's it," Tomura breathed. "Now put them in. You know where."
She bit back a sob and slid her fingers inside her pussy "Mhmm that’s it Jess."
She felt sick.
"Good girl," Tomura groaned, his cock twitching against her. "Keep going."
She obeyed.
Her fingers moved in and out, stretching her pussy, her body shivering with every thrust.
Tomura's voice was hoarse. "God, I can't wait anymore, please. My tip against your pussy..."
She trembled, her eyes squeezing shut as she felt the tip of his cock pressing against her entrance. Tomura had removed his gloves, he reached in between them taking a hold of his cock and slapping it against her pussy. "Come on sit on my cock."
She didn't want to, but she did.
Her eyes closed as she slowly sank down, the head of his cock pushing past her tight entrance.
Tomura let out a groan. "Oh fuck yes.."
His hips bucked upward, and his cock plunged deeper into her pussy, stretching her painfully. "Fuck... yes.... ride me..."
She didn't respond, but she didn't need to. Her body moved on its own, her hips rising and falling as his cock plunged deeper and deeper inside her.
The sensation was too much.
Tomura moaned, his eyes rolling back. His fingers dug into her skin, his breath hot against her neck.
"Fuck yes," he groaned, his voice thick. "Go on move Jess."
She couldn't. She didn't want to. But her body obeyed anyway.
Slowly, she began to move. Her hips rose and fell, her pussy sliding along his length.
Tomura groaned. "Fuck, that's it." His cock was stretching her, filling her. Every movement sent a shock of pleasure through her, her body shivering with the intensity.
"Oh fuck..." he groaned, his voice strained. "That's it... take it."
His fingers dug into her skin, his hips thrusting upward. He was close. She could feel it.
She wanted to stop. She didn't want this. She didn't. But her body kept moving, his cock throbbing inside her.
Tomura's breath was ragged his hands moved up her body removing her shirt, her prefect D size boobs bounced. Her nipples were hard, his mouth opened and latched on her nipple sucking. She gasped, her eyes fluttering shut, her body shuddering as his cock drove deeper inside her.
"Yes... fuck yes," Tomura moaned. His mouth moved to her other nipple, his tongue swirling around the hardened nub.
Her body was shaking. She was so close.
Tomura's cock pulsed inside her, and she could feel him twitch, his body tensing. He was close.
"Fuck," he groaned, his voice raw. "You're going to make me come..."
She bit her lip, her chest tight. She didn't want this. But her body was betraying her.
Tomura's fingers dug into her hips and started to slam up into her pussy making her actually moan in actual pleasure. Tomura was fucking her so hard and fast, that she was moaning his name and cumming on his cock. "Shhh not to loud baby." He switched them and flipped them on the futon. Tomura was leaning on his elbow thrusting into her hard and slow. He was nowhere near ready to come. He leaned in and kissed her lips, she kissed him back. "Mhmm that's my girl."
He moved his hand to her pussy and rubbed her clit making her gasp.
He smirked, his voice a low growl. "That's it. Cum for me. You know you want to."
She couldn't. But her body was already betraying her.
Her back arched, her hips bucking, her eyes squeezing shut. Her nails dug into his shoulders, her legs wrapping around his waist, her toes curling. She couldn't stop herself.
Tomura groaned, his eyes fluttering shut, his cock throbbing deep inside her.
"Oh fuck," he growled, his hips thrusting erratically. "Oh fuck, your mine... your mine.."
His cock plunged deeper, his breath ragged.
Her body was shuddering, her nails digging into his skin, her pussy clenching around him.
"Mine," he groaned, his cock pulsing, his hips slamming against hers. "Say I’m yours baby..."
She didn't speak. She couldn't. But her body was responding, her hips bucking, her nails dragging across his back.
"Say it," he growled, his cock throbbing.
"I'm yours," she gasped.
"Good," he moaned. His cock was pounding into her, his breath hot against her skin.
"Oh fuck, that's it," he growled, his voice strained. "Cum for me."
She couldn't stop.
Her back arched, her mouth opening in a silent cry, her body shuddering, her pussy clenching around him.
He slammed his cock deep inside her, his whole body tensing.
"Fuck," he groaned. "Fucking cum."
Her orgasm was intense, her pussy convulsing around him, her whole body shaking, her voice hoarse.
"Yes," he growled, his cock pulsing inside her. "Oh fuck yes."
She was lost.
Her eyes fluttered shut, her breath ragged, her heart racing.
Tomura was still inside her, his cock twitching, his body tense.
"Fuck," he moaned. His hips twitched, his breath catching. "Fuck." but started to thrust into her slowly while cumming. Deep with in, deep in her womb. She shivered, her back arching, her fingers went to her face and she bite her finger shivering.
"Yes," he groaned, his breath hot against her neck. "Fuck."
She could feel him coming inside her, his cock throbbing, his cum filling her.
"That's it," he growled, his voice a low rasp. "Take it. Take all of it."
She was drowning.
She couldn't stop shaking, her eyes rolling back, her pussy clenching around him.
"Yes," he groaned, his hips slamming against hers, his cock pumping inside her. He slowly pulled out with a wet pop and he watched as cum poured out of her pussy. He was still hard. "Turn over."
She turned, her face buried in the pillow, her body shaking.
He pushed her knees up, and her pussy was exposed to him, he grabbed his cock and slowly pushed into her milk pussy pushing his cum more deeper in her. "Mhmm Beautiful."
He started to slam into her making her actually moan softly into the pillow, he was slamming his cock hard and deep inside her pussy.
Jess had never felt this much pleasure with him before. He slammed harder and faster, and she gasps "Pull out.... T-Tomura..."
Oh that was first time she had said his name during sex, and he right away pulled out as she shivered and squirted. His eyes widen this was the hottest thing ever. She squirted, her pussy contracting and she shivered and came on his cock.
"Fuck.."
She couldn't stop shaking, her voice ragged, her body trembling.
He slammed his cock deep inside her, his whole-body tensing.
"You're mine," he growled, gripping her hips.
"Mine. Oh, fuck my Jess... I’m gonna cum deep in you again..."
He slammed his cock deep inside her, his whole-body tensing.
"Yes... take.. it all.. deep in your womb... you want that huh? have a baby with me?" He groaned and cummed inside her deeply again.
She didn't respond.
Her chest tightened.
Her eyes closed, her nails digging into the pillow.
He slammed his cock deep inside her, his whole body tensing.
"Don't you want my baby in you?" he growled, his voice strained. Which almost didn’t even sound like him his voice, to her his voice sounded off…
She couldn't breathe.
Her eyes fluttered shut, her heart pounding against her chest.
She was trapped.
Tomura slowly pulled out, his cum dripping out of her and he smirked watching it. “Let's get you cleaned up... where the wipes...?"
"In the cabinet." she softly says.
Tomura walked over to the cabinet and opened it up and looked inside seeing different wipes and picked up one. Then closed the cabinet and walked back over and kneeled down. He put his hand on her lower back and pushed her back down and ass up.
Jess was exhausted, her mind drifting, her body still trembling. The cold, clinical smell of the room was fading, replaced by the warmth of sweat and sex. It was sickening, but the feeling of Tomura's hands on her back, his weight pinning her down, was somehow comforting.
She didn't move, didn't speak. She just lay there, her eyes closed, her body still shaking.
Tomura's voice was low, almost tender. "Shhh it's ok." He gently wiped away the sticky mess between her legs. His touch was soft, careful.
"There, all clean." He placed the wipes int he garbage can, and then sat up, pulling his boxers back on and reach out grabbing the Febreeze spray and spraying the room in clean linen smell. "Get changed before Toga shows up."
Jess didn't say anything, but her cheeks flushed, a sudden rush of shame filling her.
Tomura smiled faintly. "I think I'm going to sleep next to you tonight."
Her eyes widened.
Tomura's smile widened. "Don't be surprised, not the first time Jess." He said grabbing the controller "Come on, sit next to me watch me play my again."
She obeyed.
He wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close and kissed her forehead. Jess shivers without saying a word.
Another month had passed. No more screams. The silence was eerie, unsettling the Liberation members. Dabi stood at the top of the stairs, staring down into the depths of the hideout. What was going on? Part of him was relieved the screams had stopped, but a deeper, darker unease gnawed at him—memories of his own past flooding back. The screams, the cries, the agonizing silence that would always follow before they began again. Here, it felt like history was repeating itself.
Biting his lip, Dabi made a decision. He quietly descended the stairs, reaching the fork in the hallway: one path led to the laundry and boiler room; the other, to the doctor's second lab and Jess's room.
Clenching his fists, he took the hall toward the lab and Jess's room. The doctor's lab door was slightly ajar, voices drifting out.
"Why did you call me in here...? I wanted to sit with her..." Tomura's voice echoed in his head.
"Another order came from All For One. He knows what you've been doing. The discipline has stopped. I won't lie to you, Tomura... it turned into something more. All For One has approved—she is now yours." The doctor's tone was cold, clinical.
Tomura's eyes widened. "W-What...?"
"You heard me. Shouldn't be hard for you to do. She's at the peak of her ovulation right now. You basically made her room your second room, Tomura. Spending all this time with her alone... Oh, I know." The doctor chuckled.
Tomura bit his lip. Inside, a strange warmth stirred in his chest. Jess could be fully his now... a baby with her... "Is this what Master said I can have?"
"Yes, Tomura! But first, we need to see if you're not shooting blanks!" the doctor said with a laugh.
Tomura gasped, "That's not funny! Fine! Check!"
"Good. Take this cup and go to the bathroom here. I'll be in the joined room on the left. When this is done, you can move her to your room or bring all your stuff down here." By the door, Dabi peeked in.
"Tomorrow, she's still running a fever..." Tomura muttered, stomping into the bathroom as the doctor moved into the joined room.
Dabi's body moved on instinct. Quietly but deliberately, he walked to Jess's room. Frowning at the door, he reached out and twisted the knob—it was unlocked. Dabi's breath caught as he stepped fully inside the dimly lit room. The faint hum of the gaming console filled the otherwise heavy silence, a strange and haunting contrast to the cold chains that tethered Jess to the ceiling. Her form was small and fragile against the harsh metal restraints, the white fabric of her clothes hanging loosely on her.
Her eyes fluttered open, hazy yet instantly alert when she caught sight of him. Recognition sparked, but with it came hesitation and fear—clear in the way her gaze flicked to the door behind him, searching for a quick exit that didn't exist.
"Princess Jess...?" Dabi's voice was low, rough with emotion he struggled to control.
Her throat gave a faint rasp as she whispered, "D-Dabi...? Y-you can't be here..."
He knelt carefully beside her, his burnt hands trembling slightly but steadying as he reached out, voice firm yet gentle, "I'm here to get you out. Just... let me help."
Jess's gaze darted nervously toward the wall beside her, eyes flicking toward a small hook barely visible in the dim light.
Dabi followed her movement—and there it was.
A key.
Hanging carelessly on a thin nail, almost as if it had been forgotten. The key to her chains.
Dabi's breath hitched. He rose to his feet quickly but quietly, crossing the room in two strides. He snatched the key with a flick of his wrist. When he turned back, his eyes met Jess's, and for a brief moment, the fear behind them softened into something else—cautious hope.
He crouched again, reaching up toward the first shackle around her wrist. The lock clicked open with a quiet snap.
Jess gasped as her arm dropped, too weak to hold itself up. Dabi caught it gently, lowering it to rest on her lap.
"I've got you," he whispered. "Just hold on."
He moved to the next lock, then the next—each one falling open faster than the last. Jess slumped forward. Dabi caught her before she could fall, pulling her carefully into his arms.
Her whole body trembled. From fever, from fear, from exhaustion—it didn't matter. What mattered was that she was free. Even if just for now.
"You're burning up," he murmured, feeling the unnatural heat radiating off her. "We need to get you out of here before anyone notices."
Jess's head rested weakly against his shoulder. "Tomura... he... he'll know..."
"Let him," Dabi muttered, standing with her cradled against him. "He doesn't own you."
He turned toward the door, and picked her up bridal style the other already warming with his Quirk in case someone tried to stop them.
Not one more damn second. He needed to get her somewhere safe before fully getting her out.. but who would help? Toga.. he needed to get her to Toga's room without being seen.
Dabi moved swiftly, every step silent and measured. Jess's weight in his arms was light—too light—and her fevered skin radiated heat even through his clothes. Her breath was shallow against his collarbone, but she was conscious... just barely.
He edged the door open with his foot and peered out into the hallway. Empty. Good. Still, he didn't trust it. This place had too many ears, too many eyes.
He shifted her slightly, making sure her head stayed tucked against his shoulder. "Hang on," he whispered, more to himself than to her.
He moved fast, but not recklessly, sticking to the shadows, his steps instinctively silent from years of running through ruins and alleyways. The cold basement air nipped at his exposed skin, but the warmth pouring off Jess clung to him like a second layer. Every creak of wood or groan of pipe made his muscles tense.
He rounded the corner past the boiler room, breathing shallowly. If he could just get to Toga's quarters—maybe she could hide Jess long enough for him to think. Long enough to figure out what the hell to do next.
He heard voices in the distance. Laughing. Spinner and Twice? Maybe. Too far to be a threat yet.
The hallway bent again. He moved quicker now, boots barely making contact with the floor.
Toga's room was just ahead.
The faint pink tape she'd used to mark the edge of her door still clung to the frame like a silent beacon. Dabi kicked once—softly.
"Toga. It's me. Open the damn door."
A second passed. Then two. Dabi felt his heart punch faster.
Then: the click of the lock turning.
The door opened just wide enough for Toga's wide, confused eyes to meet his.
"Dabi—?"
"No time," he growled, pushing inside and kicking the door shut with his boot. "She needs help."
Toga's eyes fell on Jess in his arms—and her whole body froze.
"Oh my God," she whispered. "What did he—she's burning up—"
"She's sick," Dabi snapped, kneeling and laying Jess gently onto the bed. He brushed the sweat-damp hair from her flushed forehead. "Fever. Chains. That bastard had her locked up like a dog."
Toga's eyes burned with a mixture of fury and fear as she rushed to Jess's side. Her gaze swept over her trembling form. "Why does she keep getting these fevers...?"
"I don't know," Dabi ground out, rising just enough to look her in the eyes. "But Toga... I heard the doctor. He's planning something worse. All For One basically gave her to him. Like some kind of mail-order bride."
Toga's breath caught in her throat. Her lips parted—then closed again as guilt swam behind her wide eyes.
"We don't have time to argue," Dabi continued, voice low and tight. "I know you had thoughts about what he was doing to her... after the screams. You never told me."
Toga bit her lip until it turned white, then slowly nodded. "The hickeys on her neck... the soft, gentle touches he gave her... I noticed. But I didn't want to believe it. I thought maybe... maybe she was just getting under his skin. Not that—" she cut herself off, eyes darting to Jess.
Dabi turned and began pacing, fists clenched. "I need you to pack bags for her. Something warm—it's freezing out there. Hoodie, leggings, warm socks. A pair of your high tops."
Toga blinked at him. "How are you even planning to get her out of here? We're surrounded by forest, and the League—"
"There's a second pathway under the boiler room," Dabi said, smirking just slightly. "I found a sealed entrance just a week after we moved in. It leads into the sewers. Nobody else knows about it. I can get her out."
Jess's raspy voice broke the tension. "Why... why are you helping me?"
Her eyes were wide with confusion and something else—fragile, raw.
Toga frowned and crawled over to her mini fridge in the corner. She popped it open and pulled out a cold water bottle, pressing it gently into Jess's hands. "Here. Drink. You need to stay hydrated. But seriously... why do you keep getting fevers?"
Jess took the bottle carefully, her fingers trembling slightly as they closed around the chilled plastic. Even that small motion made her wince—her wrists were raw beneath the glowing cuffs. Still, she sipped. Slowly. Carefully. Cold water rushed down her throat like ice over burning coals. For a moment, she just sat there, the bottle cradled in her lap, chest rising and falling unevenly.
After a pause, she whispered hoarsely, "I'm allergic to Luminite..."
Toga, still kneeling on the bed beside her, froze. "What's Luminite...?"
Dabi looked surpised at Toga. "For real...? It's that new crystal-metal stuff. Only found in Celtica, I think. Wait—" He kneeling closer "What's he been using on you?"
Jess followed his gaze, her lip trembling as her eyes settled on the faint glow around the bindings. "These... are Luminite cuffs," she said quietly. "My quirk is completely shut off with these on. That's what they're made for. But it's more than that—I'm... I'm allergic to it. I always have been."
Toga's brows furrowed. She shifted on her knees, inching closer like she wanted to reach out but wasn't sure if it was okay to touch. Her voice was soft but stunned. "It's not known you're allergic, is it...?"
Jess shook her head. "No. Hardly anyone knows. It's so rare, even in Celtica. My file... it's supposed to be sealed."
Dabi growled under his breath, his jaw tight. "So that bastard doctor—and Tomura—they didn't even realize what they were doing to you."
Jess didn't respond right away. Her shoulders hunched as if she were curling into herself, trying to disappear. "I don't think they knew," she said, eyes fixed on the floor. "They just thought I was getting fevers because I was weak..."
Toga covered her mouth with both hands, tears filling her eyes. "Why didn't you say anything... to them...?"
Jess glanced at her slowly, like the question itself hurt. Her voice cracked when she answered. "What was the point? If I said something, they'd still leave them on. Still keep me locked up. Even if they knew, they wouldn't care."
Dabi took a sharp breath and looked away, fists clenched at his sides. The burn scars on his hands flexed with tension.
"Even if she said something," he muttered darkly, "All For One would've ordered it anyway. And the boss..." His lip curled in disgust. "He would've followed, like the little puppet he is."
The silence that followed was thick—weighted with grief, guilt, and unspoken rage. Jess slowly leaned back against the pillow, clutching the water bottle to her chest like a lifeline, her face pale and streaked with sweat. Her breathing was shallow, every inhale shaky like her lungs were trying to catch up with the rest of her body. The cuffs still glowed faintly, cruel and foreign against her skin—restraints that pulsed softly with their own faint, unnatural light, like they were alive and feeding on her.
Toga sat back on her heels, hugging her arms close to her body, eyes locked on the cuffs.
"How do we get them off...?" she asked softly, her voice tinged with urgency but also fear. "Do they need a code? A key? I can't cut through something like that."
Jess frowned, the tension deepening in her brows. "I don't know what they did to hack into them... These seem like a prototype."
She lifted one wrist weakly, the cuff buzzing faintly at the motion. "Maybe sold on the black market...? They're not supposed to be released yet. I've only ever seen early schematics during a security meeting in the palace."
Dabi was pacing now, running a hand through his already wild hair, his jaw locked tight. "Of course. Of course they'd get their hands on illegal tech," he muttered. "Bastards like them always do. If it's not from some underground seller, it's from one of the damn traitors inside Celtica."
Jess slowly shook her head. "No... No one from Celtica would do this. Not to me. But... if someone smuggled the specs—"
Toga interrupted, biting her lip. "What happens if we try to force them off?"
Jess looked down at her arms. "They'll inject a suppressant. And if that doesn't work... there's a shock pulse. I already felt one when I tried to pull against them too hard."
Dabi stopped pacing. His voice was low, edged with fury. "And what happens if we leave them on while getting you out?"
"The fever will keep getting worse," Jess whispered. "It builds up over time. My body can fight it off in small doses, but..." Her lips trembled slightly. "I can't take much more."
Toga stood quickly, panic flashing in her eyes. "Then we have to figure it out now."
Dabi looked at Jess again. She was trembling, but alert. Pale—but fighting.
"Hold still, I'm gonna try something..." he murmured, moving closer and gently placing his hand on the glowing cuff around her wrist.
Jess flinched, not from pain but from the strange contrast—his skin was rough, scarred, and warm. The blue light from his palm flickered to life, casting a ghostly glow across her bruised skin. For a moment, everything felt still, suspended in tension.
Toga's eyes widened in horror. "Dabi..."
Jess blinked at the warmth radiating from his hand, her breath catching in her throat. Then the sound—a soft sizzle. Smoke curled from his palm as the searing heat began to react with the metal. The acrid scent of burning Luminite mixed with the sterile sting of sweat and fever.
"Dabi! Your hand!" Toga gasped quietly, horror creeping into her voice as she saw his flesh blistering under the effort.
He winced but didn't pull away. "Don't distract me..." he grit out through clenched teeth.
Jess bit her lip. This shouldn't be possible... His Quirk shouldn't even work while touching Luminite—it was supposed to block energy transfer. And yet...
Her eyes widened. The cuff was melting.
Thin streams of liquefied metal slid down her arm like molten mercury, hissing when it hit the cool air. The glowing band cracked, its locking mechanism fizzing as if confused by the breakdown in its system.
"This isn't possible," she whispered, stunned.
"Careful not to melt her skin..." Toga murmured, inching closer, voice soft and shaky as her fingers hovered just above Jess's wrist.
Dabi nodded slightly, sweat dripping down his temple. "I've got it..."
One final pulse of heat—and the cuff fell away, hitting the floor with a dead metallic thud. The glow in Jess's wrist faded instantly. Her body gave a full-body shudder, like her nervous system was rebooting.
She gasped, finally able to take a clean breath. Her fingers flexed, sluggish at first, but then more freely than they had in days.
Dabi collapsed backward with a hiss of pain, cradling his scorched hand. His breathing was ragged, but his eyes were on her. "One down."
Jess stared at him in disbelief. "How did you do that...?"
He managed a strained smirk. "No idea. Just figured if it was going to burn someone, might as well be me."
Toga moved quickly to his side, already digging through her bag for burn salve. "That was reckless, you idiot."
"Yeah," he muttered, glancing at Jess again. "But worth it."
Jess looked down at her freed wrist, then at the remaining cuff.
"Can you do the other?"
Dabi chuckled hoarsely. "Give me a minute. Unless you wanna wear it as a fashion statement."
Jess gave a faint, tired laugh, but for the first time in weeks—it was real.
Jess let her eyes fall to the second cuff still clamped around her left wrist—its faint glow pulsing like a quiet threat.
Dabi followed her gaze, then exhaled slowly and sat forward again, wiping his damaged hand on his shirt. The skin was red, cracked, and still smoking slightly, but he didn't hesitate. He extended the other hand.
"Ready?" he asked.
Jess nodded, though her body flinched instinctively. She didn't trust the metal. Not after what it had done to her. Not after what it had let them do.
Dabi gently took hold of her arm, positioning his palm flat over the last cuff. Blue light surged again—brighter this time, steadier. Toga hovered nearby, holding burn cream in one hand and a damp towel in the other.
The second cuff reacted faster, like it knew what was coming. It sparked violently, then began to sizzle. Jess clenched her teeth as the heat radiated out—not enough to burn her, but enough to make her bones feel like they were humming.
"Almost..." Dabi hissed, his jaw tight with pain. His knuckles were white with strain.
The Luminite began to liquefy, the seams of the cuff glowing white-hot before cracking. Steam rose between his fingers and her skin. Jess gave a sharp gasp but didn't move.
"Now!" Toga his whispers.
Dabi yanked his hand back just as the final lock burst open, and the second cuff dropped to the floor beside the first with a dull clink. Jess stared at her wrists—red, swollen, but free.
She sucked in a deep breath, her shoulders sagging like a weight had been torn from her spine. "They're off..." she whispered, dazed.
Dabi dropped onto his elbows beside the bed, panting hard, both of his hands visibly burned now. He winced as Toga immediately started slathering ointment over them, muttering curses under her breath.
"You're insane," she growled.
"Maybe," Dabi rasped, locking eyes with Jess. "But she's not chained up anymore, is she?"
Jess blinked, eyes misty. Her voice trembled. "Thank you..."
He gave a dry chuckle. "Don't thank me yet. We still have to get the hell out of here."
Toga looked between them, then nodded sharply. "I'll get the bags ready. Food, meds, water, warm clothes."
As Toga scrambled, Jess reached toward Dabi's burned hand, her fingers brushing his lightly. "You didn't have to..."
"I did," he said simply.
And for a second—just a second—there was no League. No cells. No collars. Just three people in a stolen moment of defiance.
Freedom had a cost.
But tonight, they were willing to pay it.
Chapter Text
Jess sat curled up on the edge of Toga's bed, her legs tucked beneath her, the bento box balanced carefully in her lap. Her fingers were still shaky, but she managed to eat slowly, bit by bit. The warm food helped ease the hollow ache in her chest, though it did little for the lingering fever burning behind her eyes.
The soft hum of Toga's playlist buzzed faintly in the background, cheerful and oddly upbeat for the mood in the room.
Across from her, Toga zipped open Dabi's black duffel bag, stuffing in a few more rolled shirts, socks, and a clean pair of gloves. "Honestly," she muttered, half to herself, "of course he wants to pack his leather villain coat..."
Jess looked up, her voice a quiet murmur. "He gives a goth vibe..."
Toga paused, blinking—and then burst into a giggle, flashing a toothy grin over her shoulder. "Totally! He's like some brooding, cursed prince or something. Very handsome, though. Maybe even more if he didn't have all those scars."
Jess flushed faintly at that but didn't get the chance to answer.
There was a knock at the door—three rhythmic taps, then a pause, followed by two more. Jess's breath caught
"Stab, stab," came the whispered code.
Toga giggled and skipped over to the door. "That's him."
She unlocked and cracked it open. Dabi stepped inside, hoodie already pulled on, hair tousled from his quick change. He looked around once to make sure Jess was okay, then nodded and shut the door behind him.
"We're almost ready," Toga said, swinging the backpack over her shoulder and setting it by the foot of the bed. "Is her disappearance noticed yet?"
Dabi shook his head, voice low. "Not yet. He's still holed up in his room playing that damn game of his. Guess when he said he was gonna let her 'rest,' he really meant it."
Jess stiffened, the warmth of the meal draining from her as unease settled over her. The light in Toga's eyes dimmed, the easy camaraderie replaced by something sharper, heavier.
"We should leave soon," Toga said quietly, stepping closer to the bed. Her voice dropped, almost a whisper. "Before he decides to actually pay you a visit."
Dabi's nod was slow but firm. His eyes flickered to Jess—softening just a fraction, the rough edges of his usual scowl easing.
Jess looked between them, her voice shaky but determined. "How are we doing this... again?"
"There's a second path," Dabi explained, stepping closer, lowering his voice. "It leads to the boiler room. From there, a hidden passage into the sewers. I have a hideout not far from here. It'll take about half an hour. We can lay low while your fever breaks and you regain your strength."
Jess's fingers trembled as she set aside her bento box. Slowly, she reached for the light purple hoodie lying beside her. Dabi moved forward instinctively, ready to help—but Jess shook her head.
"I can do it," she whispered, slipping her arms through the sleeves. The fabric was soft against her skin, a small comfort in the storm around her.
For the first time in weeks, she was stepping out.
And this time... she wasn't coming back.
Her gaze lifted, locking with Dabi's. "You realize... You can't come back here."
Toga's eyes fell, voice thick with emotion. "I think she's right. We can't risk it. I think... I'll leave a day or two after you two disappear."
Dabi's eyes widened, confusion flickering. "Toga... why?"
Her breath hitched. "He isn't our Tomura anymore. That's not him." Her voice cracked as tears welled. "He came from an abusive home before All For One took him in. I did too. So did Dabi. Tomura said he would never condone abuse... but he gave it to you. I don't think that was him. Not really."
The room felt heavier after her words, a truth they all feared but needed to say.
Jess swallowed hard, wrapping the hoodie tighter around herself, steeling her resolve.
This was their chance. Their only chance.
And they couldn't waste it.
Dabi hoisted the backpack over one shoulder, the worn straps digging slightly into his skin but nothing he minded. His other hand found Jess's, fingers curling around hers with a gentle firmness. She wore the hoodie Toga had given her, oversized and soft, and a pair of scuffed high tops that looked almost new against her pale feet.
They moved quietly through the villa's dim corridors, shadows slipping between silence and light. The fair side—the less guarded wing—felt empty, the usual hum of activity replaced by a tense stillness.
Dabi led Jess toward the staircase tucked behind a faded tapestry, the one that descended toward the boiler room. Each step creaked softly beneath them, sending little echoes into the cold air.
At the bottom, the heat from the boiler room hit them—a sharp contrast to the coolness above—mingling with the scent of aged metal and damp stone. Dabi paused for a brief moment, glancing down at Jess. Her breathing was shallow but steady; she clung to his hand tightly. No words were needed.
Together, they walked quietly to a small supply closet tucked in the corner. Dabi eased the door open, then gently pulled Jess inside before closing it softly behind them. The cramped space was dim and bare.
Jess blinked, her voice barely above a whisper. "This is empty... Dabi?"
He smiled softly, the edges of his lips curling just enough to show a rare tenderness. Without another word, he moved over to the fuse box mounted on the wall. His fingers pressed a precise sequence of buttons and switches—a combination only he seemed to know.
Suddenly, with a slow, grinding rumble, the stone wall beside them began to shift, revealing a hidden passageway bathed in darkness.
Jess's eyes widened, a mixture of awe and disbelief flickering across her face. "How... how did you find this...?"
Dabi chuckled quietly, his voice low but amused. "A rat kinda showed me... Been cut clean in half the door, a long time ago. Had to do some digging, find the papers on a secret mafia tunnel, tracked down the combination, and destroyed the documents. This is my secret... and now it's yours too."
He reached out, taking her hand again, their fingers intertwining as the cold air of the hidden tunnel whispered promises of escape and uncertain hope. Helping her carefully through the narrow doorway, Dabi's hand brushed against the rough stone walls, steadying her as they stepped into the darkness.
Near the entrance, a small switch caught his eye. Without hesitation, he pulled it. The heavy stone wall began to slide shut with a muted thud, sealing the passage behind them. "See? No one will follow us," he said, his voice low but certain. "Come on, let's keep moving. We've got a long way ahead."
Jess nodded, a soft smile flickering on her lips—small but genuine. The brief warmth of her expression caught Dabi off guard, and his cheeks tinted a subtle shade of red. For a moment, their eyes met, sharing a quiet understanding in the shadowed tunnel.
Then, side by side, they pressed onward into the unknown.
Shigaraki logged out of his game, the sudden silence filling the small room where he sat. He leaned back in his chair, fingers tapping lightly against the armrest, a soft hum escaping his lips. The absence of Jess's warmth beside him gnawed at something deep inside—a rare vulnerability he usually buried beneath layers of anger and chaos.
A smile tugged at his lips, faint but genuine. He needed to see her. To be near her, even if just for a little while. Pushing himself up, he rose from the chair, his steps surprisingly light as he made his way down the hall. There was a hopeful, almost childlike glow in his eyes.
"Maybe I'll make chicken noodle soup for her..." he murmured, voice low, almost to himself.
He paused mid-step, a nostalgic expression crossing his face. "Mhmmm yes... I'll do that... I think I remember Mom's recipe..."
Turning on his heel, Shigaraki headed toward the kitchen area with newfound purpose. The storm inside him momentarily calmed, replaced by a simple, quiet resolve — to care for Jess in the smallest, most human ways he could. After all, she was his now; Master had given her to him. So in a way, she was his wife.
Geten and the others watched him, frowning as Tomura disappeared down the hall. Geten shook his head. "What was up with that creepy smile...?" he asked.
Skeptic sighed. "He's gonna be shocked once he finds out... probably kill us all."
Eyes widened at him. "What do you mean...?" Geten asked again.
Toga, who had been downstairs after Dabi and Jess left, frowned at Skeptic. She stepped over and pressed her knife under his chin, shocking everyone.
Luckily, Shigaraki was still in the kitchen. "You will not tell, understand, little man?" she said quietly.
Skeptic gulped. "I wasn't...," he whispered. "I deleted all the camera's video's..."
Twice couldn't even say anything.
Spinner looked confused.
Compress sat there clutching his book.
Re-Destro, in his wheelchair, sighed. "What's done is done... He needs to learn that not everything is his just because Master said it is. Everyone keep quiet... let him find out on his own..."
No one had any idea what they were talking about.
Toga moved her knife slightly. "Good..." she whispered, then walked off.
They'd been walking for almost half an hour. Finally, they stopped. Jess blinked as Dabi knelt down in front of a hatch door embedded into the concrete floor. He pulled out a thick, like a year old made key and slid it into the keyhole, turning it with a heavy click.
"Here we are. My hideout," he said. "You go first, okay?"
Jess nodded and carefully stepped down the ladder. When she reached the bottom, she looked around in quiet awe. Above her, Dabi climbed halfway down, then reached up to shut the hatch behind him. He locked it from the inside with a practiced twist, then descended the rest of the way.
Crossing over to the wall, he flicked a switch. The overhead lights hummed to life.
Jess blinked at the sight.
This underground bunker, hidden deep in the sewer system, was nothing like she'd expected. It was a lived-in studio apartment with a distinctly retro-futuristic vibe. Concrete walls met warm industrial lighting. It had a rough charm—part grunge, part comfort.
The main room held a small kitchen, complete with an old-fashioned refrigerator, a gas stove, and cluttered counters filled with mismatched utensils and lived-in touches. Nearby, a desk overflowed with books, loose papers, and a dusty computer monitor.
Dabi gave her a small smile. "Let me show you around. It's not much, but I've been living here long before joining the League."
To the left was a compact bathroom, its green-checkered curtain slightly drawn back. Inside, a corner sink, toilet, and small shelf of toiletries were neatly arranged.
Jess glanced in. It was small, but it was real. Safe.
He turned again, leading her back toward the main room where the kitchen bled into a sleeping area.
"This is the bed," he said, scratching the back of his neck. "Sorry there's only one. I'll see if I can find a futon or something. I don't mind taking the floor."
Jess glanced around at the space—small but thoughtfully organized. A folding bed jutted from the wall, flanked by built-in shelves and a tiny nightstand. The room was filled with personal touches: old posters, collected trinkets, a couple photos pinned up with makeshift tape.
(This is a fallout 4 bunker I found on nexus, this is what Dabi's hideout looks like, of course without fallout items and mannequin)
"It's okay," she said softly. "I don't mind sharing, if you can't find anything else... I trust you."
Dabi blinked at her. "Y-You sure?"
Jess nodded, cheeks pink.
Dabi exhaled slowly. "I need to clean out the fridge... Why don't you take a shower? There's hot water."
Jess raised an eyebrow. "Down here? How do you even have power?"
Dabi chuckled. "This place has its own power source. Right under our feet. Took me a while to fix it—had to steal a book on mechanics to figure it out."
"How did you even find this place?" she asked, stepping closer.
Dabi sat down on the edge of the bed, eyes growing distant. "I was eighteen. Got jumped by a group of thugs and ended up running into the tunnels, bleeding out. The old man who lived here—he found me. He had a healing quirk. Said he used to be in the army. He patched me up."
He paused, then added more quietly, "I came back a year later to visit. Found him on the floor... He'd passed away. Heart attack. I did find a note. He stated he had no family. He left me the bunker... said I could have it if anything happen to him. Asked me to cremate him and scatter his ashes at sea."
Jess didn't speak. She just sat beside him, hands folded in front of her hoodie.
This place—it wasn't just a hideout. It was a piece of Dabi's past. A piece of his heart.
"Why did you join the League...?" Jess asked quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.
Dabi stood up, his expression darkening. "Revenge. Against my old man. He's an abusive piece of shit... I needed to destroy everything he built." He paused, then looked at her more directly. "I had to get you out.... After hearing what they were going to do to you... I couldn't let that happen. I couldn't let you turn into my mother." His voice cracked slightly. "No. I couldn't..."
Jess's eyes widened, stunned by the raw emotion in his words. As she stepped closer, she noticed something trailing from beneath his eyepatches.
"You're bleeding..." she said softly.
Dabi sighed and rubbed the side of his face with the heel of his hand. "Yeah. Happens when you burn your tear ducts. It's not much, just... kind of leaks sometimes."
He turned away, his voice shifting back to casual. "I'll go clean out the fridge. It's probably gross by now. Toga said she packed you some soaps and stuff." He hesitated, clearly flustered. "Uh... do you want to wait until I leave? The shower's kind of... connected to the kitchen."
Jess chuckled gently. "There's a curtain, isn't there? I'll change behind it. No peeking."
Dabi flushed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I wasn't gonna..."
Back at the Villa, Tomura glared down at the pot of soup in front of him like it had personally betrayed him.
He took another taste—then grimaced. No, no, no. This wasn't right at all. It was nothing like his mother's. The flavor was wrong. The texture was weird. The noodles were mushy, the chicken somehow both under and overcooked, and the broth had the nerve to be bland.
He scowled, nearly shaking with frustration. I can't serve this to Jess! he thought in horror. She's my wife!
The kitchen door creaked open, and his inner circle—minus Dabi—peeked in with cautious expressions.
"Boss... you okay?" Mr. Compress asked slowly.
Tomura bit his lip, eyes wild. "I can't serve this to her! I ruined chicken noodle soup!"
Twice, curious, stepped further into the kitchen and lifted his mask just enough to dip a spoon into the pot. He slurped a mouthful... and immediately froze.
Everyone watched in silence.
Then he dropped the spoon, staggered to the sink, and dramatically gagged. "I'VE BEEN POISONED!! IT'S EVIL!!"
He coughed into the basin, water blasting as he shoved his face under the faucet.
"Okay, that's a bit much," Spinner muttered from the doorway, arms crossed.
"No... he's right," Skeptic added solemnly. "That broth's a war crime."
Tomura's eye twitched. "Shut up."
Geten sighed and stepped further into the kitchen. "Alright, dump it. Sheesh. Didn't All For One give you cooking lessons or something?"
Tomura growled under his breath.
"Fine, whatever. I'll show you how it's really done," Geten continued, rolling up his sleeves. "My Auntie Rei's recipe—famous Himura chicken soup. Can't believe I have to save life with broth."
Everyone blinked at him.
"Himura?" Spinner asked, confused. "As in that rich, ancient ice family?"
Geten rolled his eyes dramatically. "Yes. Where do you think I get my looks from?" He tugged off his parka and ruffled his snowy white hair with a smirk. "It's called genetics."
He turned to Tomura and clapped his hands. "Alright, boss. Let's toss that culinary disaster of yours down the garbage disposal. Can't kill the princess with that crap, can we?"
Tomura bristled. "Shut up."
Geten raised a brow. "Are you trying to poison her?"
Twice coughed into the sink. "Still evil... I can taste death..."
"Get him some water," Compress muttered.
Spinner handed over a glass while Compress looked over at their boss, eyeing him closely. "Tomura... have you fallen for the Princess...?"
The room went still.
Tomura froze, his face turning slightly red.
"Is that why we haven't been hearing her screams anymore?" Compress added, his voice quieter this time.
Tomura didn't answer.
Toga's voice cut through the silence from the doorway. "Funny way of showing it," she said coldly, eyes narrowed.
All eyes turned to her, then back to Tomura, uncertain.
Tomura scowled. "What?"
Toga looked furious. "I know what you did," she said. "Why did you do it to her?"
His jaw clenched. "You don't know what you're talking about."
Toga stepped into the room fully now, arms crossed. "Fine. Be in denial about it," she muttered. "I'm going to bed."
As she turned to leave, Tomura snapped, "Bring me Dabi. Tell him I need him to go out and—"
Toga cut him off, voice sharp. "He's out recruiting. All night, apparently. Finally doing what you told him to do yesterday."
In truth, only she and Skeptic knew where Dabi really was.
After dumping everything in the fridge, Dabi rubbed his temples and sighed. It had all gone bad, just as he expected.
Jess was still in the shower, the sound of water echoing softly from the bathroom. Before leaving, he'd stepped near the curtain and quietly told her, "I'm heading out to get groceries. I'll lock the hatch from the outside. You okay with that?"
From behind the curtain, her voice had come gently: "It's okay."
So now, here he was—up top again, walking through a quiet, run-down neighborhood nestled above the sewer system. The streets were dim and nearly empty, the air humid and heavy. He kept his hood low as he headed for the 24/7 convenience store tucked between a pawn shop and a boarded-up pharmacy. It was run by an ex-villain named Rango, a man who'd taken a liking to Dabi years ago when he was sixteen and living rough on the streets.
The list in his pocket was crumpled but legible. Just enough food and essentials to last maybe a week—nothing fancy, just things Jess could eat while she continued to recover.
His mind briefly flicked back to her: the way she still trembled a little when moving her hands, the faint red rings around her wrists from the shock cuffs. It had taken effort—and control—to melt through them without burning her. He'd never been that careful with his fire before.
It scared him a little.
But it also meant something.
The flickering neon sign above the door read "KOI" in bold pink letters, a fish-shaped light looping lazily beside it. It was the kind of place no one asked questions—a perfect match for someone like him.
Dabi pulled his hood lower and pushed the door open. A small bell chimed overhead, and the familiar scent of instant noodles, engine oil, and cheap disinfectant hit him. The shop was cramped but packed—shelves lined with canned goods, stacked rice bags, odd hardware items, and boxes of off-brand cereal. A beat-up cooler hummed in the back next to a dusty shelf of expired magazines.
He pushed through the narrow aisle toward the counter. The harsh fluorescent lights cast deep shadows across the cluttered shelves. Behind the counter sat Rango, a wiry old man with silver stubble and a heavily scarred face, flipping through a newspaper and sipping something dark from a cracked mug. One of his robotic left arm whirred softly as he turned the page.
"Well, look who it is," Rango drawled without looking up. "Thought life with that League was good for you?"
Dabi's lips curled into a tight smirk as he approached. "Don't mention this to anyone," he warned, sliding his hood back just enough to reveal the burn scars around his eyes. "I left that group. I need some... food and everyday supplies." He handed Rango a crumpled list.
Rango finally set the paper down and arched a cybernetic brow, scanning the list. "Everyday supplies, huh?" he murmured, tapping it with a metal fingertip. "Eggs, rice, bread, ramen, canned soup, snacks... and what's this—'ingredients for proper meals'?"
Dabi leaned heavily on the counter, voice dropping into a rare, hesitant tone. "Yeah. My... girlfriend. She's sick. Needs real food." His mind recoiled at the word, as if it didn't belong to him—Why did I say girlfriend?
Rango's eyes widen, a flicker of surprise breaking through his usual gruffness. "Girlfriend?" he said, voice low, almost amused. "Well, damn. So some girl made you throw away your revenge—and the whole damn League?"
A flush crept up Dabi's neck, burning hotter than his scars. "Look, I'm not here for a lecture. Can you help me or not?"
Rango studied him for a long moment, the mechanical whirr of his arm the only sound filling the silence. "You're serious about this, huh?"
Dabi's gaze dropped to the stained countertop. "More than anything."
The old man nodded slowly, then bent to grab a battered plastic bag from beneath the counter. "Alright, I'll hook you up. But listen—I don't know how long you've been out, but the city's not kind to soft spots. You'll need more than food to keep her alive."
Dabi looked up sharply, the weight of Rango's words settling over him like a shadow. "I know."
Rango's eyes softened just a bit, almost fatherly beneath the scars. "Then don't waste your second chance. Get her healthy. And next time, bring her with you."
Dabi's throat tightened. He knew he couldn't—at least not yet. She wasn't safe enough, and the Embassy was the only place that could really help her.
"Maybe..." he said, voice rough but steady. "I left the League. I'm in hiding with her. I need to get back on my feet—food and everyday stuff."
He glanced at the list Rango held, then added quietly, "Don't leave out the dish soap and laundry pods. And Day and Night Quill to help her sleep off the fever."
Rango's cybernetic fingers tapped the paper thoughtfully.
Dabi swallowed hard, voice dropping to almost a whisper. "Oh, and whole milk... she likes whole milk. She wrote it on the list herself... when she made it."
For a long moment, Rango just stared at the crumpled paper, then met Dabi's gaze with something close to understanding.
"Alright," he said finally, stuffing the groceries into the battered bag with deliberate care. "If she's got a fever, you better watch her close. This city'll chew you up if you're not careful."
Dabi nodded silently, gripping the bag's handles tight. Outside, the neon sign flickered, casting a soft pink glow that seemed to promise—maybe this time, he could actually keep her safe.
Tomura descended the creaking staircase, each step careful but deliberate, his hands steady despite the weight of the soup tray he carried. Every pair of eyes in the room followed him, tense and watchful. Skeptic lounged on the couch, muscles coiled and ready, his expression a mix of boredom and anticipation—as if bracing for a tantrum that never quite came.
Turning the corner, Tomura vanished from their sight for a moment, his flushed cheeks and the faint, almost uncharacteristic smile barely visible. The doctor looked up from his cluttered lab bench, brow arching in surprise as Tomura passed by, the unusual expression softening his usual hard edges. "Huh?" he murmured, curiosity flickering behind his eyes.
Tomura's steps slowed as he reached Jess's door. It stood ajar, swinging gently as if recently disturbed by a careless hand. His breath caught, the heat draining from his face, replaced by a sudden chill. He froze on the threshold, eyes widening as his gaze swept the room.
The cold metal of the chains lay discarded on the floor, the heavy key glinting innocently nearby.
His heart hammered fiercely against his ribs, a tempest of disbelief and dread crashing over him. His fingers tightened around the tray until the wood groaned under the pressure. His lips pressed together, biting back the surge of panic rising in his throat.
She was gone.
The realization hit him like a physical blow. The safety and control he thought he had dissolved in an instant. His hands began to tremble uncontrollably, the tray slipping from his grasp, crashing to the floor with a splash of cold soup that seemed to mock his helplessness.
Silence swallowed the room—then exploded as Tomura's voice ripped through the air, raw and desperate.
"WHERE IS JESS?!"
The sound echoed off the walls, filled with a fractured mix of rage, fear, and a hollow pain no one was prepared to face.
For a moment, the power he always wielded felt distant and meaningless, swallowed by the void left behind where she had been.
The doctor rushed forward, eyes widening as they landed on the mess—the soup pooling across the floor, soaking into the cracked tiles that were already starting to decay. His voice cut through the charged silence, calm but firm, trying to steady the storm before him.
"Tomura, calm down... don't make me put you to sleep."
Tomura spun toward him, eyes blazing with fury and desperation. "Where is Jess?!" His voice cracked, raw with disbelief. "You didn't notice her door was wide open? She got out?! How?!"
The doctor swallowed hard, shifting uneasily. "I—no. I didn't see. The sensors didn't trigger any alarms."
Tomura's breath hitched, his hands balling into fists. "Then what the hell happened?"
Tomura's fists clenched, nails digging into his palms. "She escaped by herself?"
The doctor nodded slowly. "Chains weren't secured properly maybe? or she found a way to slip them. She must have been stronger than we thought."
Tomura's eyes darkened, the faintest edge of disbelief mixing with anger. "No one helped her."
"No one," the doctor confirmed. "She did this alone."
Tomura's jaw clenched tight. "Then I'll find her. No matter what." His voice dropped, sharp and cold. "She can't get far without her quirk. I know she still has those thought cuffs on..."
He strode past the doctor and reached the bottom of the stairs, glancing upward. The members stood silently, staring down at him, shock and fear flickering in their eyes.
"Find her," Tomura commanded, voice low but lethal. "Search the woods. She can't go far—especially with that fever."
His eyes locked onto each of them, burning with deadly resolve. "Know this—if she's not found soon, I'll kill every last one of you."
Compress's brow furrowed as he stepped forward, folding his arms across his chest. His eyes locked onto Tomura's burning glare, searching for any trace of hesitation beneath the fury.
"Would you really do that?" Compress asked, his voice low but steady—more curiosity than accusation. "Kill us all over this?"
Tomura's jaw tightened, but instead of snapping back, he looked away, biting his lip as if fighting an internal battle. For a moment, the fierce storm in his eyes softened, replaced by something raw and uncertain—pain, maybe.
The silence stretched between them, thick and heavy, until Compress finally spoke again. "Tomura... don't threaten us like that. This isn't the way. We know what's at stake. We'll search every inch of that forest for her."
Tomura's shoulders sagged, the weight of the situation pressing down on him. He glanced down, voice barely above a whisper. "Sorry... I didn't mean—just... find her. Please."
The room seemed to breathe a collective sigh, the tension loosening just a fraction. But in the shadow behind Tomura's words lingered the desperate fear—the unbearable thought of losing Jess, and the terrible cost if they failed.
The bunker was a small refuge from the chaos above—cozy, slightly warm, and filled with the quiet hum of the old box TV perched on a battered stand. Jess lay on the narrow bed, wrapped in a soft throw blanket toga backed in Dabi's army like backpack, her eyes fixed on the flickering screen.
The news played softly, voices reporting in clipped tones: "Celtica's forces continue their search for the missing princess, aided by top heroes..." The mention of her family brought a faint smile to Jess's lips. Even here, far underground, the connection to her home still pulsed strong.
Would Dabi let her reach out? Let her contact them and tell them she was safe, that she'd be home soon once it was truly secure? The thought hovered, fragile and distant—like a promise waiting to be fulfilled.
Suddenly, the hatch above creaked open.
"Jess, can you come here?" Dabi's voice echoed down the ladder.
She swung her legs off the bed and hurried over, climbing quickly toward the opening. As she poked her head up, Dabi lowered a crate down, heavy with bags of food and everyday essentials.
Jess's hands moved swiftly, unpacking everything with practiced care—rice, fresh vegetables, dish soap, even the small bottle of Day and Night Quill she'd asked for. Each item was a lifeline.
When she finished, Dabi pulled the crate back up with a quiet clatter, then climbed down himself. He locked the hatch behind him with a steady hand.
For a moment, they just looked at each other in the dim light—two people holding onto fragile hope in a world that threatened to tear them apart. The weight of the day clung to him, evident in the slump of his shoulders and the faint shadows beneath his eyes. But the bunker—quiet and dimly lit—offered a peace he didn't get anywhere else.
Jess was already moving, sorting through the supplies and setting them out across the small kitchen counter, her motions both eager and careful. It was mundane, almost domestic—and that made it strange. Comforting, too.
"We should put the milk in the cooler before it spoils," he muttered, brushing past her gently as he grabbed a can of soup and a couple of ramen packs.
She opened the cooler and placed the carton inside, then turned back to the bags. "You got everything," she said quietly, almost surprised. "Even the Quill. And Oranges."
"Yeah, well... figured you'd want something that didn't taste like cardboard." He avoided her eyes, crouching to tuck a box of rice into the lower cabinet.
Jess smiled faintly and began lining up the canned goods. "I forgot how nice it feels to do something normal."
Dabi paused mid-movement, his fingers brushing the edge of a tin lid. "Normal's not something I've been good at."
She glanced over at him. "You're doing fine."
He snorted, shutting the cabinet with a quiet thud. "Sure. Living in a sewer with a wanted fugitive. Real domestic dream."
Jess didn't laugh, but her smile softened. "Better than being chained up in a psychopath's lair."
He flinched slightly but said nothing. Instead, he moved to the dish soap and set it beside the sink.
They worked in silence for a bit, moving around each other in the narrow space with an unspoken rhythm. When the bags were finally empty and the small kitchen looked decently stocked, Dabi leaned against the counter, arms crossed loosely.
"You're sure you're okay staying down here for a while?" he asked, his voice low. "Toga texted me... he's making the whole group out there looking for you."
Jess nodded, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. "I saw the news. My family's here... they came for me."
Something flickered in Dabi's expression, but he didn't speak.
"I want to go to them," Jess continued. "But only when it's safe. I don't want to lead anyone back here. Not to you."
Dabi looked away, his voice quiet but certain. "I'll get you there. I promise."
Their eyes met again, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Jess believed him. That promise—I'll get you there—it wasn't just words.
"Can I connect with them?" she asked softly. "Tell them I'm okay? That I'm safe?"
Dabi glanced toward the desk in the corner, then gave a small nod. "Yeah," he said, jerking his thumb in that direction. "Landline. The old man who used to live here—he rigged it up. Calls don't get traced. He was some kind of ex-military tech job. Paranoid, but smart."
Jess followed his gesture, her eyes landing on the battered rotary phone sitting next to a thick coil of cables and hand-labeled switches.
"I understand," she said, nodding, then looked back at him. "Thank you, Dabi."
He hesitated. Something flickered behind his eyes. Then—almost without thinking—he said it:
"Touya."
The name hung in the air between them, like a stone dropped into still water. Even Dabi looked surprised to hear it come out of his own mouth.
Jess blinked, her expression softening. "Touya...?"
He nodded once, slowly. "My real name. I'm giving it to you—just the first one. You can still call me Dabi... or Touya. Whatever you want."
Jess's smile came slowly, full of warmth. "Dabi will always be a part of you, Touya."
She stepped closer, wrapping her arms around him in a gentle, grateful hug. He stiffened at first, caught off guard, then let out a shaky breath and relaxed into it.
"Thank you," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "For everything."
His face flushed with heat, the tips of his ears burning. Then her stomach growled, loud and unapologetic.
Dabi chuckled, the tension easing. He rested a hand on her back, rubbing it lightly. "Go ahead. Make the call." He stepped away, heading toward the tiny kitchen space. "I'll start on some soup. My mom's homemade chicken noodle. I still remember the recipe."
Jess lingered for a second, watching him move through the space like he belonged there—quiet, capable, and something more than just Dabi. Then she turned toward the phone, heart thudding as she prepared to dial home.
Inside the secured briefing room of the temporary Celtican Embassy, tension hung thick in the air. The walls, lined with communication monitors and hastily pinned maps of the surrounding forests, were a visual reminder of how long the search had dragged on.
James sat at the head of the table, hands clasped, back straight despite the exhaustion etched deep in his face. He hadn't slept properly in weeks. The top-ranking pro heroes sat nearby—Endeavor, Hawks, Best Jeanist, Edgeshot—all gathered in solidarity, every one of them briefed on the stakes.
No one spoke. No one dared to break the silence.
Then, the doors burst open.
Frank rushed in, his coat still half on, breathless and wide-eyed. "Your Grace!" he blurted, his voice cracking slightly. "It's Jess! We've received a call from her!"
All eyes turned to him in a flash. James stood so fast his chair scraped back hard across the tile. Dawn, who had been seated silently on the couch near the far wall, shot to her feet, her hands trembling.
"Patch her through—now!" she commanded, her voice sharp with urgency and fire. The overhead lights flickered faintly as her thermal core flared just beneath the surface, a visceral reaction to her daughter's name.
Frank gave a sharp nod and ducked back into the hallway. Within seconds, a technician in a headset appeared behind the wall of monitors, fingers flying across a keyboard. One of the main screens lit up, the audio line already connecting.
Static cracked through the speakers. A slow, uncertain breath filtered in.
Then a voice—soft, familiar, shaken but unmistakably hers.
"...Hello? Mom? Dad? It's me. I'm okay."
Dawn's hand flew to her mouth as her knees nearly buckled. James didn't breathe. The entire room held still, as if afraid to interrupt the fragile miracle of that voice.
Jess was alive.
And she had just called home.
Dawn's eyes welled up with tears the moment she heard her daughter's voice. She pressed her hand to her mouth, trying to keep her composure, but her voice trembled as she stepped closer to the microphone.
"Oh honey! Where are you?! Who took you?!" she pleaded, her voice cracking with both relief and fear.
James placed a steady hand on her shoulder, his own expression tight with emotion. "Thank God you contacted us, sweetheart. Your uncle was this close to sending the entire Celtican army into Japan."
The Top pro heroes around the room stiffened visibly. The weight of that statement wasn't lost on anyone. Before Jess's call had come through, James had been in the middle of a tense, quiet discussion with the heroes—warning them that King Jetter of Celtica, Jess's uncle, was no longer content to wait and pray. He had warships on standby.
Hawks leaned forward, his brow furrowed with intense concern. "Princess, this is Hawks," he said quickly. "Where are you? Tell me, and I'll fly to you. I'll bring you home right away."
There was a pause on the line. A breath. A choice.
"I'm staying where I am," Jess said quietly. "Please... understand. I need to lay low for a while. I'm safe, but... he's still looking for me. I need him to give up before I can come home."
Dawn pressed a hand to her heart. "Who?" she asked, voice barely above a whisper.
Silence.
Then—
"Tomura Shigaraki."
The room froze.
Hawks recoiled in his chair like he'd just been struck. His wings twitched violently, the color draining from his face.
"I..." he whispered. "I was wrong."
Endeavor's brow tightened. Best Jeanist stood slowly, his jaw set.
So it was the League. Or the Liberation Front. They had taken the Celtican princess.
And somehow—she had escaped.
The implications were explosive.
But right now, only one thing mattered: Jess was alive.
"If you're thinking the whole group was in on it..." Jess's voice came through the speaker again, firm despite its strain, "you're wrong. It wasn't the League. Just Shigaraki... and that Doctor of his. He said he was following orders from All For One."
A stunned hush fell across the embassy war room.
Endeavor's jaw tightened. "But... All For One is in Tartarus. He's locked up."
Jess's voice lowered. "Dabi said he still has communication with him. And I believe him. He's not lying."
Hawks straightened in his seat, brow furrowed. "Wait... Dabi?"
"Yes," Jess answered. "Dabi and... Toga. They got me out. Toga stayed behind, but she's planning to leave too. She said she wants to surrender herself to U.A. for protection. I'm with Dabi now. I'm safe with him."
The words hit the room like a lightning strike.
"Princess!" Endeavor barked. "You're with a murderer! A villain! He's unstable and dangerous—we need to get to you immediately. We'll arrest him and bring you home safely."
A voice cut in before he could say another word.
"Be quiet, old man."
The room froze. It was unmistakable—raspy, cool, and lined with barely-suppressed anger.
Dabi.
"She's one hundred percent safe with me," he said coldly. "Hawks, you know why the entire Villa was so damn quiet every time you showed up?"
Hawks didn't answer, but his face had gone pale.
"It wasn't just tension," Dabi continued. "It was because every time you came... the screaming stopped. Her screaming. No one could take it anymore. I couldn't take it anymore. Shigaraki was using his quirk, just short of activation. Using it to hurt her. Pain. Not death. Prolonged, sharp pain. She was chained, feverish, barely able to eat... and no one did anything."
Dawn let out a broken sob. James clenched his fists.
"I had to her get out," Dabi continued, voice shaking for the first time. "I couldn't listen to it anymore. So I broke rank. I took her and ran."
Hawks looked like he'd been punched in the gut. "She... she was there the whole time? At the Villa?" His hands gripped the table. "I could have gotten her out..."
Dabi didn't say anything.
"That's why Shigaraki didn't want me around," Hawks murmured. "That whole story about a member dying... everyone mourning for days... that was a lie, wasn't it?"
"Yes," Dabi confirmed. "A lie to keep you away. So you wouldn't hear her. So you wouldn't see her."
Silence choked the room.
Then Jess's voice returned, softer this time. "I'm okay now. I'm safe. I promise."
Dawn leaned forward, tears streaking down her cheeks. "Sweetheart... please. Just come back to us. We'll protect you. We'll protect him, if we have to. Just come home."
"I will," Jess said at last, her voice soft but unwavering. "But not yet. I'll call you again when we're ready to head to the Embassy."
There was a beat of silence before she added, almost like an afterthought, "They had me in Luminite cuffs."
The effect was immediate. James shot to his feet, eyes wide. "What? That's impossible... Luminite restraints aren't even on the market yet."
Frank's brow furrowed. "Unless someone stole a pair from the R&D labs..."
Across the room, Dawn's expression twisted with alarm and fury. "She's allergic to Luminite. You know that!" her voice cracking. "Honey... sweetheart... are you okay? Are you still reacting?"
Jess took a slow breath. "Slightly, Mama. Still running fevers off and on. But I'm stable. Dabi—" her voice wavered slightly, "—he kind of melted them off me."
The room fell deadly silent.
Frank blinked. "Wait... he melted them?"
Jess nodded, though they couldn't see it. "Yeah. With his flames. So... they must've been defective prototypes, right? If they were the final product, they wouldn't have reacted to heat like that."
The implication sank in like lead.
James stepped back, clearly shaken. "If that's true... then someone in our own government labs either leaked unfinished models... or sold them. That tech should've been sealed under military-grade containment."
Dawn gripped the table, knuckles white. "If those were real Luminite cuffs, Dabi wouldn't have been able to destroy them. They're built to resist heat, acid, electric surges... of any quirk..." Her eyes filled with tears again. "She could've died from exposure."
Frank rubbed his temples. "We need a full investigation. Immediately."
Jess's voice returned, softer now, wrapped in fatigue but steady with resolve.
"Please... I just want you to know I'm alive. I'm healing. And I'm not alone. When it's safe... we'll come home."
A pause—then her voice dipped further, almost into a whisper.
"I'm gonna hang up now... Keep this call a secret. Please. Just tell Uncle to stand down... make sure he doesn't send the whole army here."
James nodded slowly, as if she could see him. "We will."
Jess continued, "Still let the Royal Guard and the heroes keep looking, but only as if they haven't heard from me. Make Tomura think I haven't reached any of you yet. He needs to believe I'm still out there alone."
Dawn's breath hitched. "Okay, sweetheart... okay."
Jess exhaled, a shaky little breath that nearly broke them all.
"Dabi says I need to eat and lay down. He made me soup." A pause. "I'll call again soon, I promise."
James leaned in closer to the receiver, his voice thick with emotion. "We love you, sweetheart. Stay hidden. Stay smart. And... thank him for us."
There was a soft click as the line disconnected.
For a moment, no one spoke. The embassy command room, once full of tension and clamor, was swallowed by a heavy, reverent silence.
Dawn slumped forward and buried her face in her hands, sobbing quietly into James's shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her protectively, jaw locked tight as his eyes glistened with restrained tears.
"She's alive..." he whispered, almost like he had to hear the words aloud to believe them. "She's safe."
Frank stood motionless at the edge of the room, arms crossed, but the muscle twitching along his jaw gave away the storm behind his eyes.
Hawks sat heavily on the armrest of a nearby chair, face pale, eyes lowered. His wings drooped behind him, feathers slightly puffed with unease.
"All this time..." he muttered. "She was right there, and I didn't even see it."
Best Jeanist, who had remained quiet until now, adjusted his gloves slowly. "We can't dwell on what we missed. We focus on protecting her now."
Mirko cracked her knuckles, pacing by the window. "If that bastard Shigaraki even breathes in her direction again, I'll put him in the ground myself."
Edgeshot nodded grimly, arms folded. "We move carefully. She asked for secrecy—for time. That means no leaks, no hasty decisions."
Endeavor's shoulders tensed as he stared at the ceiling, heat flickering along his gauntlets. When he spoke, his voice was low, hard as stone.
"She's with him," he muttered. "And we're thanking him?"
Frank stepped forward, cutting through the tension. "Yes, Endeavor. We're thanking him—him and toga the one who saved her. Treated her wounds, kept her alive." His tone brooked no argument.
A hush fell again, broken only by the soft hum of the comms consoles. Then Dawn lifted her head, eyes fierce even through her tears.
"Whatever happens... we hold the line until she comes home. Dabi has full amnesty. I'll speak to the Emperor of Japan myself and clear his record."
The room went utterly still. A dozen hardened heroes exchanged stunned glances—save for James and Frank, who simply nodded.
At last Hawks cleared his throat, voice tight with disbelief. "What about Toga?"
Frank glanced at the wall of monitors, then back at the empty chair where the princess's seat had been. "The princess said Toga helped, too. She plans to surrender to U.A. for protection."
Endeavor's fists unclenched, then clenched again. "There villain's...! They are Dangerous."
Mirko cracked her neck, eyes narrowing. "Dangerous, yes—but if it brings Jess home, I'll back it."
Best Jeanist folded his arms, gaze sweeping the room. "Then it's settled. We secure the lines of communication, tighten surveillance in the woods, and prepare an extraction team—for both Jess and Toga."
Edgeshot nodded. "We move at first light."
Silence reigned for a heartbeat longer, then resolve rippled through the group. The princess was alive, and they would not rest until she—and her unlikely saviors—were safely home.
Chapter Text
The bunker was silent, save for the soft hum of the oscillating fan turning steadily in the corner. Darkness blanketed the space, heavy and undisturbed, the faint red glow of the heater switch the only real source of light. But even that had been flicked off hours ago—neither of them liked sleeping with the heat on. They'd both learned that about each other the night before. Just like they'd discovered they couldn't sleep without some kind of white noise.
A fan.
Of all things, a simple fan helped them sleep.
Jess lay curled on her side, the blankets pulled up to her shoulders. The cold didn't bother her—she looked peaceful, for once, her breathing slow and even. The NightQuil had done its job. Her cheeks still held a faint flush from the lingering fever, but her body was finally resting.
Dabi stirred behind her, eyes cracking open as the tug of morning discomfort nudged him awake. His mind was still foggy, dreams dissolving into the edges of sleep, but he immediately noticed the weight of something warm under his arm. Blinking slowly, he realized his arm had ended up draped across her waist during the night.
His eyes widened slightly, a slow flush creeping up his neck.
huh...?
He hadn't meant to—he must've rolled in his sleep.
Carefully, painfully slowly, he peeled his arm away, as if one wrong move would shatter the delicate silence between them. Jess didn't stir. The fan continued to whir.
Holding his breath, Dabi sat up and quietly climbed out of the bed, his boots still by the foot of it. His bare feet met the chilly concrete floor as he padded across the bunker to the small bathroom area tucked behind a curtain hanging from a bent ceiling rod.
He drew the curtain closed behind him, it was long enough, which offered much privacy, but it was something. After his business, the water pipes gave a faint groan as he turned on the sink. He washed his hands in the rust-edged basin, the cracked mirror above it offering a crooked glimpse of his face—tired eyes, wild hair, staples gleaming faintly under the low light.
He stared at his reflection for a moment.
Same scars. Same shadows.
But something felt... different.
Maybe it was her.
Maybe it was the quiet.
Maybe it was the fact he hadn't woken up angry, cold, or burning with regret.
For the first time in years, he didn't feel like he was walking through ash alone.
Or maybe—for the first time in a long time—he didn't feel entirely alone.
Dabi quietly stepped back through the curtain, letting it fall shut behind him. The bunker remained still, that low hum of the fan filling the room like a soft lullaby. He walked slowly, mindful of every creak in the old floor and the way even his breath seemed too loud in the silence.
Jess hadn't moved. Her dark lashes fanned over her cheeks, lips parted slightly in sleep. A few strands of hair clung to her forehead, damp with lingering sweat. Even beneath the blankets, he could tell her body was still fighting.
He crouched beside the bed, arms resting on the mattress edge as he watched her for a second.
So damn stubborn. She always had that fire in her. But she looked so small right now—too pale, too quiet.
His hand lifted slowly. He brushed her bangs back, fingers careful not to wake her, and pressed the back of his hand to her forehead.
Still warm. But not blazing like yesterday. That was something.
He leaned to the nightstand, grabbed the old digital thermometer, and thumbed the power button. The small device blinked to life with a soft chirp. With practiced care, he placed the strip against her forehead and waited, eyes flicking between her sleeping face and the tiny screen.
A few long seconds passed.
Beep.
He pulled it away and glanced at the number.
101.2°F.
Better than yesterday. Still too high.
Dabi let out a slow breath through his nose.
Still sick. Still fighting it. But she was trending the right way.
"Stubborn girl," he murmured, almost to himself. He set the thermometer down and rested his elbows on the edge of the bed again, watching her quietly.
She didn't even flinch when he spoke. That cough syrup had knocked her flat. Maybe that was for the best.
"Don't worry," he whispered, brushing her hair back once more. "I'll keep you safe."
And this time, he meant it with every beat of his heart.
Just as he began to pull away, a soft hum slipped from her lips. Dabi froze, blinking down at her.
It was a gentle little sound—almost like the beginnings of a tune—and it caught him off guard.
Was she... humming in her sleep?
She did it again, barely audible under the blanket. Then came a whisper, soft and dreamy:
"Touya..."
His heart stuttered.
Dabi sat back on his heels, swallowing hard. His face flushed instantly, and he instinctively bit his lower lip, the scarred skin protesting under the pressure.
She'd said it like it meant something. Like it was familiar. Safe.
The name had barely left his mouth the night before—and she'd held onto it, even in her sleep.
That name.
Not Dabi.
Touya.
He looked down at her, expression softening. Her brow twitched faintly in her dreams, her hand curling slightly under her cheek. That same hum again, breathy and light.
Dabi leaned forward slightly, elbow resting on his knee, one hand curling under his chin.
"...You're gonna kill me if you keep saying it like that," he muttered to himself, trying to shake off the sudden tightness in his chest.
His hand lingered near her cheek for just a moment longer before he rose to his feet with a quiet sigh. The bunker was still cloaked in shadows, but the soft blue light from the night lamp on the desk made it feel less like a hole in the ground and more like a small world of their own.
Padding softly across the worn concrete floor, he made his way to the small kitchen nook tucked into the corner. The hum of the fan followed him, muffled now, but still present—comforting in the quiet like a heartbeat in the dark.
He reached for the battered tin of instant coffee, setting water to boil on the portable stove, then leaned against the counter, arms crossed. His eyes wandered to the dusty old cookbook resting on the shelf nearby. The faded corner of a bookmarked page stuck out.
'Maybe I'll make her mom's fluffy pancakes...'
The thought crept in gently, unexpected.
It tugged at a memory—one he hadn't let surface in years.
Flour-dusted fingers. A warm summer morning. The soft sizzling of batter on the pan. Shoto, only five, sitting on a kitchen stool with legs too short to reach the floor, his cheeks still rosy from sleep.
"Wow, Touya-nii! You made this for me?!"
Shoto's eyes had been wide with wonder, his mouth forming a perfect little 'O' as he stared at the stack of jiggly, cloud-like pancakes. His little hands clapped together like it was the best gift in the world.
Dabi squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, the memory like a hot needle behind his ribs. That had been before everything... Before fire and screams and smoke and ruined things.
Before the pain.
He shook his head slowly and opened his eyes again, grounding himself back in the dim, quiet bunker. Jess was here now. She was alive, recovering, safe. And somehow, her presence had unlocked something he hadn't let himself feel in a long time.
"Fluffy pancakes..." he whispered to himself, lips twitching into a faint smile. "Yeah. Sounds good."
He reached for the ingredients—flour, baking powder, sugar, eggs—silently grateful the bunker was stocked well enough for this. He'd memorized the recipe long ago, committed it to memory before the world fell apart. It wasn't just food. It was care. It was home.
And maybe, just maybe... it could be a small slice of peace in this goddamn mess of a world.
Back at the villa, the atmosphere was heavy.
Tomura sat on the edge of Jess's futon, hunched over, his gloved hands trembling slightly as he held a faded black T-shirt between his fingers. It was his favorite—the old Fallout shirt with the cracked Vault Boy logo on the chest—He literally gave it her out of a whim.. she looks so cute in it. she even muttered she liked fallout too but.. She'd worn it to sleep after that. Now, the faint scent of her clung to it, soft and haunting—lavender and worn cotton.
He hated how much he missed it.
The room was dim, curtains drawn, the air stale. No one had dared to touch the place since her escape. Not Toga. Not Spinner. Not even the doctor. Tomura wouldn't let them.
His red eyes, rimmed with exhaustion, stared down at the shirt like it might hold answers he couldn't see. The silence gnawed at him, worse than any scolding All For One could give.
Then the creak of the door.
Tomura didn't look up as the doctor appeared in the doorway, clipboard in hand, shadow stretching across the floor like a specter.
"Tomura," the doctor said calmly, "I have news from All For One."
His fingers twitched. "What now...?" he muttered, barely above a whisper.
The doctor stepped into the room, voice quiet but clear. "He's not pleased you lost her."
Tomura's jaw clenched tightly, his knuckles whitening as he gripped the faded shirt in his hands. The faint scent of her still lingered, a ghost of lavender and warmth that stirred something deep and volatile inside him. His red eyes flashed with a sudden spark of rage—but just as quickly, he forced it down, drawing a sharp breath through his nose as if trying to smother a wildfire before it could ignite.
"I'll get her back," he said, voice low and hardening like molten steel cooling into sharp edges. "Tell him that."
The doctor's eyes flickered behind his thick lenses, unreadable and cold as ever. He stepped closer, lowering his voice until it was almost a whisper, but the weight of his words filled the room like thunder.
"He said you'd say that," the doctor began. "But All For One... he wants results, Tomura. Soon. You have her now—he gave her to you for a reason. This isn't a gift or a punishment. It's a test."
The doctor's gaze sharpened, calculating, as if weighing the very fate of the world on Tomura's shoulders.
"He's knows what you're doing with her. Every move. Every decision. She's more than just a pawn—she's yours, Tomura. And that means everything."
A long pause stretched between them, thick with unspoken threats and dark promises.
"All For One expects more than just possession. He expects legacy." The doctor's voice dropped to a near hiss. "Grandchildren, Tomura. Powerful quirk-bearers to carry on his vision."
The air grew colder, the room shrinking as the weight of the prophecy settled on Tomura's chest like a lead cloak.
He swallowed hard, heart pounding with a mixture of fury, fear, and something dangerously close to reluctant hope. To the rest of the world, Jess was just a captive, a lost pawn in a cruel game. But to him? She was everything.
And he had to bring her back. No matter what it cost.
Jess's eyes fluttered open slowly, her eyelids heavy but her breath steady. The fever still tugged at her edges, but for the first time in days, the haze was lifting.
A warm, irresistible scent curled through the air—sweet and buttery, with just a hint of vanilla and cinnamon. It drifted softly, weaving through the bunker's concrete walls, wrapping around her like a gentle promise.
Pancakes.
Her stomach rumbled quietly, a sudden reminder of how long it had been since she'd eaten something real.
The smell was heavenly—like the chicken noodle soup Dabi had made for her the night before, but somehow lighter, brighter. It stirred something deep inside her, a spark of home and safety she hadn't felt in a long time.
She blinked again and sat up slowly, the blankets sliding from her shoulders. The fan's low hum was the only sound, steady and reassuring.
Jess swung her legs over the side of the bed, feet touching the cold floor. The warmth from the smell nudged her forward, pulling her toward the tiny kitchen nook where she could see the flicker of flame beneath a battered frying pan.
Dabi was there, his back turned as he carefully flipped a golden pancake, the edges crisping perfectly. His movements were slow and deliberate, as if this simple act of cooking was something sacred.
When he caught sight of her stirring, a faint smile flickered across his scarred face—soft and genuine, the kind of smile that wasn't often reserved for anyone.
"Morning," he said quietly, voice rough but gentle.
Jess inhaled deeply, letting the warmth of the moment fill her chest. For a few precious seconds, the bunker wasn't a hidden refuge or a place of fear. It was just a kitchen, a morning, and the quiet promise of pancakes.
"M-Morning..." she replied, her voice soft as she returned his smile.
Dabi chuckled lowly, the sound rough but easy. "I set up a kotatsu table over a flush mattress rug. Go ahead and sit down. I'll bring you your breakfast." He glanced toward the small makeshift dining area. "Oh, glass of whole milk or orange juice?"
Jess flushed faintly, biting her lip. "Orange juice... I don't think I can stomach milk right now."
Dabi nodded, already moving to pour the glass with steady hands. The orange liquid caught the light softly as he carried it toward her, setting it down gently on the low table.
She shuffled over to the kotatsu, sinking gratefully beneath its warmth, the soft rug beneath her knees comforting after days of weakness. The smell of the golden pancakes mingled with the cool morning air and the faint hum of the fan, wrapping around them like a quiet promise of safety.
Dabi brought over the plate, carefully stacking the fluffy pancakes, a small dollop of melting butter glistening on top. He set it in front of her with a small smile.
"Dig in. You've earned it."
They ate in comfortable silence at first, the soft clink of cutlery and the quiet hum of the fan filling the space between them. Jess's fingers wrapped around the warm pancake, and as she took her first bite, her eyes widened in surprise.
"Wow," she breathed, her voice filled with genuine awe. "This is delicious... just like your soup last night."
Dabi's lips twitched into a small smile, the kind that softened the scars across his face. "Glad you like it," he murmured, watching her with something close to pride.
Jess swallowed, a shy smile tugging at her lips. "I want to bake you something sometime," she said softly. "I also love to cook and bake... it's a talent I got from my mom and grandma. They taught me everything."
Dabi glanced up, a flicker of interest lighting his eyes. "You know how to bake?" he asked, voice rough but curious.
Jess nodded. "Yeah. I love it..."
Her words hung in the air, heavy but hopeful.
Dabi reached out, his fingers brushing hers just lightly, like a tentative promise. "Mhmm," he murmured, voice rough but warm. "Double chocolate and mint cookies."
Jess's smile widened, a genuine glow spreading through her chest. For the first time in a long while, the future felt a little less daunting—maybe even a little hopeful.
"I love mint chocolate!" she said softly, eyes brightening. "I'd love to bake you some... if we had all the stuff for it."
Dabi chuckled, the sound low and easy. "I can always go up top and grab some."
Jess's expression shifted; a crease of worry flickered across her forehead. "You sure? I'm afraid you won't come back..."
Her voice trembled slightly, barely a whisper.
He met her gaze, steady and unwavering. "I'm coming back," he said simply, but firmly. "No matter what."
The words hung in the quiet bunker like a shield against the darkness outside. Jess nodded, the tension easing from her shoulders.
For now, they had this moment. This small, fragile peace.
Not long, Dabi stood and began gathering his things quietly, the weight of the moment settling around them like the chill creeping through the bunker's thin walls. He pulled on his worn jacket and checked the small pack strapped across his shoulder—ready to head out for supplies.
Jess watched him with a strange mix of gratitude and hesitation, an uneasy feeling tightening in her chest. She wanted to go with him, wanted to move, to escape the suffocating silence and walls closing in around her.
"Touya..." she started, voice soft but urgent.
He paused, glancing back at her, go he loves hearing her saying his name.. "You need to rest," he said firmly but gently. "It's mid-Autumn—days are short and cold. You're still fighting that fever. Going out now would only make it worse."
Jess blinked, pulling her knees closer beneath the kotatsu. "Wait... what day is it?"
Dabi reached into his pocket and pulled out a small prepaid phone, its screen glowing dimly in the soft afternoon light. "October 26th," he said simply.
Her eyes widened as the date settled in. "My birthday's on the 31st..." she murmured, voice barely above a whisper. "I'm turning 24..."
Dabi's eyebrows shot up, a rare smirk curling at the corner of his lips. "You're a Halloween baby?" His voice held a mix of surprise and something softer—like amusement. "That's... cool."
Jess smiled shyly, the small moment of normalcy easing the cold shadow lingering in her mind.
Dabi shrugged, a spark of warmth in his eyes. "Maybe this year, we'll make it one to remember."
He slung the pack over his shoulder and moved toward the hatch. Gripping the ladder's side rails, he paused for a moment, glancing down at Jess lying beneath the kotatsu's warm glow.
"Rest up, Jess. I'll be back before you know it."
Just as he turned to climb the ladder, Jess's hands shot up, grabbing his wrist with a quiet urgency. Dabi looked down, meeting her eyes wide with concern—so genuine, so unexpectedly tender.
A small smile tugged at his lips. He reached out gently, brushing his fingers softly over her cheek.
"I promise I'll be back, okay?"
Jess nodded, her grip tightening slightly. Without quite knowing why, Dabi leaned forward and pressed a careful kiss to her forehead.
"I promise."
The moment hung between them, fragile and real, before Dabi turned back to the ladder. Slowly, deliberately, he began to climb, the hatch creaking open above him. A rush of cold, damp sewer air slipped down the narrow shaft, carrying with it the distant sounds of dripping water and the faint hum of the city far above.
Jess stayed beneath the kotatsu's warmth, heart beating a little faster—holding onto that promise.
Dabi moved steadily through the winding sewer tunnels, the thick fabric of his oversized hoodie pulled tight around him, hood up to shield his burned skin from the biting chill. His mask covered the lower half of his scarred face, and dark sunglasses hid his eyes, reflecting the flickering fluorescent lights overhead. The cold air was sharp and unforgiving, curling around the damp stone walls like a living thing.
But the cold never bothered him. He was immune—his body hardened by years of fire and ice, pain and survival. Where most would shiver and pull their jackets tighter, Dabi welcomed the chill. It was a reminder that he was still alive, still moving forward.
The tunnel stretched out before him like a dark artery beneath the city, wet stone slick beneath his boots, the distant drip of water echoing off the walls in irregular beats. Every so often, the faint hum of the city above pierced the subterranean silence—a distant car horn, muffled footsteps, a flickering streetlamp buzzing faintly.
Dabi's mind was elsewhere, cycling through the list in his head—what he needed to pick up, the route he'd take back, how best to avoid unwanted attention. Every step was deliberate, measured. He couldn't afford mistakes.
Dabi approached the old subway entrance—a forgotten relic, long since closed and sealed off with a heavy metal gate rusted from years of neglect. This hidden access point was his secret lifeline between the tunnels below and the city above. He ran his gloved fingers over the cold, rough metal bars before deftly unlocking a mechanism he'd rigged long ago. With a loud groan, the gate creaked open, revealing the narrow, spiraling staircase that led up.
He began climbing, his footsteps echoing softly in the confined space. As he ascended, the stale, damp air of the tunnels gave way to fresher, crisper daylight filtering down from the open sky above. The faint sounds of daytime city life—distant traffic, murmurs of voices, the occasional bark of a dog—floated down the stairwell.
Pushing the gate aside at the top, Dabi stepped out into the pale afternoon sun. The air was cool and sharp, carrying the scent of dry pavement and early autumn leaves. His thick hoodie shielded him from the chill, and his immunity to cold made the brisk air feel like nothing more than a light breeze.
The city was alive around him—not with neon lights, but with the steady rhythm of daily life unfolding: people rushing by on sidewalks, the hum of engines, the soft rustle of wind through the trees. Dabi slid the gate closed and secured it silently behind him, then melted into the urban maze—ready to move unseen through the chaos above.
Toga stood in her room, the emptiness pressing in on her like a weight. Bare walls stretched around her, devoid of any sign of life or comfort. She couldn't stay here anymore—not after what Tomura had done to Jess. He wasn't the same person anymore, not since Kurogiri was captured. A cold ache settled deep in her chest.
On the small white table in the middle of the room, she placed a pink envelope carefully, its front marked with neat, bold letters:
"To Tomura and the Liberation Front."
She breathed in slowly, wrapping herself tighter in her coat. The familiar weight of her pink backpack settled comfortably on her shoulders. She was ready.
Earlier, she'd called Hawks. He'd agreed to pick her up and take her straight to UA. She was done. Done with the lies, the darkness, the endless fighting. All she wanted now was for things to be normal again.
"I know Jess and Dabi are safe," she whispered to herself, voice barely audible. "Dabi got Jess away from here... far away..."
A quiet sniff escaped her as she wiped at her eyes. The tears she refused to shed any louder than a secret.
Turning away from the note, she took one last look around her empty room. It wasn't home anymore.
She closed the door softly behind her, then paused, her heart thudding painfully in her chest. Turning left, she headed toward the back entrance—her path clear and sure. No one would be waiting there, no one watching. Only Hawks, patiently waiting to carry her away.
Toga reached the back entrance, her footsteps soft against the cold, concrete floor. The dim light barely cut through the shadows, but there, standing alone, was Hawks. His casual stance belied the weight of the situation, but his sharp eyes caught every detail as he turned toward her.
"You can explain everything when we get to UA," Hawks said quietly, voice steady but gentle.
Toga hesitated a moment before nodding, her fingers tightening slightly on the straps of her pink backpack. She glanced up at him, a teasing smirk tugging at her lips despite the tension. "You sure you can carry me with this backpack I've got on?"
Hawks chuckled softly, a flicker of warmth breaking through the cold air. "Don't worry. I've got you."
He stepped forward, reaching out to steady her, ready to take her away from the past and toward whatever future waited at UA.
The classroom was quiet except for the soft murmur of Midnight's instructions, the gentle tapping of pens on desks, and the faint rustle of papers. Izuku Midoriya sat near the window, his green eyes clouded with worry as he glanced down at his notebook. His mind wasn't on the lesson — it was on Jess, his cousin, still missing, still out there somewhere.
Shoto Todoroki, sitting close beside him, noticed Izuku's distracted expression. He shifted slightly but kept his focus on Midnight's demonstration, careful not to draw attention. His hand lightly brushed Izuku's arm in a quiet, grounding gesture.
"You're not going anywhere," Shoto whispered, voice low and steady. "You'll get expelled if you try."
Izuku swallowed, his fingers tightening on his pen. He nodded ever so slightly, forcing himself to focus on the lesson even though his heart ached. No one in the class knew the truth about Jess—about her royal ties to the Mikcloud family or just how close Izuku felt to her.
Except Bakugo.
Across the room, Bakugo's sharp gaze flickered toward Izuku for a brief moment. His expression was tight, simmering with anger, but he said nothing. Bakugo knew the secret; he'd known for a while, but he wasn't about to give Izuku any easy way out.
The tension between them was silent but palpable.
Midnight's voice rose again, clear and commanding, guiding the class forward. Izuku blinked, forcing himself back into the present, but the gnawing worry lingered beneath the surface. Jess was still out there, and all he could do was wait—for now.
As Midnight wrapped up the lesson, the classroom buzzed softly with students packing their things. The tension in Izuku's chest eased just a little, but his mind still churned beneath the surface.
Aizawa appeared in the doorway, his tired eyes scanning the room until they landed on Izuku and Uraraka. "Midoriya, Uraraka—come with me to Nezu's office."
They exchanged a quick, surprised glance before nodding silently and gathering their things. Shoto squeezed Izuku's hand gently. "See you later, okay?"
Izuku managed a small, grateful smile. "Yeah. See you later."
Bakugo stood nearby, arms crossed and scowling. "Come on, Icy Hot. Gym time! I'm gonna kick your ass in laps!"
Shoto rolled his eyes but smirked. "You wish."
Izuku chuckled softly, the familiar banter a small balm against the storm of worry still brewing in his heart.
Together, Izuku and Uraraka followed Aizawa down the hallway, the bustle of UA Academy moving around them like a steady tide—hopeful, relentless, and full of possibility.
The heavy wooden door to Nezu's office creaked open, and Izuku stepped inside hesitantly. His breath caught instantly.
There, sitting with a quiet, watchful presence, was Toga. Her usual mischievous smile was gone, replaced by something more guarded—worn but resolute. Nearby stood Dawn Mikcloud, radiating a calm strength that belied the exhaustion etched in her eyes.
For a moment, the room felt impossibly small, the air thick with unspoken tension.
Izuku's gaze flicked between them, then widened as he recognized Dawn. "Auntie Dawn?" His voice was barely above a whisper, disbelief mingling with relief.
Dawn's face broke into a warm smile, the softest light in the room. "Izuku! My little green bunny! You've grown up so much. You're practically a hero now."
Izuku's cheeks flushed, a mix of embarrassment and comfort flooding him. "Auntie...! I'm at school! But... why is Toga here? What's going on?"
Toga's eyes lifted slowly to meet his, steady and serious. "Tomura took the Princess," she said, her voice low and raw with regret.
Before Izuku could respond, Hawks spoke up, his tone measured but firm. "Toga and Dabi were the ones who helped Jess escape. She's safe now, hiding with Dabi in a secure location."
Dawn exhaled deeply, her hands folded tightly in her lap. "Jess's body has been fighting a fever caused by the Luminite cuffs he used on her. This is highly classified information. When she's stronger, Jess and Dabi plan to go to the Embassy for protection and medical care."
Her eyes scanned the room, heavy with the weight of responsibility. "Both Dabi and Toga left the League. Toga is here at UA for her own safety. Nezu agreed to protect her and keep her safe."
Nezu's quiet nod added solemnity to the room. His wise eyes reflected the seriousness of the situation.
Dawn's voice grew firmer. "The rest of the Liberation Front had no part in Jess's kidnapping. It was Compress who took her, under orders. Toga and Dabi both suffered terribly during those months—they couldn't bear it any longer."
Toga's gaze sharpened, a flicker of pain flashing before she regained composure. "We did everything we could."
Her eyes locked with Izuku's, the room seeming to shrink around those words. "There's something else you need to know... something dangerous."
Izuku's heart pounded in his chest, the air thick with anticipation.
"There's a spy in your class," Toga said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper but heavy with meaning.
Izuku's hands trembled as he clenched them tightly on his lap, his voice barely steady when he finally spoke. "W-Who is the spy? Who could do this to us?" His heart hammered painfully in his chest, a mixture of shock and betrayal washing over him.
Toga's face darkened, shadows flickering behind her eyes as she took a slow, steady breath. "It's Yuga Aoyama," she said quietly, almost reluctantly, as if the name itself carried a weight she wished she didn't have to bear. "He's the mole—all planted by All For One. When I disguised myself as a student last year, I overheard a phone call... one that he didn't think anyone would catch."
She paused, her eyes narrowing as if recalling the moment in painful clarity. "He was talking to his family... and they're involved, too. They follow him, watch him. All For One has them under his thumb."
The room fell deathly silent. Every eye was fixed on Toga, every breath held tight in anticipation.
Izuku swallowed hard, his mind racing. "But... why? Why would Yuga do this? He's one of us. How could he betray everyone?"
Toga's lips pressed into a thin line, and her voice softened. "He doesn't have a choice. Not really. If he refuses to follow All For One's orders... they'll kill him. Kill his family. He's trapped, Izuku. Like a puppet with invisible strings."
The weight of Toga's words hung thick in the room like a heavy fog. The very thought that someone they had trained alongside—someone who laughed and smiled in their class—could be trapped under the iron grip of All For One was almost unbearable. Izuku's chest tightened, empathy and sorrow weaving together in his heart, mingling with a gnawing worry.
Dawn's hands clenched into fists at her sides, the quiet strength of a queen now sharpened with righteous anger. "Nezu," she said, her voice low but firm, "we need to act swiftly. Let the Celtican royal guards take custody of his family. As for Aoyama... he'll be placed in that new Luminite detention room we built. For students who've become... troublesome."
A soft sigh escaped Aizawa, standing close by. "Where was this kind of security when Bakugo started a fight with Monoma from Class 1-B?"
Nezu let out a dry chuckle, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "The detention room... wasn't completed until just yesterday."
Izuku exhaled, a small bitter smile twitching on his lips. "Well, Monoma did start it... you know, Sensei."
The tension in the room eased just a fraction, the familiar banter a fragile reminder that amidst the storm, they were still a team. Yet beneath the surface, the shadow of betrayal and danger stretched long.
Dawn's gaze hardened. "No more mistakes. We cannot afford them—not with Jess's safety and the future of this academy on the line."
Nezu nodded gravely. "We'll proceed carefully. Surveillance will be discreet, and no one will be told until we're certain of Aoyama's actions. We must protect the rest of Class 1-A from suspicion and fear."
Izuku's mind raced. The idea that one of his closest classmates could be a spy tore at him. But more than that, he worried about the toll it would take on Aoyama himself—caught between loyalty and survival.
Toga's eyes met his with quiet resolve. "You'll need to stay vigilant, Midoriya. This battle is as much about trust as it is about strength."
The room fell silent again, the air heavy with unspoken fears and the weight of a new, invisible enemy lurking within their ranks.
"Yuga," Izuku said softly, forcing his voice to sound casual, "we need to talk about something serious. It's better if it's private."
Aoyama turned with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Of course, Midoriya. I trust you."
Izuku swallowed hard, pain tightening his throat. How could he betray a friend? But he had no choice.
They reached the small, stark room at the end of the hall — the Luminite detention room. Its heavy steel door was matte black, reinforced with state-of-the-art security tech. The cold air inside seeped out, chilling the corridor.
Izuku stepped back as Aoyama hesitated before the threshold. "Everything's going to be okay," Izuku whispered, "just trust me."
Aoyama nodded slowly, stepping inside.
Before he could react, Izuku reached for the control panel and pressed the lock button. The heavy door slid closed with a metallic thud — cold, final, unforgiving.
Aoyama spun around, eyes wide with shock and fear, pounding on the thick steel door. "Midoriya! What—what's happening? Let me out!"
Izuku stood just outside the heavy steel door, his fingers trembling as he deliberately looked away, unable to meet the desperate gaze burning through the thick glass. His voice cracked despite his effort to sound steady, the weight of his words pressing down on him.
"I'm sorry, Yuga. This is for your safety... and everyone else's. You're trapped between your family's loyalty and this nightmare, but we'll find a way to fix this."
He paused, swallowing hard before continuing, voice softer but firm.
"Toga came to UA for protection. Shigaraki and All For One kidnapped the Princess... Toga and Dabi got her out. Toga told us you and your family are being forced to spy for All For One."
Aoyama's fists slammed harder against the cold metal door, the sharp echoes reverberating down the sterile corridor. His voice cracked, pleading and raw.
"Please! Don't do this! I don't want to be a spy—I want to be your friend!"
Izuku's chest tightened painfully, his heart aching with every desperate pound on the door.
"I know," he whispered. "I believe you."
He stepped back slowly, exhaling a long, heavy breath as the finality of the locked door settled between them.
Inside, Aoyama's ragged breaths filled the cold silence, the harsh reality of confinement closing in.
Izuku turned away, steeling himself, ready to join the others waiting down the hall.
Inside the KOI 24-hour convenience store tucked beneath the shadow of a graffitied overpass, Dabi stood by the counter, his breath still fogging slightly from the cold outside. The store buzzed softly under fluorescent lights, casting a yellowish glow over half-stocked shelves and an old heater that rattled quietly near the front door.
Rango, the ex-villain turned store owner, was behind the counter, tossing instant ramen packets and canned goods into a reusable canvas bag. His green dreads were tied back, and his hoodie sleeves were pushed up, revealing tattooed arms that shimmered faintly with leftover support-gear ink.
"You were just here last night," Rango said with a crooked grin, pulling a box of herbal tea from a shelf behind him. "And now you're back again. What's the rush—girl still under the weather?"
Dabi gave a slow nod, shifting his weight as he leaned one arm on the counter. "Fever spiked this morning. She couldn't keep the soup down."
Rango's expression softened just a touch. "That sucks. Flu or somethin' worse?"
Dabi didn't answer.
Rango didn't push. He'd seen that look before—dead calm, shoulders tight, lips drawn into a line like he was forcing himself not to show too much. He'd known a lot of guys like Dabi in his villain days. None of them ever looked like that unless it was about someone they cared about more than they wanted to admit.
"Well," Rango said after a beat, "I'll throw in the stronger stuff. You know—ginger root, electrolytes, mint drops. Maybe even some of those mochi she looked at last time. You still owe me for stealing my lighter that one time anyway."
Dabi exhaled something between a scoff and a tired chuckle. "Don't remember stealing anything."
Rango winked as he packed a sealed thermos of miso broth into the bag. "Of course you don't."
The man passed the bag over the counter, heavier than last night's. "She gonna be okay?"
"I don't know," Dabi admitted. It came out quieter than he meant to, and for a moment, he stared at the floor like his mind had gone somewhere else entirely. "She's tough. But... she's been through a lot."
Rango nodded. "Most of us have. But it hits different when it's someone you're trying to protect."
Dabi looked up. Their eyes met, and there was an unspoken understanding between them. Former villains didn't need to spell it out.
"Appreciate it," Dabi said finally, taking the bag and slinging it over his shoulder.
"Don't mention it." Rango leaned back on the counter. "But hey—next time, bring her when she's better."
Dabi paused at the door. "I'll think about it."
Rango grinned, toothpick bobbing in his mouth. "You always do."
Then Dabi stepped back out into the freezing afternoon, pulling up his hood and heading for the service alley that led to his hidden tunnel entrance. The cold didn't bother him—but the thought of her alone in that bunker, possibly in pain, definitely did.
Dabi moved swiftly through the narrow alleyways behind KOI, the chill in the late afternoon air biting at the edges of his sleeves. His oversized black hoodie was pulled low, hood casting his face in shadow. The heavy bag of supplies thumped gently against his side as he made his way toward the familiar gated entrance—an old, rusting subway access point long forgotten by the city. The gate groaned softly as he bent down and unlocked it from the inside with a key tucked into his glove.
But then he froze.
A single red feather drifted down in front of him, twirling through the cold air like a slow-falling leaf. It landed just at the lip of the stairwell that led down into the darkness below.
His jaw clenched.
"You stupid pigeon," he muttered, glaring upward. "You trying to get her caught?"
A rustle of wind answered him, and a moment later Hawks landed lightly behind him, wings folding in. His goggles were off, golden eyes tired but focused. His breath formed little clouds in the cold air.
"Dabs," Hawks said casually, brushing some soot off his jacket. "I noticed you not far away... Recognized that hoodie anywhere, you know..." He looked toward the entrance. "How is she? How's the princess?"
Dabi didn't turn around. His fingers tightened on the strap of his supply bag.
"Still running her fevers," he said flatly. "Didn't we make it clear? Don't follow me. Don't come near us."
"I wasn't gonna go in," Hawks replied quickly, raising his hands. "Just making sure you two were still breathing. I didn't know how bad the Luminite exposure really got. No one did."
"She's safe," Dabi said firmly, finally glancing back at him. His blue eyes burned through the shadows beneath his hood. "Here. In my place. Not yours. Not Nezu's. Not the heroes'. Mine. She sleeps without flinching for the first time in weeks. I'm not letting anyone take that from her."
"I get it," Hawks said, lowering his hands slowly. His voice softened. "I do. That's why I've stayed out of your way. I know Nezu told us not to approach until the embassy's ready. And I know you were the one who got her out, Dabi. Not me. Not even Toga could've done it without you. But you gotta understand something too—I care about her. She's not just some political asset or a secret weapon. She's a women who deserves peace."
Dabi's face was unreadable, but a flicker of something shifted behind his stitched expression.
"You got five seconds to walk away," he said. "Before I make you regret dropping in."
Hawks tilted his head, the wind ruffling his feathers.
"Alright. I hear you." He took a few steps back. "But if she gets worse, if that fever spikes again—don't be a dumbass. Call us. She needs more than just broth and blankets. You know that."
"I'll decide what she needs," Dabi snapped. "Not some bird in a fuzzy coat."
Hawks gave a quiet, halfhearted laugh and shook his head. "You're a pain in the ass, Dabs... but I'm glad she has you."
He took a breath, then hesitated. His voice lowered.
"But tell me... what did he really do to her...?" His golden eyes searched Dabi's, not with suspicion—but with fear. "It wasn't just discipline, was it...?"
He saw it—the way Dabi flinched ever so slightly. The way his teeth sank into his bottom lip, tearing at the cracked skin like he couldn't bear to answer.
"Keigo..." Dabi said softly.
Hawks blinked.. His chest tightened, breath caught halfway.
"How do you know...?" Hawks whispered.
Dabi's gaze didn't waver. "Think of your mother. What did she go through before you were born? Was she forced?" He exhaled sharply. "My mother was. She was nothing more than a breeding pawn to that bastard."
He looked away, shoulders trembling with restraint, anger boiling just under the surface.
"I couldn't stand seeing Jess turning into my mother..." he muttered. "So many times... I heard her screams when she thought no one was listening. I saw her scars—ones that weren't from any damn cuffs or restraints. You wanna know what Shigaraki did?"
He stepped forward, voice cold and venomous now. "Think long and hard, Hawks. You're a smart guy. What do you think he did to her?"
Silence fell between them like a slab of concrete. The wind shifted. Somewhere far above, the sound of traffic returned—but down here, everything was still.
Hawks' hands curled into fists. His face was pale. His voice came out strangled, barely audible.
"Dabi..."
Dabi's eyes glowed faintly blue from beneath the hood. "She's not gonna be his victim. Not while I'm breathing. That's the promise I made her."
His tone hardened, like steel under pressure.
"Now leave."
There was nothing left to say. Without a single protest, Hawks stepped back. His wings unfurled silently, feathers rippling with tension.
In a single breath of motion, he launched into the sky, disappearing past the rooftops in a blur of crimson and wind. Only a few drifting feathers remained, spinning slowly in the air as the alley grew still again.
Dabi stood motionless for a moment, jaw tight, heart pounding. His hand tightened on the strap of the bag slung over his shoulder. That conversation hadn't been planned—but he had said what needed to be said.
And now, Jess was waiting.
Without another word, he turned back to the gate and unlocked it again. The old iron screeched faintly as he pulled it open and slipped down into the dark, sealing the entrance tightly behind him.
Each step deeper into the tunnels was like shedding the outer world. The noise, the weight of confrontation, the rage—he left it behind.
Underground, the air was warmer. Familiar. Safe.
Because she was there. And he would be, too.
The bunker was quiet—too quiet. Jess had been left alone for a little while, the only sounds the low hum of the power unit and the occasional distant drip echoing through the pipes overhead. After resting under the kotatsu for hours, she felt clammy, her skin coated in a thin layer of sweat. She needed a shower—something to ground her.
Steam curled through the bathroom like a gentle mist as Jess stepped beneath the spray. The hot water cascaded over her shoulders, soothing tight muscles and washing away the stiffness that had settled in her joints. She let out a soft sigh, fingers gently massaging into the knots around her neck and upper back.
"Mmm, I think I've got knots here..." she muttered to herself, head tilted as she rubbed her sore shoulder. A small smile tugged at her lips. "Maybe Dabi can give me a shoulder massage later..."
Her cheeks flushed at the thought, heat rising not just from the water. Was she falling for him? Something in her chest fluttered—something warm and unfamiliar.
But the moment shattered.
A sharp, sudden pain tore through her lower abdomen. Jess gasped, her breath catching as her knees wobbled. "What the...?"
She glanced down.
Blood. Thick, red. Running down her thighs. Her eyes widened, panic slicing through her like ice. "N-No... no no no—"
From above, the soft sound of the hatch unlocking echoed into the bunker. The old lift system creaked as a crate was lowered into place.
"Jess?" Dabi's voice called down, warm and rough.
"I'm here...!" she called out, trying to sound steady, but her voice wavered as the pain bit down harder. "Ow... I'm in the shower..."
She could hear the rustle of plastic bags as Dabi stepped down the ladder. She heard the hatch pull closed and lock again. Jess gripped the edge of the tiled wall, body trembling. This wasn't normal. The bleeding was too much, the pain too deep. It didn't feel like a period. It felt wrong.
A sob tore from her throat.
Dabi froze outside the bathroom entrance way "Jess...?" His voice was tense. "You okay?"
"No..." she cried out softly. "Touya... It hurts..."
There was a pause—only a heartbeat—and then the curtain rustled slightly.
"I'm coming in, okay?"
"O-Okay..." came her breathless, broken reply.
He pushed the curtain aside slowly, careful, respectful—but the second he saw her, his expression dropped. Jess stood there, leaning against the wall, one hand braced on her lower stomach. Blood ran down her thighs, the water at her feet a diluted swirl of red. Her long rasberry red hair stuck to her skin, covering her chest, her whole body shaking.
His breath caught in his throat. "Jess..."
Tears were streaming down her cheeks. "I think... I think I'm having a..."
"...Miscarriage," Dabi finished for her, voice low and heavy.
The word slammed between them.
Without hesitation, he moved forward and reached out, gently wrapping his arms around her, pulling her against him despite the blood, the water, the chaos. Jess collapsed into his chest, trembling violently.
"Shhh... it's okay..." he whispered, stroking the back of her head. "I've got you. I'm here. You're not alone..."
Chapter Text
The pain had lingered longer than Jess thought it would. Twenty minutes felt like hours.
No longer in the shower, she lay curled on her side beneath a blanket, dressed in an oversized shirt that belonged to Dabi and thick fuzzy socks. Her legs trembled faintly, the worst of the cramps subsiding only to return in dull waves that made her press a pillow against her lower abdomen. The pad she wore had already needed changing once, and it wasn't even over.
It wasn't just physical. It was the silence between those surges—the cold quiet of the underground bunker, the faint hum of old pipes in the ceiling, and the smell of damp concrete mingled with the scent of soap and blood.
Dabi had changed into dry clothes, his hair still damp from earlier. He knelt beside her again, crouched low to meet her eyes, but Jess wasn't looking at him. She was staring past him, unblinking.
"Jess..." His voice was quiet. Careful. "Tell me. Should I call the embassy?"
Her head shifted slightly. Then shook, a weak motion but firm in intent.
"No," she rasped, voice dry from crying. "I don't want them to know... all hell will break loose if I did..."
Dabi nodded, swallowing his frustration. He reached out and gently ran his fingers through her damp hair, brushing strands off her cheek. Her skin was pale. Her body still radiated heat—not from the fever anymore, but from exhaustion and grief.
"I can't just do nothing," he muttered under his breath. Then something clicked in his mind. There was someone—one person who might be able to help. It was risky, beyond stupid maybe, but Jess needed more than painkillers and silence.
Someone who knew how to handle a body pushed too far. Someone who knew what to do when things went wrong inside.
"Alright," he whispered, trying to keep his voice steady. "I'm gonna call someone."
Jess blinked slowly and turned her head toward him.
He immediately added, "Calm down. Not the embassy. Not anyone official. I promise."
She didn't speak right away. Just looked at him.
"I trust you, Touya," she said at last, her voice trembling with emotion more than pain.
That word—Touya—hit him like a soft blow to the chest. Rare. Raw. Real.
A small smile tugged at his lips, even if his heart was still clenched.
He leaned in and kissed her temple. "I'll make it quick."
As he stood and walked toward the far corner of the bunker to make the call, Jess shifted slightly beneath the blanket, burying her face into a bundled hoodie that smelled like Dabi—smoke, leather, and some odd mechanical oil from the old underground wiring. It grounded her.
She didn't know who he was calling, but she trusted him.
Even in this moment—when her body betrayed her and her heart was breaking—Jess knew one thing with certainty: she wasn't alone.
And for now, that had to be enough.
Across the city, in a modest apartment lit only by the glow of a muted television, Natsuo Todoroki sat cross-legged on the floor at his low table. A half-eaten box of chunky strawberry Pocky sat beside an open bottle of blueberry Ramune, the carbonation slowly fading.
His laptop was open in front of him, homework scattered in organized chaos. Notes about pregnancy complications, quirk-related deliveries, and specialized care for maternity wards filled his notebooks. This was his final year in university—his full internship at one of the top hospitals in Musutafu had just started. Tonight’s focus: high-risk pregnancies and neonatal care.
He hummed quietly, writing diligently in the corner of a workbook, glancing between his screen and his notes—until his phone buzzed.
Without checking the caller ID, Natsuo reached out and answered mid-scribble.
"Hello?"
A pause. Then, a voice—low, tense, familiar.
"...Nat. I need your help."
Natsuo's pen stopped. His hand froze. No one called him that anymore—except—
"Who... who is this?"
"...Touya."
Natsuo felt like the world spun sideways. The name struck like lightning. His throat tightened.
"This isn't funny," he said sharply, standing up so quickly the table jolted. "Whoever this is—my older brother is dead. That's not a joke—so cut the crap."
He was about to hang up when the voice continued.
"Remember when I first made Shoto fluffy pancakes?"
Natsuo froze. The phone slipped a little in his grip.
"It was the first time we were free of the old man—when he went overseas for that long mission. The house felt... lighter. Peaceful. That morning, everyone laughed. Shoto was five. His cheeks were all pink from grinning so hard. Mom snapped a picture on her phone. That was the best month we ever had without Enji."
Tears prickled at the corners of Natsuo's eyes. His breath hitched.
"...It is you," he whispered. "Touya... how...?"
"That's a long story for another day," Dabi—Touya—replied. His voice had grown softer. Wearier.
"I'm sending you a pin. You're studying to become a doctor, right?"
"Y-Yeah, how do—wait. Have you been stalking me?" Natsuo asked, even though his voice cracked.
"Keeping a close eye," Touya said. "I needed to be sure you were safe. That all of you were."
Natsuo pressed a hand over his face. "This is insane. You're alive... You're alive, and calling me like it's normal—Touya, what the hell—"
"I need your help."
The sharp shift in his tone made Natsuo stop rambling.
"She's... important to me. And she's in a bad way," Touya's voice rasped over the phone, the weight in it unmistakable. "I can't take her to a hospital. Not without questions. But you—you're close, you're trained, and you have a doctor's bag, right?"
"Yeah..." Natsuo blinked, still caught between disbelief and instinctive concern. "Fuyumi got me one last Christmas," he added, voice faint. "It's more like a full-on medical suitcase. She stocked it with everything—emergency kits, IV gear, meds, gloves, everything. I haven't even opened it yet."
"Good," Touya said, firmer now. "Use it. Bring it with you. I'm sending you the location now."
Natsuo lowered his phone just enough to glance at the screen. A soft chime echoed through the quiet apartment as a pin dropped into his text messages, marking a place he didn't recognize—deep in an industrial district near the edges of the city.
He felt his heart hammering in his chest. None of this felt real. Touya—his older brother, who'd supposedly died years ago—was not only alive, but asking him for help.
And not just any help.
Medical help.
For a girl he cared about.
Touya's voice cracked just slightly, drawing his attention back. "Can you do this for me, Nat?"
There was a pause—a breathless moment suspended between past and present.
Memories swirled up uninvited: sneaking into the kitchen as kids, the smell of pancakes, that one rare morning when Enji wasn't home and they all laughed without fear. Touya flipping pancakes like he was showing off, Shoto beaming with syrup on his chin, Fuyumi giggling over her tea. Their mother smiling like she'd been allowed to breathe.
He hadn't heard Touya call him "Nat" since then.
Natsuo closed his eyes, hand tightening slightly around the phone.
"...Yeah," he finally breathed. "Yeah. I'll be there."
He didn't wait. Shoving his homework and laptop aside, Natsuo scrambled to his feet and bent down, reaching under the low table where he kept the emergency supplies. His hand closed around the strap of a large red duffle bag, heavy and tightly packed. The white medical cross symbol was stitched boldly on the side, the zipper still sealed with the original tag Fuyumi had tied onto it when she gave it to him.
He yanked the tag off and slung the bag over his shoulder. It was bulkier than he expected, brushing against his hip as he moved.
Grabbing his coat from the back of the chair, he shoved his arms into the sleeves and slid into his shoes, heart pounding so loudly it drowned out everything else.
One last look.
The silent apartment greeted him with muted calm: the half-finished homework, the glowing laptop screen, the half-gone box of strawberry Pocky, the condensation on the Ramune bottle. It all felt so distant now—like it belonged to a version of him from ten minutes ago, untouched by the call that changed everything.
He shut the door behind him and ran.
Dabi crouched beside the old metal trunk in the corner of the bunker, the hinges creaking as he flipped it open. He rummaged through the stack of clothes until his fingers brushed against the fabric he was looking for—another oversized hoodie, this one a dark gray, loose and broken-in from years of wear. He tugged it free and lifted it to his face, sniffing it.
His nose wrinkled slightly.
It smelled like it had been locked away in a closet for too long—stale, dry, like time itself had clung to the fibers. No smoke, no soap, just that forgotten-linen scent that made him sigh quietly. It wasn't fresh, but it was familiar. And it was clean enough for now.
He stood and turned back toward Jess. She was lying curled on her side on the bed, pale and still, her damp hair splayed across the pillow. Her eyes fluttered open when she heard him.
"I'll be right back, okay?" Dabi said, voice low. "I need to meet my little brother at the location I sent him. You gonna be okay for a little bit?"
Jess blinked at him slowly, then gave a small shiver. "Help me up... I need to change the pad again..."
His face softened immediately. "Yeah. Of course."
He set the hoodie aside and moved over to her, gently helping her sit up. One hand supported her back, the other rested lightly at her waist. She winced, gripping his forearm for balance.
"I got you," he murmured.
Jess slowly rose to her feet with his help, wobbly but determined. The oversized T-shirt she wore—his old one—hung low on her thighs, the sleeves nearly covering her hands. She gave him a weak nod and stepped carefully behind the curtain that separated the shower and toilet area from the rest of the bunker.
"You can go," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'll be okay."
"You sure?"
"Yes, Touya."
The way she said his name—so gently, so full of trust—made something warm flicker in his chest. His lips twitched into a small smile.
"Alright," he murmured. "I'll be right back with Natsuo."
He stepped over to the ladder, grabbing his hoodie from where he'd laid it down earlier. Tugging it on, he climbed up slowly, careful not to jostle the crate at the top. The hatch creaked softly as he unlocked it.
"See you in a bit, Touya," came Jess's voice from behind the curtain.
Dabi paused, smiling faintly. "I promise I'll be back..." His voice dropped slightly as he added, without thinking, "Love ya."
The moment the words left his mouth, he froze.
Had he really just said that?
He stared at the hatch, heart thudding. His cheeks colored—not a bright blush, but a subtle warmth that crawled up the back of his neck.
Breathing out slowly, he shook his head and pulled the hatch closed. The lock clicked into place as he turned the key. He stood there a moment longer, hoodie half-zipped, collecting himself.
"...Smooth," he muttered under his breath. "Real smooth."
Shaking it off, he turned and headed for the abandoned subway entrance, his footsteps echoing off the old, crumbling concrete. He pulled his hood up as he walked, shadowing his face.
Natsu didn't need to see him yet—not until they were safely inside. Seeing Dabi's face too early might make the kid bolt before he even got a chance to explain.
And Jess needed help.
No matter what.
With in twenty mintues, Natsuo was at the area. Natsuo adjusted the strap of the large red medical duffle over his shoulder as he stared down at his phone's map. The glowing pin blinked steadily at a location that didn't make sense—an abandoned, rusted subway gate nestled between a pair of crumbling concrete walls on the edge of the city's industrial zone.
He looked up slowly, blinking in confusion.
"...This can't be right."
The gate was padlocked and partially overgrown with ivy. The stairs beyond it disappeared into darkness.
Frowning, Natsu lowered his phone and glanced around. Empty streets. No sign of anyone.
Then—footsteps.
He quickly turned back toward the gate, eyes wide. Someone was walking up the stairs. A shadow moved in the gloom, then slowly emerged into the pale streetlight.
A tall figure in a black hoodie stepped forward. Face mostly hidden—dark glasses, a mask pulled over his mouth, the hood casting deep shadows—but Natsu knew.
He knew.
"...Nat," the figure said.
Natsuo's breath caught in his throat. "T-Touya...?"
"Yeah."
The voice was unmistakable. Rougher now, older, deeper—but it still held that same calm, steady rhythm from his memories.
Touya moved to the gate and quietly lifted it as high as it would go, the metal creaking in protest.
Natsuo hesitated for only a second before he dropped to one knee and slid his duffle inside, then followed, crawling in under the gate. "You... live down here?"
Touya didn't answer right away. He just nodded once, lowering the gate behind them with a heavy clunk of metal and rust.
The city noise was muffled now. Just the sound of water dripping somewhere in the distance and their quiet breathing.
Natsuo picked up the medical bag again and slung it over his shoulder. It felt heavier than before, or maybe it was the weight of the reunion pressing down on him.
Touya turned without another word and started walking down the cracked stairwell, each step echoing into the dark.
"Follow me," he said. "It's another five-minute walk to the bunker."
Natsuo swallowed, then nodded, footsteps falling in behind his older brother.
"No questions, okay Nat?" Touya added over his shoulder. "For later."
"...Okay."
He didn't argue. He didn't press. Not yet.
For now, he followed.
Because something serious was happening.
And because his brother—his brother—had called him back from the dead to help someone.
At the Villa, Twice bounded down the hall, stopping in front of Toga's door. He knocked—once, twice, then pounded.
"Toga! You alive in there!?"
No answer.
"No, no—she's dead! She's DEAD!!"
The door down the hall creaked open. Compress leaned out, one brow raised behind his mask. "Jin, what in the world are you yelling about this time?"
Twice spun toward him, arms flailing in panic. "TOGA IS DEAD!"
Compress sighed and stepped into the hall, his cape dragging softly behind him. "You always assume the worst."
"I assume the best! Then the worst! Then both! That's how it works!"
He made his way to Toga's door, ignoring Twice pacing in frantic circles.
"Toga, my dear," Compress called gently, knocking once with gloved fingers. "You're not ignoring us, are you? Because if you don't open this door right now, young lady, I will make sure your stash of blood bags is mysteriously redistributed."
Silence.
No footsteps. No giggling. No grumbles. Just still air behind the wooden door.
Twice was now wringing his hands. "She's dead, she's totally dead! Or gone. Or both! No wait—just gone. Which is worse?!"
Compress glanced at him, then grunted and pushed the door open.
The room was dark, quiet... and empty.
No sign of Toga.
No bags. No extra clothes. Not even her usual mess.
Just a small table near the bed—with a single pink envelope placed neatly in the center.
Both men stared at it.
"...Oh no," Twice breathed.
Compress slowly stepped forward, lifting the envelope between two fingers.
"...Looks like she left us a note. Addressed to Tomura and the Liberation Front."
He turned the envelope, the pink paper soft and familiar—Toga's favorite stationery, with the faint outline of a bloodied heart in the corner.
"I think we need to gather the generals. And the boss," Compress said grimly. "This... this isn't just a personal tantrum. Have you seen Dabi? Is he back yet?"
Twice's frown deepened, his hands twitching like he didn't know whether to punch the wall or hug himself. "I haven't seen Dabi either. Probably still out there with the search parties..."
Then, under his breath, muttered, "I hope he never comes back... stupid burnt bastard. I miss our walking portable HEATER..."
Compress let out a dry chuckle. "Your grief process is always a unique thing, Jin."
"It's complex!"
Compress turned, tucking the envelope into his coat. "Come on. Let's get this to Tomura."
Twice gave one last lingering glance into the empty room—the folded blanket, the lack of clutter, the ghost of Toga's chaotic presence completely gone.
"...Yeah. Let's go."
They disappeared down the hall together, a creeping sense of unease following them with every step.
Natsuo stood at the bottom of the rusty metal ladder, blinking up at the heavy floor hatch above him. The cold air from below seeped through the cracks, carrying with it the faint scent of damp concrete and something faintly familiar—home, in its own twisted way.
Touya, his older brother, moved with practiced ease, pulling out a thick, worn key and sliding it into the lock. With a soft click, the hatch creaked open, revealing the dim, cozy bunker below. A quiet, warm voice floated up from inside.
"Back, Jess."
"Welcome back, Touya," came Jess's soft reply.
Touya's eyes crinkled behind his mask in a smile.
"You go first, Nat," he said, stepping back. "You alright carrying that down the ladder?"
Natsuo adjusted the red medical duffle bag slung over his shoulder. "Yeah," he nodded, gripping the ladder firmly.
Carefully, Natsuo descended into the bunker's warm glow, the familiar hum of the fan and the faint buzz of the old TV comforting him. As his feet touched the floor, Jess sat on the bed, wrapped in a soft purple throw blanket draped over her shoulders. Her eyes lifted and softened as she saw him step inside.
Natsuo turned, catching sight of Touya descending the ladder behind him, the hatch closing and locking with a definite thunk. His gaze flickered back to Jess, noticing the oversized black shirt she wore, emblazoned with the words 'Black Sabaoth.' Is that Touya's shirt? he wondered.
Touya emerged from the shadows, still masked and hooded, and his voice broke the quiet. "You changed shirts...?"
Jess nodded sheepishly. "Blood... sorry, Touya."
Kneeling down beside her, Touya's tone was gentle but firm. "No need to be sorry. You're not with Shigaraki anymore—you're safe with me."
Natsuo's eyes widened sharply at the name. "S-Shigaraki? That leader of the League? Touya, what's going on?"
Touya sighed deeply, the weight of the moment pressing down on him as he slowly peeled off his oversized hoodie and then the mask that had become his shield from the world. The scars beneath the fabric caught the faint light, a map of past pain and survival. His eyes met Natsuo's, steady and unflinching, but softened by years of hidden burdens.
"It's a long story, Nat," he said quietly, voice rough but earnest. "More than you can imagine. But none of that matters right now. What matters is Jess—she needs your help. She's not just sick... she's going through something really bad."
Natsuo's face twisted with a mix of shock, confusion, and disbelief. "You're Dabi? Touya, you became a villain? How did this happen? Why—"
Dabi cut him off with a low groan, rubbing the back of his neck, eyes flickering toward Jess. "It's not that simple. Not anymore. Jess is having a miscarriage."
At that moment, Jess shuddered violently, a sharp cramp folding her body in on itself. She curled onto her side, laying on the bed her as pain ripped through her. A quiet, broken sob escaped her lips.
Natsuo's eyes widened as he moved instinctively closer. His fingers trembled slightly as he reached out, but Touya's firm hand on his shoulder grounded him.
Touya knelt beside Jess, gently lifting her hand and holding it steady. "Shhh... it's okay, Jess. You're safe. I'm here. Nat's here."
Jess's breath hitched with another wave of pain, her body curling tighter against the wall. Tears welled in her eyes.
Natsuo's expression sharpened as he quickly assessed her condition, the gravity sinking in but his training taking over. His voice was steady but soft, an anchor in the storm. "Jess, you're not alone. I'm here to help. Let me check your vitals, and we'll keep you stable. Touya, help me get her comfortable."
He moved with quiet confidence, opening his medical bag and retrieving supplies, his years of study and internships guiding every step. Despite the fear and weight of the situation, Natsuo's focus was absolute—his determination to help Jess stay stable unwavering.
Tomura stood before his lieutenants—every one of them present except Dabi. In his gloved hands, he held the pink envelope that had been left behind in Toga's empty room. His fingers trembled slightly as he stared at it, unsure if he truly wanted to know what she had written.
Spinner, frowning, stepped forward. "You're gonna just stand there shaking all day?" he muttered before snatching the letter from Tomura's hand.
He tore open the envelope and pulled out the folded pink paper, smoothing it open. His eyes scanned the words, and his expression immediately shifted to one of shock.
"Dear Tomura and the Liberation Front,
I, Toga Himiko, officially resign from the Liberation Front. I can no longer be part of a group that condones abuse.
Tomura... stop denying it. You forced yourself on her."
Spinner's voice faltered. The silence that followed was suffocating.
He looked up, stunned. "What...?" he whispered, eyes darting between the others.
Compress stood still, arms crossed, brow furrowed deeply beneath his mask.
Twice stood frozen, mouth half open but no words came.
Even Geten lowered his eyes.
"Keep going," Re-Destro said, voice low and controlled—but firm.
Spinner swallowed and looked back down at the letter, his hands now shaking.
"I suspected something when I saw the hickeys on her neck. That's when I knew I had to act. I was the one who got her out. No one else. I led her to the back exits of the villa and showed her the path through the woods that leads to the next town. By the time you're reading this, she's already gone—she's found safety. She's in hiding, and she's staying gone.
Tomura, think hard about what you've done. About what you've become. Your thoughts... your actions... they're not your own anymore. I know in my heart that the real Tomura—the one I first met—would never have done this. This... this is All For One's influence, not yours.
My heart breaks knowing the Tomura I once believed in is lost.
Compress has been reading those therapy books nonstop—maybe try talking to him. Face what you've done. Accept that it was wrong. And fix yourself before it's too late.
You're still my family. All of you. But I can't be here anymore.
I'm safe. I'm at U.A.
—With love, Toga."
The room stayed quiet.
Spinner looked up slowly, his voice hoarse. "She's gone... and she's never coming back."
Tomura's eyes were unreadable. But something in his jaw twitched.
Twice lowered his head. "She was the heart, y'know... now we're just meat and bone..."
Compress said nothing, his gloved hand clenching tightly at his side.
The room was breaking—and the cracks were loud.
Geten's frown deepened. He looked from the letter to Tomura with disbelief curling his lip.
"Why... would you..." he started, but the rest caught in his throat. The words felt poisonous—unthinkable. He turned fully to face Tomura, voice rising as fury slipped into it.
"You..." his jaw locked. "Ra—"
He couldn't finish the word. Couldn't say it out loud.
But the silence screamed it for him.
His hands trembled at his sides. "How many times, Tomura?! The screams stopped—what happened after that?!" he barked, his usual cold tone burning hot for once.
Tomura stood still, gaze on the floor, lips pressed in a tight line. He didn't answer. He couldn't.
Geten stepped forward, shaking. "Why would you listen to an order like that?! I was told—by Toga, by Dabi—that you of all people would never condone that kind of abuse. Because all three of you survived it!"
No one dared move.
Spinner slowly turned toward Tomura too, his voice hoarse with disbelief. "You hate heroes because they let that happen to you. But now—look at what you've done."
He backed away a step. "I don't even know who I'm looking at."
Tomura remained frozen.
Compress exhaled slowly through his nose and stepped forward, steady despite the storm in his voice. "Go to your room, Tomura."
That made him look up.
"You heard me." Compress's tone wasn't angry—but resolute, the way a teacher scolds a student who's lost their way. "Tomorrow morning, you will report to the library. You'll lie down on that ridiculous lodge chair, and you will speak. You will be honest. With yourself. With us."
He paused, hands behind his back, voice quieter now.
"You are our boss. Our comrade. Our Friend. And despite what you've done—I still believe there's something human left in you."
Tomura's fingers twitched.
Compress took a step closer. "But if you ever want that humanity back... if you want forgiveness, or even understanding... it starts there. With truth."
He narrowed his eyes behind the mask. "And starting tonight, you're done visiting that doctor. All For One's voice has been loud enough."
Tomura lowered his head again. This time not in shame—but in surrender.
Jessica had finally slipped into a soft, dreamless sleep—her lips barely parted, the morphine gently quieting the waves of pain that had wracked her for hours. A faint hum vibrated from her throat, barely audible over the steady drone of the old fan overhead. She lay curled under the soft purple throw blanket, her body still as color slowly returned to her pale face.
Dabi sat beside her on the edge of the bed, hunched forward, one hand gently wrapped around hers. His fingers remained still, but his thumb traced slow, grounding circles across her knuckles. The rare softness in his scarred eyes was shadowed by a storm beneath the surface.
Natsuo stood nearby, his medical duffle finally zipped and set aside. He rubbed the back of his neck and exhaled quietly through his nose.
"She's stable. The bleeding's slowing, and her body's starting to come down from the worst of it," he said, glancing toward his brother before settling down cross-legged on the floor, arms resting on his knees. "By how far along she was, I'd estimate five or six weeks. Maybe seven, max."
Dabi gave a barely perceptible nod, his gaze never leaving Jessica's fragile form.
"The stress you mentioned—the fevers, those Luminite cuffs, the sudden change in environment—none of that helped. Her body was under too much pressure. And..." Natsuo's voice dropped, "whatever else she went through... it pushed her beyond what she could bear."
A heavy silence settled over the cramped room, thick enough to suffocate, pierced only by the faint rasp of Jessica's shallow breaths and the low, almost hypnotic hum of the ancient TV perched crookedly in the corner. The flickering screen cast wavering shadows across the walls, but none could reach the weight pressing down on the two brothers.
Dabi's gaze was fixed somewhere distant, unfocused, as if fighting a war behind his eyes. His voice broke the quiet—low, rough, barely above a whisper, as though the words were scorched into his throat, more a prayer to himself than a statement for anyone else.
"She's gonna be okay." The phrase was fragile, strained, as if the act of saying it might shatter the fragile hope it clung to. "She has to be."
Natsuo's brows knit together, his gaze sharpening with a mixture of concern and skepticism. He leaned forward slightly, voice measured but edged with urgency. "Touya."
The name cut through the tension like a knife. Dabi's jaw clenched so tight the muscles twitched visibly. His eyes snapped toward Natsuo, burning with bitter fire—wounded and relentless.
"He's gonna pay." The words spilled out low and dark, a venomous vow etched deep in every syllable. "Shigaraki. Or whatever's left of that monster."
Natsuo shifted back, arms crossing defensively over his chest. His expression tightened with the weight of truth and the futility in Dabi's tone. "Revenge isn't going to fix this."
Dabi didn't reply. The silence stretched—heavy, suffocating—before Natsuo's voice softened, steady and grounding.
"Alright," he said, voice calm but firm, like a tether pulling them both from the edge. "Tell me everything. Start with her."
Dabi sank deeper into the worn chair, his shoulders slumping with the exhaustion of a man who's been carrying too much for too long. His eyes, dark and hollowed from sleepless nights and haunted memories, flickered briefly with a flicker of resolve before he spoke, voice raw but steady.
"Her name's Jess. Jessica Lightning Mikcloud—the second crowned Princess of Celtica."
He let the words hang between them, weighty and fragile. His gaze found Natsuo's again, watching as the younger brother's eyes widened in shock and disbelief.
"She's the missing princess...?"
Natsuo's breath hitched, the room suddenly shrinking under the weight of what Dabi had just revealed. His eyes locked onto Dabi's, searching for something beyond the words—truth, pain, maybe a glimmer of hope.
"How... how did she end up like this?" Natsuo's voice was low, almost trembling.
He leaned forward slightly, his hands curling into fists. His voice grew rougher, like gravel grinding in his throat.
"At first, we didn't know the real reason All For One wanted her. Thought maybe it was leverage, maybe intel. But it was personal. That bastard felt the royal family wronged him somehow... and Jess—she became the target. The punishment." Dabi's eyes darkened, the shadows beneath them stark against the dim light of the bunker. "Nobody from the Liberation Front—got anywhere near her. Shigaraki controlled it all. Made sure of that. She was trapped with him and the doctor. No one else."
Natsuo's breath hitched softly, watching his brother's face twist with tightly coiled rage—and something far more broken.
Dabi didn't stop. He couldn't. "Shigaraki was ordered to 'discipline' her. That's what we were told. All For One's exact words. Not kill her. Not interrogate her. Discipline. So Shigaraki did what he does best—he used his Decay. Not enough to kill. Just enough to hurt. Constantly. Small touches. Fever-inducing pain. Skin that blistered and peeled and healed again. It kept her confused, weak... like she was burning from the inside out. And it didn't stop."
Natsuo looked sick, his hands curling around his elbows as he listened.
Dabi's voice dropped even lower.
"The screaming was daily. Every night. For weeks. Then one day, it just... stopped. And that was worse than hearing it. We thought maybe she'd passed out—maybe she was dead. Toga was assigned to shower duty early on. Then for about a week, she wasn't. Shigaraki said he was handling it himself. Alone. Then suddenly, Toga was reassigned again."
His lip curled, a bitter snarl threatening to twist his expression.
"One day I caught her doing Jess's laundry. It had piled up—hadn't been touched in weeks. I asked what happened. She told me Jess wouldn't even look her in the eye half the time, little galnces but that was it. Said she was quiet. Too quiet. Like someone had hit mute. And then she mentioned the marks—hickeys. Faint bite marks. Things that had no business being on her skin."
Dabi's fists shook in his lap.
"Shigaraki had moved half his shit into Jess's room. Was always with her. Always touching her. Possessive. Like she belonged to him. And by the two-month mark, all the discipline stopped. No bruises. No blood. Just... silence. To me, it felt like Stockholm Syndrome."
His voice cracked, just a little.
"I couldn't take it anymore. I went down there. Thought I'd sneak her out if I had to. But I overheard them—Shigaraki and that freak doctor—talking like Jess wasn't even a person. Like she was property. And Natsuo..."
He finally looked his brother in the eyes.
"All For One gave her to him. Gave her."
Natsuo's eyes widened, his face going pale. "You mean like—?"
Dabi nodded slowly, his voice hollow. "Like Mom."
Silence crushed the room again—thick, suffocating.
Jess stirred faintly under the blankets, her body twitching with some distant echo of the trauma carved into her.
Dabi never let go of her hand.
"She tried so damn hard to stay strong," he whispered, his thumb stroking over her knuckles. "But no one should've been expected to survive that. Shigaraki was forcing himself on her. And this miscarriage... it's the aftermath."
He hesitated, then added, quieter now, "You know I'm the only one she lets touch her. Toga too. And now you... because she trusts me."
Natsuo looked at him, his expression unreadable for a long beat.
"You're in love with her," he said softly.
Dabi didn't answer right away.
He just stared down at Jess's hand in his, his thumb brushing lightly over her knuckles again. The room felt impossibly still, broken only by the soft, uneven hum of the old TV in the background.
When he finally spoke, his voice was a whisper—ragged, worn thin by everything he'd carried.
"I didn't mean to," he said. "Didn't plan to feel anything for her. At first, she was just someone I needed to get out of that hellhole. Someone who didn't deserve to be there."
Natsuo remained silent, but his expression softened—his shoulders relaxing just a fraction, the tension around his mouth easing, if only a little.
Dabi's gaze remained locked on Jess's hand.
"I carried her out of there," he said quietly. "She didn't even fight me. Just collapsed into my arms like... like she didn't care what happened next. That's when I knew. She was gone, in every way that mattered."
He swallowed hard, voice catching.
"Went to Toga, who helped us pack for the long walk through the sewers. I managed to melt those cuffs off her—she was shocked, stunned. That's when her eyes started to lose that dullness. I got her out. Brought her here. She started looking at me like I was something safe. Even when she was falling apart. Even after everything he did. She still had this spark... like she was trying to hold on for someone."
Dabi's lips twitched faintly. "Sometimes, it felt like that someone was me."
When he left to head up top for supplies, she was always worried he wouldn't return.
Natsuo swallowed hard, his voice hushed and soft. "But you brought her back. She is safe, Touya-nii."
Dabi's eyes flicked up to Jess's sleeping form, curled tightly beneath the blanket, as if trying to disappear into it.
"I'm trying," he said quietly. "I don't know if it's enough. We're supposed to head to the embassy when she's ready."
Natsuo shifted closer, crouching beside the couch. His gaze lingered on Jess for a long, silent moment.
"If you love her," he said softly, "you can't let her carry this alone. Not the weight. Not the shame. She needs more than someone to just sit by her bed. She needs someone who truly sees her. Not her trauma. Not what was done to her. Just... Jess. Not a princess. Just Jess."
Dabi's throat tightened. Those words hit deep—too deep. He nodded once, barely audible.
"I do," he whispered.
Then, softer still—almost like admitting it to himself for the first time—his eyes caught the faint glint of blood seeping from beneath his burned scars.
He looked up at Natsuo and said,
"I love her, Natsuo... I fell hard for her. I think it was at first sight."
Jess's eyes fluttered open, fragile but focused.
"Touya?"
Dabi's hand moved instinctively, reaching out to gently take hers.
"Yeah?"
Her voice was soft, almost hesitant. "Need to change the pad again..."
Touya's lips curved into a tired but tender smile. "Lucky for you, I've got like four towels under you."
Jess flushed faintly, a small spark of warmth in the quiet room.
Touya glanced toward Natsuo, the weight of the moment settling over him.
"Help me get her up, Nat?"
Natsuo nodded without hesitation, rising to his feet. The two brothers moved carefully together, their movements slow and deliberate, every step weighted with quiet concern. They gently supported Jess's arms, mindful of her fragile state, and began guiding her toward the small bathroom area.
The soft drip of blood traced a slow, steady rhythm on the floor beneath them, each drop a stark reminder of the pain she was still enduring. The bunker's dim light cast long shadows, the hum of the old TV now replaced by the faint sound of their careful footsteps.
Jess's voice broke the silence, barely more than a whisper, trembling with weariness.
"Natsuo... when is it gonna stop...?"
Natsuo's expression softened immediately, a mix of sorrow and quiet determination settling into his eyes. He tightened his gentle grip on Jess's arm, offering what little comfort he could.
"A miscarriage can last anywhere from a few days to several weeks," he explained softly, voice steady but compassionate. "The physical process usually wraps up within two weeks, but it depends on how far along the pregnancy was. Later stages tend to bring longer bleeding and recovery. It's tough... I know you're strong, but you'll need rest."
He glanced toward the small medical supplies they had brought along. "I can't stay here long, but I'll go to the pharmacy soon and pick up more medical pads and anything else over-the-counter you might need. If you feel any pain or complications, you have to tell me immediately."
Jess shook her head weakly, her fingers trembling as they brushed against the curtain that separated the bathroom area.
They carefully helped her sit on the toilet seat, easing her down with soft words of reassurance.
"You need privacy?" Dabi asked quietly.
Jess nodded, eyes flickering with a faint trace of gratitude.
"I also have to pee... thank you," she whispered, waving them gently away.
Touya chuckled softly at her subtle shooing and pulled Natsuo aside before gently closing the curtain behind them.
"You want something light to eat?" Dabi asked once they were alone again.
Jess's voice was barely above a whisper. "Yes... some of your leftover chicken noodle soup."
Natsuo's eyes widened in surprise and delight. "Touya-nii's cooking? Can I have a bowl?"
Touya's face fell into a frown, the protective edge sharpening in his tone. "It's for Jess..."
Chapter Text
The lights in the U.A. girls' dorm hallway were dim, casting a warm amber glow across the doors and walls. Most of the students were already in bed or winding down for the night.
Inside Ochaco Uraraka's dorm room, things were a bit more lively.
Toga was curled up on the spare futon pushed against the wall, wearing a ridiculously fluffy pink pajama set covered in tiny white hearts. Her blonde hair was tied into two messy buns, and her face was nuzzled deep into the oversized cat plush Ochaco kept at the foot of her bed.
"Nyahh~," Toga hummed dreamily, squeezing the plush even tighter as she rolled onto her side. "This is so soft, Ochaco-chan... I think I'm in love with your cat."
Ochaco, already in her own star-print sleep shirt, looked up from the homework she was half-heartedly reviewing. She gave a tired smile, one brow lifting in amusement. "That thing's been with me since middle school. You're lucky I'm letting you snuggle it. Most people don't survive its wrath."
Toga giggled and kicked her feet under the blanket. "I'm honored then! First real bed in weeks, and a giant cuddle buddy? Maybe living here won't be so bad."
Her voice softened at the end, a flicker of something complicated passing behind her eyes.
Ochaco caught it, but didn't push. Instead, she closed her notebook and scooted to the edge of her bed, peering down at the girl who used to be an enemy and now... wasn't.
"You okay?"
Toga blinked, then offered a small smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. She was curled around Ochaco's giant cat plush like it was her only anchor, her pink fluffy pajamas soft against the sterile dorm light. "Yeah. Just... weird being here. Not running. Not hiding. Sleeping without hearing the screams."
Ochaco stayed quiet, giving her the space to keep going.
Toga swallowed. "Jess never said anything. Not words. Not once. Just... screamed. And I don't mean like she was scared of the dark. It was worse. Like something inside her was being ripped apart, night after night, and screaming was the only way it could come out."
Her voice cracked a little, and she clung tighter to the plush. "After a while, the screaming got quieter. Not because she got better. Just because she stopped. She went silent. That's when I knew it was worse."
Ochaco's heart twisted in her chest. "Did you ever see her?"
Toga nodded. "Yeah. I was assigned shower duty... but that stopped. For a whole week, he was the only one allowed to see her. I got reassigned after that, and when I saw her again... she barely looked at me. Didn't flinch. Didn't cry. She just... stood there. Let the water run down her back like she didn't care if she drowned standing up. And the way Tomura put his arm around her..." She shivered. "I had a gut feeling something was wrong."
A pause.
"I hope she's okay. I hope Dabi's okay too. He was the only one who looked like he could really reach her near the end. She trusted him. Let him touch her. Let him talk to her. That meant something. And..." Toga's voice dropped. "I hope Tomura-kun gets help. And I hope he has to live with what he did. Really live with it."
Ochaco reached out gently, resting her hand near Toga's on the mattress. "She's got people now. So do you."
Toga didn't move away. "I know."
Downstairs in the common room, Aizawa stood in front of Class 1-A, his arms crossed as the murmurs quieted.
"I expect everyone to be on their best behavior," he said flatly. "Toga will be staying here for a while. She's in temporary housing with Uraraka until a separate room is ready."
There was a beat of stunned silence.
"She's here?" Kaminari blinked. "Like... in the dorms?"
"She left the Paranormal Liberation Front," Aizawa confirmed. "Voluntarily. She requested asylum, and U.A. has agreed to monitor her under strict conditions. She's not a student. Not yet. But she is under our protection."
Izuku stood nearby, hands clenched nervously at his sides. He glanced around at his classmates, then stepped forward.
"It took a lot of courage for her to leave everything she knew behind," he said. "Toga's not the same person she used to be... I've talked to her. She wants to change. Please give her a chance."
His voice trembled slightly but didn't falter. From behind him, a warm hand gently took his own.
"I understand, Izuku," Shoto said quietly, his thumb brushing over Izuku's knuckles. "I'm sure Toga will turn her life around being here."
There were a few exchanged glances, some uncertain, others thoughtful. Kirishima gave a slow nod.
"If Deku and Todoroki believe in her, then... I'll give her a chance too."
"Me too!" Mina chimed in. "I mean, it's kinda wild, but... everyone deserves a shot to be better, right?"
Bakugo didn't say anything at first, just scoffed and folded his arms. But he didn't leave the room.
Aizawa's eyes scanned the room with a serious, almost weary look. His voice dropped low, carrying the weight of the secrets he was about to reveal.
"Good. That's the attitude I expect from future heroes. Your actions need to reflect that mindset every day."
He paused, letting those words sink in before continuing with a sharper edge.
"But there's more. You've all noticed someone's missing from this class."
A quiet hush fell. No one moved. No one spoke.
"Yuga Aoyama," Aizawa said, his voice steady but cold, "was a mole. Planted deep within us by All For One himself."
A collective intake of breath swept through the classroom. Some faces went pale. Others exchanged worried glances.
"Midoriya managed to trick him into the new Luminite Detention Room," Aizawa went on. "He's been held there ever since, isolated. We're still working on what to do next."
The mention of Luminite sent a ripple of unease through the students.
"His family," Aizawa added quietly, "were arrested by the Celtican Royal Guard. Discreetly. You won't hear about it in the news, and you're not to speak of it."
The room grew heavier.
Then, with deliberate gravity, Aizawa shifted focus to a more personal revelation.
"And if you're wondering why Toga has chosen to leave the Liberation Front and come here... this is why."
His gaze locked on Midoriya, who stiffened but said nothing.
"Tomura Shigaraki was ordered by All For One to kidnap the Second Crowned Princess of Celtica."
That announcement landed like a hammer.
The room stilled; the air seemed to freeze.
Bakugo's eyes snapped to Midoriya, voice sharp with disbelief and concern. "Your cousin... is she okay?"
The classroom erupted into murmurs and gasps, voices overlapping with shock and questions.
Midoriya's face tightened, his jaw clenched hard as he fought to maintain control.
"Kacchan," he whispered, eyes flickering with a mix of frustration and fear, "that's supposed to be top secret. I'm not even supposed to say I'm related to the royal family."
Around him, students lowered their voices, the weight of the secret pressing down on the room like a shadow.
Izuku's heart pounded—not just from the exposure, but because now everyone knew a truth he had tried desperately to keep hidden, a truth tied to Jess's suffering and the dark battles ahead.
Shoto gently took Izuku's hand again beneath the desk, his grip warm and grounding. "Izuku..."
Izuku exhaled, nodding slightly. "My mom is distantly related... That's how I'm connected to the Mikcloud royal family. It's a distant bloodline, but it's there."
The room was dead silent now. No one interrupted. No one dared.
Aizawa let the moment pass before speaking again, his voice quieter, more tired. "Anyway. Dabi was the first to act."
He paced slowly in front of the class, his expression unreadable. "He got Princess Jess out of the room she was being kept in. He brought her to Toga, and the two of them made a plan. They risked everything to get her out of that hideout. Toga stayed behind to prepare her own exit... but Dabi? He didn't wait. He got Jess out of that hellhole himself."
Gasps and shocked glances shot across the room.
Aizawa continued. "Right now, the Princess is with Dabi. Safe."
Mina raised a hand halfway, hesitating. "Wait—Dabi's not with the Liberation Front anymore?"
Aizawa nodded. "He left. Took her and vanished underground. From what we've been told, she's suffering from severe fevers and an allergic reaction to the Luminite cuffs she was kept in."
"Luminite..." Iida murmured, eyes widening. "That's that crystal metal that completely nullifies quirks right? Only found in Celtica."
"It is," Aizawa confirmed. "Which makes this all the more shocking—those same cuffs were melted off by Dabi. The royal family was stunned. The fact he did it—without harming her—says more than any of us expected."
Another ripple of murmurs passed through the class.
Kirishima leaned in, whispering to Kaminari, "Dabi melted them off? Without hurting her? That's insane..."
Kaminari blinked. "I mean... that heat he controls? It should've scorched her, even a little."
"But it didn't," Kirishima murmured, eyebrows drawn together. "He chose not to."
Shoto didn't let go of Izuku's hand. His voice was quiet, steady. "We'll keep this quiet. You're not alone in this."
Izuku gave a tight nod, grateful but visibly tense.
Just then, the soft creak of the stairs broke the silence. Ochaco stepped into the common area with Toga trailing behind her in a pair of fluffy pink pajamas. Toga clung to a worn-looking plush cat, her eyes flickering around the room at the dozens of stares before settling awkwardly on the floor.
Ochaco cleared her throat. "Bakugo, can we use the kitchen?"
Bakugo arched a brow, already halfway to the counter. "I'll make something."
Toga blinked. "You will?"
He grunted, grabbing a pan. "I need to let off steam."
Izuku chuckled. "Told you all—cooking helps his anger. Has for years."
Mina whispered to Sero, "If he starts stress-baking muffins again, I'm grabbing ten."
The dim, warm glow of the bunker's lights cast a calm over the room. Jess sat comfortably at the low kotatsu table, a thick blanket over her legs as she spooned up the last bits of steaming chicken noodle soup. Her cheeks were a little flushed, both from the heat and the comfort of real food.
"Mhmm... so yummy," she mumbled, practically melting into the floor.
Across from her, Natsuo sat with his arms crossed and a deep pout stretching his lips. "I want some..."
Dabi's voice floated in from the tiny kitchen space, where he stood at the sink, scrubbing out the pot with casual aggression. "No. It's for Jess."
Natsuo groaned dramatically. "I miss your cooking! You left me with Fuyumi's! Don't get me wrong, her food is fine, but yours? Yours is fucking amazing. Come on, Touya! Just one bowl!"
"Nope," Dabi said without looking back. "She needs it more than you do."
Jess glanced between them, a small smile tugging at her lips. She set the empty bowl aside and leaned into the table with a teasing look. "He does have a point. You made enough for, like, three people."
"I made enough for you to eat three bowls," Dabi said flatly, rinsing off the pot. "Which you probably need."
Natsuo groaned again, flopping sideways dramatically on the floor like a starved cat. "Cruel. Heartless. My own brother..."
Jess chuckled softly, tucking the blanket tighter around herself. "You can have my next bowl, Natsuo. If he makes more."
"No," Dabi called out.
Natsuo pointed accusingly toward the kitchen. "Dictator."
Dabi emerged from the kitchen with a towel slung over one shoulder, having traded out his usual outfit for something far more casual—black pajama capris and a worn, white tank top. The low light in the bunker softened the angles of his body, but it did nothing to hide the jagged, purple scars that streaked across his arms, neck, and collarbone. He sat beside Jess with a low grunt and rested his forearms on the table.
Natsuo's amused pout faded the moment his gaze dropped to Dabi's hands. His brow creased.
"Wait—Touya, what the hell happened to your hands?"
Dabi glanced down as if only now remembering. The skin on his palms and fingers was angry and red, fresh blisters forming beneath the thin top layer. Burns. Not his usual, long-healed ones—new. Raw.
"Oh... these?" he said offhandedly. "From melting the Luminite cuffs off her."
Jess stilled beside him, the spoon halfway to her mouth. The bowl clicked lightly as she set it down and reached out, gently taking his wrist. Her fingers were soft, but her voice carried a quiet, unmistakable weight.
"Touya... that could've severely burned you. Why didn't you say anything earlier? Natsuo, can you treat them?"
Dabi tried to wave it off, looking away like it didn't matter. "It's fine. They'll heal."
"Doesn't mean they should have to," Natsuo muttered, already rising from the floor to go dig through his bag. "Melting Luminite? Are you serious? That metal like crystal meant to block quirks, yours included. What'd you do, go nuclear on it?"
Dabi didn't respond immediately. His gaze was fixed on the steam rising from Jess's soup bowl. When he finally spoke, his voice was low.
"She was in pain. Feverish. Could barely move. I didn't have time to think. I just—melted the damn things."
Jess swallowed hard, guilt tightening in her chest. She brushed her thumb over one of the burns on his hand, wincing at how hot his skin still felt.
"Still insane that you could even melt them..."
"I'd do it again, if it's to free you." he said without missing a beat.
That silenced them all for a moment.
Natsuo returned with the med kit and crouched beside his brother, laying the supplies out with practiced ease. "Okay, hold still. I'm studying to be a doctor here so I know what I'm going.."
Natsuo opened a small bottle of antiseptic and gave him a warning glance. "This is gonna sting like a bitch."
Jess flinched when Dabi did, just slightly, as the antiseptic hissed over his open skin. His teeth clenched, but he didn't pull away. Jess leaned closer, her hand resting on the edge of the table near his.
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
He shook his head, eyes focused on the floor. "Don't be. You didn't ask for any of this."
"I still feel like a burden."
Dabi looked up then, catching her eyes. His were tired, glassy at the edges, but steady. "You're not. You never were."
Natsuo didn't say anything, but the way his hands moved more gently as he wrapped the bandages around Dabi's burns spoke volumes. No jokes now. Just care.
After a beat of silence, Dabi exhaled, then gave him a small, tired smirk. "Thanks, Natsuo. You should probably get going."
Natsuo blinked and pulled out his phone. "Oh crap... it's almost midnight."
Dabi stood up, stretching with a slight wince as the tension in his shoulders tugged at old scar tissue. "Grab your kit. I'll walk you to the ladder."
"Sure," Natsuo replied, quietly snapping the medical case shut and slinging it over his shoulder.
"You remember the trail in the sewers?" Dabi asked him.
Natsuo raised an eyebrow but nodded, his voice softer now. "Yeah. I remember."
He glanced at his phone. "Tomorrow. You and me—drugstore run. It's a big one, open 24/7. We'll stock up on everything. We'll need a list."
As he tapped into his notes app, he murmured to himself, "Painkillers, fever meds, antiseptic, vitamins... maybe something soft she can sleep in."
He hesitated, then looked toward Jess. "Will she be okay by herself...?"
Jess lifted her gaze from the kotatsu, still holding her half-empty bowl of soup. The warmth hadn't faded from her face. Her voice was calm, steady.
"I'll be fine," she said with a faint smile. "I know Touya will come back."
Dabi looked at her. For a moment, his expression was unreadable—but the hard lines in his face eased. His eyes, even under the staples and old burns, softened. Something unspoken passed between them: an unshakable thread of trust, and maybe more.
"Fine," Dabi muttered, turning back to Natsuo. "But not too early in the morning."
Natsuo smirked, nudging his brother with his elbow as they walked. "Still not a morning person, huh? You and Shoto are the same in that department."
Dabi didn't answer. As he passed Jess, his hand briefly brushed the top of her head—a quiet, protective gesture. Then he led Natsuo toward the far end of the bunker, where the metal ladder led back into the dark tunnels.
Jess sat quietly, the kotatsu's warmth wrapping around her like a small shield.
Natsuo climbed the ladder with practiced ease, the sound of his boots echoing off the damp tunnel walls. Dabi waited until he was out of sight before pulling the heavy metal hatch closed with a low clang. The old locking mechanism clicked into place with a firm chik-chik, and just like that, they were sealed in again—back to their own world beneath the city.
He exhaled through his nose, turning back toward the soft glow of the kotatsu.
Jess was still there, her soup bowl resting in front of her, but she looked up at him with a small smile as he returned. "You finished with the soup?" he asked.
Jess nodded. "Yes. It was very yummy."
Dabi chuckled low in his throat, walking over to retrieve the bowl. "Glad to hear it."
He took the bowl and spoon and padded barefoot into the kitchen area, his tank top loose on his frame, scars shifting with each movement.
Jess quietly stood, stretching a little, then moved toward the bathroom area. The soft patter of her socks on the floor barely made a sound as she rounded the corner and tugged the thick curtain closed behind her.
Dabi glanced over his shoulder at the motion, his eyes lingering for a moment on the gently swaying fabric. A faint smile tugged at his lips—small, but real. He turned back to the sink and ran the water, washing the bowl and spoon with careful attention, his hands still aching beneath the fresh bandages.
For a while, the only sounds were the low rush of water.
Peaceful.
Strangely peaceful.
Jess washed her hands and pulled back the curtain, stepping out of the bathroom area. Suddenly, she wavered, a slight dizziness stealing her balance.
Dabi, who had just finished drying his hands, gasped and caught her before she could fall.
"You alright?" he asked, concern threading through his voice.
Jess nodded weakly. "Sorry... I got dizzy."
"No need to apologize," Dabi said quietly, still holding her steady. "Natsuo warned me you'd feel dizzy sometimes, with the miscarriage..."
Jess leaned her head into his chest, feeling small against him—she was only 5'3", and he stood at 5'9¼. His hands moved gently, rubbing slow, soothing circles across her back.
A soft hum of contentment slipped from Jess's lips as the warmth of his touch settled into her skin. Slowly, she lifted her head, their eyes meeting—his turquoise blue, hers emerald green.
Her cheeks flushed, a delicate pink bloom against her porcelain skin. Dabi's breath hitched, his left hand rising to cup her cheek with careful tenderness.
It was as if an invisible force had drawn them together, a quiet gravity neither had expected but both felt undeniable. The air around them softened, the usual tension easing into something fragile and warm. Jess shifted slightly, rising onto her tiptoes, her breath catching as their eyes locked—his turquoise meeting her emerald green, a silent conversation passing between them.
Dabi lowered himself slowly, his scarred hand still cradling her cheek, and when their lips met, it was gentle—deliberate, yet trembling with all the weight of unspoken feelings. The kiss wasn't hurried or frantic; it was patient, like a whispered promise in the dark, full of tenderness and something raw and real.
Their bodies instinctively leaned into each other, moving as if for balance and reassurance. The world outside that cramped little space—the bunker, the pain, the fear—seemed to pause, leaving only the steady warmth of their connection.
When they finally pulled apart, it was with reluctance, foreheads resting together as they breathed in sync, sharing a quiet, intimate moment that felt like the first fragile step toward healing.
Dabi's voice was low and rough, almost unsure. "Did... that just happen?"
Jess offered a soft, breathy hum, her cheeks flushed deeper now, her gaze flickering down before returning to his. "Yeah... it did."
They lingered in that suspended silence, neither rushing to speak or move away. Instead, they held onto the quiet assurance between them—two fractured souls finding a small spark of peace in a world that had taken so much.
For a moment, the weight of everything else lifted, leaving only the gentle truth of this simple, human connection.
Jess blinked up at him, her eyes a little glassy, her cheeks still warm. The emotional pull of everything—her body healing, her heart trying to catch up—had finally caught up with her. She swayed slightly where she stood, and Dabi noticed it instantly.
"You look exhausted," he murmured.
Before she could argue, he bent down and scooped her up with ease, one arm beneath her knees, the other around her back, holding her close in a careful but steady grip.
Jess let out a soft gasp, startled. "T-Touya...?"
Dabi chuckled under his breath, walking slowly toward the bed tucked against the far side of the bunker. "You looked like you were about to tip over. Time for bed. I need sleep too."
She relaxed into his hold, the tension in her limbs softening as her head came to rest lightly against his shoulder. There was something comforting about the way he carried her—unshaken, deliberate, safe.
Jess smiled, eyes fluttering halfway closed. "This feels like the first time you carried me like this... back when you rescued me. From that room."
Dabi's steps faltered for just a heartbeat.
He glanced down at her, his face unreadable at first—but then the flicker of pain, of memory, passed behind his eyes. He tightened his hold just a little.
"I remember," he said quietly. "You were barely conscious. Cold as ice. I didn't even think—I just had to get you out."
Jess hummed softly. "You were warm, then. You're warm now."
Dabi swallowed, his voice a little rougher now. "You're not in that room anymore, Jess. You're here. With me."
When he finally laid her down, pulling the blanket gently over her, he lingered beside the bed. Jess's fingers reached up, brushing against the back of his hand, the contact light—seeking comfort, not pulling.
"Lay with me tonight," she whispered, her voice fragile but clear. "It's okay..."
Dabi blinked, caught off guard by her request. "You sure?" he asked, his voice low, hesitant. "You're still bleeding... I don't want to hurt you."
Jess gave him a faint, sleepy smile, her eyes already beginning to drift, though the blush on her cheeks deepened. "Cuddle... I wanna cuddle," she murmured, her tone tender and honest.
Something inside Dabi eased—his usual tension, his guardedness—it all softened just a little in that moment.
"...Alright," he said gently.
He moved slowly, deliberately, slipping beneath the blanket beside her. He didn't touch her right away, giving her space, letting her choose how close she wanted him.
But Jess shifted first, curling slightly toward him with her back against his chest, her smaller frame fitting against him like a puzzle piece. Dabi wrapped an arm around her middle, mindful of her soreness, letting his hand rest just above her waist.
Her body was still warm from the soup and the shower, but now it was starting to relax fully, the comfort of closeness wrapping around her like a second blanket.
Dabi's voice came barely above a whisper. "I've got you."
Jess let out a soft hum, her fingers curling lightly around his forearm.
"I know."
In the low hum of the bunker, with the distant drip of pipes and the faint buzz of an old bulb, silence settled over them—not heavy or tense, but peaceful. Safe.
Sleep came gently, for both of them.
It was around 9 a.m. when Dabi's eyes slowly opened to the faint mechanical hum that echoed through the bunker—the low whirring of the ventilation system weaving through the stillness like a heartbeat. There was no natural light down here, no sunrise to warm the walls, but the space was far from cold.
It was her.
Jess.
She was curled up tightly against his left side, nestled so closely that he could feel the soft rhythm of her breathing against his ribs. Her head rested just beneath his collarbone, her shorter frame folded into him as though she'd always fit there. Her left hand was splayed lightly across his chest, fingers twitching in sleep, her breath warm and even. He could feel the faintest exhale against his skin every few seconds, like she was reminding him she was here, alive, safe.
Dabi didn't move. He barely breathed.
There was something sacred about the moment, something too fragile to disturb. The chaos of the outside world, the agony of what she'd been through—what they'd been through—none of it could reach them here. Not right now. Not with the blanket cocooning them, her body pressed into his like she'd trusted him with the last piece of herself.
The memory of the night before lingered behind his eyes like a film reel that refused to stop playing. That kiss. That quiet, tentative kiss that had pulled them both out of whatever storm they'd been drowning in.
He remembered how it felt—Jess rising slightly on her tiptoes, her eyes wide but certain, her cheeks flushed as her lips touched his. The softness of her mouth against his rougher one, the way she didn't hesitate, not even for a second, when her lips brushed over his scarred skin. There was no fear in her, no judgment—only something quiet and real. His heart had thundered in his chest, and for the first time in what felt like forever, it hadn't been from panic or adrenaline.
It had been something else.
Dabi let his gaze fall on her now, studying the soft curve of her features. The faint bruising beneath her eyes had lightened, and there was a gentleness in her sleeping expression that he hadn't seen in weeks. Months, maybe. It was like her body had finally given itself permission to rest. To stop fighting for just a moment.
He blinked slowly, his arm still draped around her shoulders, and felt the sting of something unexpected in the back of his throat. She trusted him. After everything that had happened, after everything they both had survived, she still trusted him enough to fall asleep like this. Wrapped in his warmth, breathing steadily, unafraid.
He moved his hand slowly, brushing a loose strand of her hair back from her forehead, his fingers rough and calloused but impossibly gentle in their touch. He let them linger there, just for a moment, cupping the side of her head in a quiet gesture of care he didn't know he was capable of showing anymore. His palm practically dwarfed her skull. She was so small, so delicate, yet stronger than anyone he had ever known.
She made a soft sound in her sleep and shifted, nuzzling her cheek closer into his chest like she could feel him thinking too loud. He froze again, then smiled—just a little, just enough for the scar tissue on his cheeks to pull. Not one of his usual smirks, not the smug kind that masked pain or shielded him from vulnerability. This was different.
Softer.
More real.
For a brief, aching second, he wondered how long this would last. How long before the world came knocking again? Before someone tried to take her from him, or worse, before she realized just how broken he really was. How much darkness still clung to him like smoke in his lungs.
But Jess stirred again, her hand tightening ever so slightly on his shirt, like she was holding on even in her sleep.
Her eyelashes fluttered as her eyes slowly opened, unfocused at first before they found him. A sleepy smile tugged at her lips—small, but real—as she blinked up at him from the safety of his chest.
Dabi's expression softened even more, the corners of his mouth lifting just a little. "Morning..." he said, his voice still low and rough with sleep.
"Morning," she murmured, her voice quiet and warm. She shifted slightly against him, a soft exhale leaving her as she stretched her legs under the covers. "I feel fine today... no fever."
Dabi raised an eyebrow, skeptical but gently amused. "Yeah? Let me check, okay?"
Jess gave a tiny nod, not moving from her spot. Dabi leaned in a bit, resting the back of his fingers against her forehead with surprising tenderness. His skin was cooler than hers, and his touch was careful, deliberate—like he was scared he'd hurt her if he pressed too hard.
Her temperature felt normal.
No clammy heat. No sweat. Just the soft warmth of her skin.
He shifted his hand slightly, brushing her bangs away to feel along the side of her neck. Jess didn't flinch. Instead, she leaned into his palm just a little, like his touch anchored her.
"You're right," Dabi said after a beat, voice still soft. "No fever. That's good."
Jess let out a small, relieved sigh, her hand still resting on his chest. "Guess Natsuo's meds helped..."
Dabi nodded slowly. "Yeah. And maybe finally getting some real sleep."
Their eyes met again, and for a moment neither of them said anything. There was no rush, no need to fill the quiet. It was the kind of silence that felt safe—earned.
Jess blinked slowly, then smiled again. "Thanks for staying with me..."
"I wasn't gonna leave you," Dabi replied without hesitation. "Not after everything."
Jess's gaze lingered on his, and her voice dropped a little. "You really mean that?"
His thumb brushed lightly across her forehead, a rare tenderness in his movements. "I wouldn't say it if I didn't."
For a second, neither of them moved—just the quiet thrum of the fan in the background and the soft weight of their shared warmth under the blanket. Then Dabi inhaled deeply and sat up, stretching his shoulders with a quiet grunt. "Alright, let's get up. I'll make some breakfast."
Jess giggled lightly, rubbing her eyes. "I'd like to take a nice shower first... and, um..." she flushed slightly, tucking her face partly into the pillow. "Change my pad..."
Dabi blinked, then offered a small smirk, not teasing—just understanding. "Right. Yeah. That makes sense."
He didn't make a joke or look away awkwardly. If anything, there was a certain calmness in how he accepted it—like he was just glad she felt safe enough to say it out loud.
Jess peeked over at him again, her cheeks still pink. "Sorry. That was probably too much information..."
Dabi stood and stretched his arms behind his back with a soft crack of his spine. "Jess," he said, glancing down at her with a raised brow. "After everything we've been through... trust me. That doesn't even scratch the surface of 'too much.'"
Jess laughed again, more freely this time. "You have a point."
He walked over to the curtain separating the shower and bathroom area, tugging it open for her. "Go ahead. I'll be in the kitchen. Don't rush."
Jess pushed the blanket back and carefully sat up, legs swinging down off the side of the bed. She stood slowly, steadying herself with a deep breath before walking toward him.
As she passed, her fingers brushed his arm—light and unspoken, but purposeful. A silent "thank you."
Dabi watched her go, his eyes lingering for just a moment before he turned and headed to the kitchen. The morning was still quiet, the kind of quiet that didn't press down, but offered room to breathe.
It was a new start—uneven, fragile, but real.
Early Afternoon
The sun filtered through the blinds of Natsuo's small apartment, painting angled lines across the table where a black med case sat packed and ready. He was tugging on his hoodie, a folded-up list poking out of his hoodie pocket, when his phone buzzed across the table.
Endeavor.
Natsuo's eyes narrowed immediately. The name alone made his stomach clench. He debated ignoring it—again—but after a few rings, he sighed through his nose and snatched the phone up.
"...What?"
There was a pause on the other end, then the gruff voice he hated more than any villain barked through the speaker.
"Don't be rude, Natsuo. Fuyumi wants you to come to dinner tonight. Pick up Shoto on your way here."
Natsuo's jaw clenched. Of course it was Fuyumi. She always scheduled those damn family dinners—like she could force them into a picture-perfect home life by sheer will alone. But it was never just dinner. It was her trying to fix something that was way too broken.
And the worst part? He didn't want to hurt her feelings. But—
"No. I have studying today. I've got exams tomorrow," Natsuo said flatly, walking to grab his shoes.
A beat passed. Endeavor's voice came colder this time. "This family can't keep pretending there's time."
Natsuo scoffed. "Pretending is your specialty, old man. I said I can't. Tell Fuyumi I'll call her later."
He hung up before hearing another word and tossed the phone face-down on the table. His chest rose and fell sharply as he rubbed the back of his neck, exhaling a slow breath.
"God, why does she keep doing this?" he muttered, grabbing his bag and slinging it over his shoulder. She knew exactly how he felt about those dinners. About him.
But there wasn't time to dwell on that now. Dabi—no, Touya—was waiting. They had supplies to get, and Jess needed them.
"Focus," he murmured to himself, heading out the door and locking it behind him.
Jess sat at the edge of the kotatsu, quietly sipping from a glass of water while her eyes followed every move Dabi made. He was slipping on his favorite black hoodie—the one with the familiar staple designs across the sleeves and shoulder seams, frayed just enough to show how often it had been worn. He adjusted the collar absently, then grabbed his worn black jeans and slid into them with practiced ease. His canvas shoes squeaked faintly as he stepped onto the concrete.
Jess's cheeks flushed. God, why did he have to look that good doing literally nothing?
"...I wanna come," she said suddenly, her voice small but hopeful.
Dabi paused, halfway through tying his shoe. He slowly lifted his head and turned to her, turquoise eyes wide. "J-Jess... I don't think—"
"Please...?" she stood carefully, a little wobbly, but she held her balance. "Some fresh air would be good for me. I've been inside for a couple days... Please, Touya?"
That voice—her saying his name like that—Touya with that softness—it was practically a weapon.
Dabi ran a hand through his messy black hair and sighed deeply, trying not to look too affected. But damn it, she was too cute for her own good.
"Alright..." he relented, voice low. "But you wear what Toga packed for you. The purple hoodie, black fleece leggings, and the high tops."
Jess lit up instantly, beaming at him like the sun had just come through the bunker ceiling.
Dabi pointed toward the bed. "Come on, let's get you dressed. You sit—I'll help."
She giggled lightly and shuffled toward the bed as Dabi moved to grab the folded clothes. As he handed her the leggings and hoodie, his fingers brushed against hers, warm and gentle.
He gave her a warning look. "We're just going to the drug store with Natsuo. No wandering, no pushing yourself. You still need to heal."
Jess nodded, already peeling off her sleep shirt with no hesitation. "I know. But I want to be with you."
Dabi turned quickly to give her privacy, ears slightly pink as he muttered under his breath, "You're gonna be the death of me..."
Chapter Text
The air was damp in the tunnels, echoing with the distant drip of water and the quiet splash of their footsteps. Dabi moved ahead, his black hoodie tugged over his head, the metal staples glinting faintly under the flickering sewer lights. Jess followed close behind him, her breath soft but steady, adjusting to the close air and the occasional uneven step.
It was her first time out of the bunker since Dabi had rescued her. Days of shadows and quiet healing now gave way to this dim journey toward something new. Her eyes scanned everything—the rough stone walls, the moss creeping along cracks, the echo of the world above far out of reach. And beside her, Dabi made sure his steps matched hers, glancing back every now and then.
They reached the staircase—aged concrete that spiraled up into the dark. Jess placed a hand against the wall for balance and followed Dabi up, breath catching slightly at the effort. At the top, the old subway gate loomed: rusted, chained, and bent just enough to be useful.
Dabi crouched, gripping the bottom and lifting it with a low grunt until the gate groaned open as far as it would go. “You gonna be okay crawling under there?” he asked, half-turning back toward her.
Jess gave him a soft, knowing smile. “I do have martial arts training, you know. I’m not just some Princess.”
Dabi opened his mouth, but she wasn’t finished.
“If it hadn’t been for that Nomu walking in with Shigaraki the first day, I would’ve wrapped my legs around his neck and snapped it.” Her voice dropped. “I was in nothing but a bra and underwear, Touya…”
His expression darkened instantly.
She crawled under the gate first, strong and fluid, pausing on the other side to hold it up for him. Dabi followed, his jaw clenched. When she let the gate slowly slide back down with a clang, he couldn’t look at her right away.
Stripped. Day one. Fucking hell…
Jess didn’t speak of it further. She didn’t need to. She stood a few feet away, her gaze rising toward the sky.
The world outside stretched wide and crisp in the afternoon light. The scent of dry leaves and cold iron filled her lungs, and she took a deep breath in—her first taste of open air in far too long.
“It’s Autumn,” she whispered. “October 27th already…” Her eyes softened, glowing slightly under the hazy light. “My birthday’s in four days.”
Dabi turned toward her “Yes I remember you tell me. Halloween Baby.”
Jess looked at him and smiled gently, her hands tucked into the purple hoodie Toga had picked out for her. “It feels good to breathe again.”
Dabi didn’t say anything right away. But he stepped up beside her, close enough that their shoulders nearly brushed.
“You’re free now,” Dabi said, voice low and soft, just above a whisper.
Jess looked up at him, the sunlight catching in her eyes. Without a word, she reached out and took his hand, gently lacing her fingers with his. “And I have you with me,” she murmured.
That did it.
A flush rose up Dabi’s neck and across his cheeks. He glanced away sharply, but not before she caught it. Quickly, he pulled his mask up over his mouth and tugged his sunglasses down over his eyes, pretending to adjust them just so. Jess giggled softly, the sound light and warm in the cool air.
She slipped on her own sunglasses, still smiling. The sun was bright, the sky a pale blue cut through with the chill of late October. A few brittle leaves scraped across the cracked pavement as a breeze passed them.
“Why do you have to be so damn cute?” Dabi muttered under his breath, barely audible.
Jess caught it anyway, her grin widening. “Come on,” she said, tugging his hand gently. “Let’s head to the pinged location for the drug store.”
He lifted his phone to check the GPS. The map glowed faintly in the morning light. “Four blocks that way,” he said, nodding to the left.
His hand remained in hers, his grip easy but steady. He was wearing his usual fingerless gloves, hiding most of the worst scars and staples that trailed up his arms. Jess glanced at them briefly but didn’t comment. She didn’t need to. She already knew what was underneath—and she was still holding his hand.
They stepped out together into the quiet city street, walking side by side like they had done it a hundred times before.
At the League’s villa, the library was unusually still.
Compress sat quietly near the center of the room, his mask set aside on the small end table beside him. A slim notebook rested open on his lap, pen in hand, one leg crossed neatly over the other. The soft ticking of a nearby clock and the occasional creak of the old building were the only sounds as he waited.
Ten minutes had passed since he received the ping that Tomura was awake.
And finally, the door creaked open.
Compress looked up from his notes.
Tomura stepped in slowly—dragging, almost. He looked like hell. His pale hair was disheveled, falling into his eyes, and the dark circles under them seemed worse than usual. His clothes hung looser on his frame than they should’ve, and there was something fragile about the way he carried himself, like each step was heavier than it ought to be.
Compress’s gaze didn’t falter. He didn’t speak at first—he simply tapped the end of his pen against the notebook and then subtly pointed toward the lodge chair by the fireplace.
Tomura didn’t argue. He bit his lip, the tension in his jaw visible even from across the room, and wordlessly moved to the chair. He eased down into it with a sharp exhale and curled slightly into the cushions, head leaning back as he shut his eyes for a beat.
Compress waited another few seconds before he spoke, his voice calm but edged with quiet intent.
“Ready, Tomura?”
Tomura’s eyes cracked open. Bloodshot, unfocused, but aware. Barely.
“…Yeah,” he murmured.
But the way he said it sounded more like a plea than a confirmation.
While things remained quiet upstairs, a very different kind of tension simmered below.
The metallic hiss of hydraulics broke the silence as the door to the underground lab creaked open. A weary voice echoed from within, hoarse and habitual.
“Oh, Tomu—” Dr. Garaki started, adjusting his goggles as he looked up from his notes.
But it wasn’t Tomura standing in the corridor.
It was Geten.
And he wasn’t alone.
Behind him stood three other loyal lieutenants of the Liberation remnants—men and women who had grown increasingly disillusioned with the Doctor’s involvement and the way the League’s future was being steered. They weren’t here for talk.
Garaki froze.
“Dr. Garaki,” Geten said coolly, voice smooth but laced with venom. His white-blonde hair was tousled from the wind outside, his breath now visibly fogging in the corridor. “You are no longer welcome at the villa. You have one hour to gather your experiments, your notes, and your rotten stench—before I make you leave.”
The temperature dropped instantly, the icy draft slithering into the lab like a ghost. Beakers frosted over. The floor tiles cracked under a sudden chill.
Twice popped his head in from behind a pillar down the hallway, bundled in one of his knock-off winter coats and shivering violently. “DUDE’S GONNA START ANOTHER ICE AGE! I’M SO COLD—MY TEETH ARE DOING A MARACA DANCE!”
Garaki’s lips parted, then closed again as he assessed the seriousness in Geten’s narrowed eyes. He tried to lift a hand in protest, but even that slight movement caused Geten’s quirk to spike—shards of frost zipped up a nearby pipe, nearly splitting it.
“You're making a mistake,” Garaki finally said, his voice barely more than a brittle whisper, cracking under the weight of his own arrogance. “All For One—”
“All For One has no power here,” Geten cut in sharply, his tone as frigid as the air that now crept across the tile floor. “Not anymore. You and that man manipulated Tomura—warped him—into doing something he never would’ve done on his own. You made him force himself on the Princess.”
The lab’s harsh overhead lights flickered, casting jagged, spidery shadows across the cluttered counters and walls. Garaki opened his mouth again, but no words came out.
“You have fifty-eight minutes left,” Geten said coldly.
Then he turned without waiting for a reply, his boots leaving a trail of frost in their wake as the temperature in the hallway plummeted.
“GETEN!” a voice called from down the corridor.
Geten glanced over his shoulder. Spinner stood in front of an open room, his face unreadable. “I think... this was her room,” he said quietly. “Some of Tomura’s stuff is still in here… looks like he really did move half his things in. I guess… to be closer to her…”
Geten’s eyes widened.
He strode down the hallway with urgency in every step, the air tightening further around him with every footfall. When he reached the doorway and looked in, his chest clenched.
It was quiet now—too quiet. The kind of silence that haunted.
To think she was in this room. Suffering. Screaming. And then, eventually… not screaming.
And the worst part? Something else had replaced those cries—something twisted, quiet, and far more insidious. The kind of sounds no one else in the villa would’ve heard, tucked away like this.
Geten's jaw tensed. His breath fogged visibly in the air. Then, his voice came low and razor-edged:
“Remove everything from this room.”
The world above ground felt so different.
Jess walked beside Dabi, her fingers laced tightly with his. Every step away from the sewers felt like a small victory—like she was reclaiming a piece of herself, one breath of crisp October air at a time.
They looked like a couple. Casual, maybe even normal, as they walked together down the quiet sidewalk. Dabi’s favorite black hoodie hung loosely on his frame, the sleeves pushed up just enough to show his fingerless gloves. Jess wore the soft purple hoodie Toga had left her, her black fleece leggings hugging her legs as she adjusted the sleeves over her hands, her high-tops softly tapping against the pavement.
Their sunglasses shielded them from the morning glare, but not from each other.
Dabi felt it. That strange, warm tug in his chest every time she giggled or bumped her shoulder against his. Like the bond they were forming down in that bunker was following them up into daylight.
They rounded the corner, and Jess blinked as she spotted the drugstore.
It was large, with sliding glass doors and big red signage in kanji. Shelves of magazines and snack displays peeked through the wide windows. It reminded her of a Japanese version of Walgreens—organized, colorful, and buzzing faintly with everyday life.
Standing by the entrance, checking his phone, was Natsuo.
Dabi stiffened beside her. “There he is.”
Jess squeezed his hand gently. “You okay?”
He grunted, then glanced down at her with a soft expression. “Yeah. Just... weird you know... I liked it better I when stalked my siblings.” Jess giggled at him.
As they approached, Natsuo looked up. His white hair caught the sunlight, and when his eyes landed on Jess, they softened instantly. Then they flicked to Dabi—and narrowed slightly.
“You brought her?” Natsuo said, voice low as they came within earshot.
“She wanted to come,” Dabi answered calmly. “Fresh air. She’s doing better.”
Jess gave Natsuo a small smile. “I’m okay. I needed this.”
Natsuo studied her—really studied her. His eyes moved over Jess’s posture, the tone of her skin, the faint flush in her cheeks, the way she stood close to Dabi but not behind him. There was still a fragility to her, but she was upright, alert, and meeting his gaze.
After a moment, he nodded once, a subtle shift of his expression that said okay. The tension in his shoulders, which had crept up the moment he saw them, eased just a little.
“Hold still,” he said, pulling a small fingertip oximeter from his coat pocket.
Jess immediately held out her hand without hesitation. It said a lot, that simple gesture. She trusted him. No flinch, no hesitation. Dabi watched silently, his hand still hovering near her back.
The little device beeped to life, its display glowing green. Natsuo chuckled. “Ninety-seven. Yep, no fever. Good oxygen. That’s better than mine most mornings.”
Jess offered a soft smile. “That’s a relief.”
He glanced up from the device, his voice lowering just slightly. “But how’s the pain? The bleeding?”
Jess shifted on her feet. “Not too bad today. It slowed down a lot… Still sore though. Cramps come and go.”
Natsuo nodded, slipping the oximeter back into his coat. “That’s normal. Just keep tracking it.”
He looked between them—Jess with her quiet resilience, and Dabi with his unreadable face, but whose hand hadn’t left hers once.
“Alright,” he said finally, stepping toward the doors. “Let’s get what you need.”
The glass doors hissed open as they entered the bright, crisp air of the store. Jess blinked at the sheer size of the place. Shelves lined with rows of brightly colored packaging stretched out in every direction—medications, snacks, toiletries, vitamins. It was almost overwhelming after
Location: Tokyo Underground – Crimson Den
The lair reeked of desperation and fear.
The underground kingpin was on his hands and knees, forehead nearly pressed to the cold stone floor. His entire body trembled, sweat dripping down his temple despite the chill in the air. Around him, his guards stood frozen, too terrified to move, barely breathing.
Sora Mikcloud Kuran stood in the center of the room like a shadowed god. Tall, composed, and wrapped in black combat gear, the faint golden streak in his otherwise jet-black hair shimmered under the flickering lights. His golden eyes, unnaturally bright, bore down on the man like judgment itself.
"Forgive me!" the kingpin pleaded. "I—I searched every network, every route, even in the slums—nobody’s seen the princess! Please, Nightshade!"
Sora tilted his head slightly. His gloved hand slowly lifted, fingers curling as a faint hum of energy shimmered around them—purple-black disintegration crackling like dying stars across his palm.
"I see..." His voice was quiet. Dangerous.
The men behind the kingpin flinched. One of them swallowed audibly. They knew what was coming.
Sora took a single step forward, boots echoing against the stone floor. "Then I suppose you're of no further use to me."
Panic flashed in the kingpin’s eyes. "Wait—please—!"
Just as Sora's palm lifted with his other hand and finger curled under that gloved hand, ready to reduce the man to ash, a voice echoed from the doorway:
"Sora."
The air seemed to shift.
Everyone turned.
A tall man entered the lair with slow, deliberate steps. Despite his graying hair and the deep scar across his jaw, his presence was sharp and commanding. Clad in a long black coat embroidered with the silver insignia of Celtica, he carried the weight of a thousand silent kills behind each measured stride.
A voice made everything gasps and turn to doorway as James Kuran, the legend of the criminal underground. the retired assassin himself. The current the duke of Celtica married into the Mikcloud family.
The room went deathly quiet.
Sora didn’t turn. His posture stiffened, lips pressing into a firm line. "...I'm busy, Father."
James stopped a few feet behind his son, arms crossed over his chest.
“Jess has made contact.”
Silence. Then—
“She’s alive. Safe. She’s in hiding... with Dabi.”
The crackle of energy in Sora’s palm abruptly vanished. He turned sharply to face his father, eyes wide, his expression flickering between disbelief and raw emotion.
“She’s okay?!” he asked, voice suddenly stripped of all his earlier coldness.
James nodded once. “She is. She reached out to us. She escaped the League.”
Sora took a breath like he hadn’t in years. But then the relief melted into anger. His jaw clenched. “Why the hell is she with Dabi?! That villain—!”
“Because,” James cut in calmly, “he’s the one who saved her.”
Sora froze.
James stepped closer, his voice low. “There’s more you need to know. Much more. But not here.”
The underground kingpin still knelt behind them, silent and forgotten. Sora didn’t even look at him.
Instead, Sora’s golden eyes burned with a new fire. “Take me to her.”
“I can’t,” James said calmly, though his voice held the weight of finality. “She’s in hiding, Sora. When she’s ready, she’ll return to the embassy.”
Sora clenched his jaw, his frustration showing as he exhaled through his nose. “So I’m just supposed to wait?”
“Yes. And while you wait—go outside. Your mother is in the limo. She’s been waiting.”
With a quiet sigh and a reluctant pout, Sora turned on his heel and walked out of the underground lair, his long coat sweeping behind him.
The moment he disappeared, the tension in the room thickened like fog. The underground kingpin, still kneeling on the cold floor, bowed low again.
“Thank you, Revan,” he murmured.
Ah… that name. One James hadn’t heard in years. The assassin name that made empires tremble.
James turned to him slowly. That old, deadly smirk curled on his face—a flash of the Revan that once haunted the criminal underworld like a ghost in the dark.
“Oh, Yama,” James said coolly. “If word leaks out that my daughter is alive… I will know who spoke.”
He stepped forward once, the echo of his boot like a gunshot.
“And I will come back. And remind you why the name Revan was feared.”
The cart was slowly becoming a small fortress of necessities and little comforts, each item a quiet testament to the fragility and resilience Jess carried with her. She carefully placed a box of heating pads next to the burn cream, mindful of the delicate balance between practical care and the unspoken wounds they were meant to soothe. The vitamins, stacked neatly, were meant to bolster her fragile strength, while the grape-flavored Propel waters and the large pack of Cherry Cola offered a small, sweet reprieve from the heaviness of their reality.
As Jess moved through the aisles, her fingers brushed over the familiar shapes of body wash, shampoo, and conditioner—simple things she once took for granted, now treasured small luxuries. She added toothbrushes and toothpaste, her movements slow but purposeful, as if each item was a stitch sewing together a fragile thread of normalcy. Mouthwash, a new hairbrush, lotion, foot care products—items that whispered of routines and self-care she desperately wanted to reclaim.
Her eyes lingered on a display of black scrunchies before she carefully selected a few, then paused at the feminine hygiene section. Without hesitation, Jess chose twenty pairs of menstrual panties designed for heavy flow days, a practical yet intimate choice. She added a couple of sports bras—support and comfort in soft fabric, something she hadn’t allowed herself in a long time.
Natsuo, quietly observing, raised an eyebrow as Jess placed a final item in the cart—a box of mint chocolate patties. His eyes twinkled with amusement.
Dabi’s low chuckle filled the quiet space between them. “You do realize who’s footing the bill for all this, right?”
Natsuo glanced up, a half-smile tugging at his lips. “Endeavor. Haven’t even touched the family account yet. But I guess this is the best time to use his money, huh?”
Dabi laughed openly now, the sound easing some of the tension they all carried. It was a brief moment of levity in a world that hadn’t been kind to any of them lately.
Jess watched them both, warmth rising in her chest. The simple act of shopping, of choosing things for herself, felt like a small rebellion against the darkness she’d been dragged through. For once, she wasn’t just the princess, or the captive, or the victim—she was just Jess, a girl who liked cherry-flavored drinks and mint chocolate patties.
The bustling sounds of the store surrounded them—the distant hum of fluorescent lights overhead, the soft rustle of carts rolling across polished floors, and the low murmur of other customers drifting through aisles. The scent of fresh produce mingled with the faint perfume of cleaning products, grounding the moment in ordinary normalcy.
Suddenly, Jess gasped, her breath catching in surprise. She stopped abruptly just before the front of the store, eyes sparkling as she skipped over to a display—a stunning purple crockpot, its glossy finish catching the light just right.
“Touya! Look at this! I can so make my family’s famous Tavern mushroom pot roast! Please?!” Her voice held a bright excitement that hadn’t been there in a long time.
Dabi blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “Huh, I do like mushrooms...” He shot a sideways glance at Natsuo, smirking. “Well, Natsuo, the flaming piece of crap is paying for this wonderful gift, so I get to taste it.” He strode over and grabbed the box, weighing it in his hands.
Natsuo grimaced, looking over the cart piled high with their haul. “How the hell are we gonna carry all this back to your place and through the... you know... sewers?”
Dabi raised a brow, a hint of mischief flickering in his eyes. “Don’t worry about it. I noticed the bird watching from outside, perched on the next building over. That stupid pigeon’s got a feather tucked inside your coat pocket.”
Natsuo’s eyes widened in disbelief as he reached into his jacket and pulled out the tiny feather. “What the hell?!” he hissed.
Dabi growled low in his throat, his jaw tightening. “That stupid pigeon better help.”
Jess sighed, frustration flickering across her face. “For fuck’s sake... I know my family didn’t have him follow us.”
Dabi’s voice dropped even lower, laced with anger. “The commission did. Are they trying to get you taken again? Come on, Natsuo, Jess—let’s pay for all this. Must be a shock to find out flaming trash is my father, huh?”
Outside, crouched on the rooftop of a nearby building, Hawks narrowed his eyes, the city sprawling beneath him. He adjusted his position, feathers ruffling as he watched the trio below. “Well, shit...” he muttered under his breath.
Back at the League’s villa, the atmosphere was heavy—muted light filtering through torn curtains, dust suspended in the air like time itself had stalled. Tomura lay back in the old reclining chair, arms hanging limp over the sides, his fingers twitching idly as if wrestling ghosts only he could see. His red eyes stared up at the cracked ceiling, unfocused.
Mr. Compress sat nearby, unusually quiet, absently twirling a small marble in his fingers. For once, the performer’s voice lacked its usual flair. It was low. Careful. Human.
“Tomura,” he began, “when you were ordered to strip her and chain her up that first day... did something feel off to you?”
Tomura's eyes drifted toward him slowly. A beat passed. Then another. His voice came, hollow. “Yes...”
Compress didn’t speak. He let the weight of the silence fill the space between them.
Tomura exhaled shakily, shifting his gaze away. “I didn’t know why he wanted that done. He didn’t tell me. Neither did the doctor. They just gave the order and expected it followed. Like it was normal.” He paused, curling one hand slowly into a fist. “And I listened. I obeyed, because that’s what I’ve always done. Even when it felt wrong.”
Compress gave a small nod, his voice barely above a whisper now. “And the discipline... when you were told she had to endure it as punishment—for her family’s crimes against All For One. How did you feel about that?”
Tomura’s jaw clenched. He didn’t speak right away. His fingers were trembling now.
“It made sense... at first,” he muttered. “All For One said it was justice. Retribution. She was the daughter of a traitorous bloodline, the Mikcloud family tried to kill him years ago... They had to be punished… through her…” He swallowed hard, knuckles whitening. “I believed him. I had to believe him.”
“But?” Compress asked gently.
Tomura’s eyes darkened.
“But when I looked at her... when she screamed... when she cried so hard she couldn’t breathe... something cracked. Inside me. She wasn’t the monster they said. She was just... a girl. Scared. Hurt. Alone. And I—I became the thing she was most afraid of.”
His voice cracked.
“I stopped being her jailer. I became her nightmare.”
The marble in Compress’s hand stilled. He didn’t interrupt.
Tomura stared down at his hands, his voice no louder than a rasp. “And I didn’t know how to stop.”
Mr. Compress sat quietly across from him, letting the silence hang for a moment before speaking. “Tomura… when did you first cross the line with her? When it stopped being about orders and became something else?”
Tomura’s body tensed. He turned slightly on the chair, gripping the fabric of his pants. “About a month after she was brought here,” he admitted, his voice hollow. “I was… disciplining her like the doctor told me to. And during it... something shifted. I felt something I couldn’t explain. I didn’t understand it, but it was there… and it pushed me further than I should’ve gone.”
Compress’s gaze darkened, though his voice remained level. “And it didn’t stop, did it? Even after you took Toga off her shower shifts for a week? What was that about? Hiding the marks? The bruises she couldn’t explain?”
Tomura’s breathing became unsteady, the weight of it all threatening to crush him. “Y-Yeah…” he admitted, brokenly. “I didn’t know what I was doing. I was confused… but I couldn’t stop myself.”
Compress leaned forward, his voice quiet but firm. “When you told me you loved her… I believed you. That came from you, not from him. But Tomura…” he paused, eyes searching the broken young man across from him. “All For One twisted that. So did the doctor. You said it yourself—she was given to you. Like she was some… possession. And that monster wanted heirs.”
He let the words sink in before continuing, softer now. “So tell me… what does that really mean?”
Tomura didn’t answer at first. His eyes were wide, chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. The weight of the truth pressed down harder than any order All For One had ever given. For once, the constant scratching in his brain—the voice that echoed his master's will—was silent. No commands. No manipulation. Just the cold, crushing clarity of what he’d allowed to happen.
His hands trembled in his lap.
But now, he did.
The back alley was quiet, save for the shuffling of bags as the trio tried to figure out how to carry everything. Jess had bundled essentials into two reusable totes, while Natsuo balanced a box of drinks, and Dabi slung a bag full of medical supplies over his shoulder with practiced ease.
Then, with a gust of wind and a soft thud, Hawks landed in front of them—his wings folding behind his back as he bowed low.
“Princess Jess,” he said formally, his tone tight with emotion. “I’m relieved you’re okay.”
Jess’s eyes narrowed, glowing faintly. Hawks suddenly collapsed to his knees with a choked gasp.
“What the hell—?” Natsuo stepped back in alarm.
Dabi, on the other hand, smirked. “Is that another part of your quirk?”
Jess gave a curt nod, her gaze never leaving Hawks. “Hawks,” she said coldly. “Did the Commission order you to ignore my family’s demand to leave me alone until I was ready?”
Hawks groaned, his body trembling under invisible pressure. “Y-Yes…!”
The pressure increased.
“Why?” Jess’s voice dropped, filled with dangerous calm.
He gritted his teeth. “They… they wanted me to follow Dabi… to you… and—ah—kill him! Take you back—FUCK, I can’t breathe!”
His body hovered slightly above the ground, the air around him distorted under invisible force. Jess stood firm, eyes glowing brighter.
“I see,” she said quietly. “Were you really going to do it, Keigo Takami? Were you going to kill the man who literally helped me survive?”
Dabi blinked in surprise. “How the hell…?” he muttered. “Even I had to dig to find his real name…”
“I—NO!” Hawks shouted. “I couldn’t do it! I wouldn’t!”
And just like that, the crushing weight vanished. Hawks collapsed forward, coughing and gasping for air.
Natsuo gave a low whistle. “Damn… What kind of quirk was that?”
Jess’s expression softened as she helped steady Hawks. “It’s called Kinesis. A broad ability rooted in mental control of elemental and physical forces. Hydrokinesis, Telekinesis, Pyrokinesis, Geokinesis… What you just saw was Gravitokinesis—anti-gravity manipulation.”
Dabi was grinning now, clearly impressed. “That was… kind of hot.”
Jess flushed. “Are you flirting with me?”
“Yep,” Dabi replied without hesitation.
Natsuo’s and Hawks’s eyes widened at their exchange.
Natsuo groaned. “You told her already?”
Dabi shrugged casually. “We kissed last night.”
Jess gasped, blushing deeper, and lightly smacked Dabi’s arm. “Touya!”
He laughed, and for a brief moment, despite the tension with the Commission and everything they were up against, the four of them shared something close to peace.
Jess sighed, the faint glow in her eyes dimming slightly as she faced Hawks. “Alright, winged pigeon,” she said, a hint of dry humor in her voice, “you’re coming with us. Your job is to help get all this back to Touya’s place—only that.”
She crossed her arms, steady and commanding despite everything. “I’ll be contacting the embassy to report exactly what you told me. What the Commission did? That’s straight-up treason.”
Hawks swallowed hard, eyes flickering nervously. Jess continued, her voice sharper now, “Tell me, did my family give Dabi amnesty? Protection under the Celtican royal family’s law?”
Dabi’s eyes went wide, blinking at both of them. “Wait… what?”
Hawks nodded solemnly. “Yes. His criminal record will be wiped clean. Officially, anyway.”
Jess’s voice lowered, almost a whisper now, but heavy with conviction. “Then that makes this treason. Plain and simple. The Commission betrayed us—all of us. They crossed a line nobody should ever cross.”
Natsuo shook his head with a smirk. “Well, look at that, Touya. You literally got off scot-free from becoming a villain and a murderer.”
Dabi’s expression darkened, eyes narrowing as he clenched his fists. “The people I killed weren’t innocent. They were all abusers, traffickers… You name it, Natsuo. When I was 21, I saved a woman from being dragged into a van. So yeah, you’re all welcome.”
Jess’s face softened instantly, her eyes shining with gratitude and affection. Without hesitation, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him, squeezing gently. “Awww, Touya… you’re a hero to me.”
Chapter Text
The rusty clang of the old subway gate echoed through the tunnels as Natsuo and Hawks ducked beneath it, stepping out into the low-lit corridor just beyond Dabi's hidden sanctuary. With a grunt, Natsuo yanked it shut behind them, the sound reverberating like a steel exhale in the stale air.
Hawks straightened with a sigh, stretching his wings outward until the joints cracked faintly. The grimy tunnel barely offered enough space for their full span, so he folded them back with a flick and turned toward Natsuo—only to be met with a hard stare.
"You won't really try to kill Touya, would you?" Natsuo asked coldly, voice low and unmoving.
Hawks blinked. "No... I won't do it. I've already told you—I couldn't. I tried to imagine it, to go through with the Commission's order, but it'd mean my head would be on the line... and I like being alive."
Natsuo didn't flinch. "So what are you gonna tell them then? That you couldn't find where he's hiding? That he hasn't resurfaced, and you couldn't pin down his true location?"
There was a beat of silence. Hawks' golden eyes dropped to the cracked concrete beneath their boots, then lifted toward the long, dark corridor ahead.
"I'll tell them what they want to hear," he muttered. "I mean, all the top heroes were there at the embassy when the Princess first made contact—when she told us herself that she was safe... with Dabi." He shook his head, voice tight with regret. "I can't believe I was wrong this whole time. That Shigaraki had her... and no one in the Liberation dared to act. They weren't even allowed near her. No one went downstairs. Except Toga—for shower duty."
He paused, his jaw tightening. "Every time I was there... the torture stopped. It always stopped before I arrived. I think Shigaraki knew. He knew that if I had seen her—if I knew what was really happening—I would've gotten her out."
Hawks exhaled slowly, the weight of it all pressing down. "I told the Commission she was safe. That Dabi helped her escape. That he wasn't the threat in this. You'd think they'd listen, especially after the Celtican royal family granted him amnesty. But no. They still wanted him dead. And they expected me to take the Princess from the very person who saved her." He looked over at Natsuo, expression bitter. "It doesn't make sense..."
Natsuo frowned, his arms folding tightly across his chest. "At least you're not siding with them on this..." he muttered, eyes narrowing. "You're not going to tell anyone that he's alive, right? I mean—Touya... he probably wants to stay dead until he's ready to reveal himself. The only reason he even told me who he was... was because of the Princess."
Hawks looked at him, gaze steady. "No," he said quietly. "I won't tell anyone."
A pause.
Then Hawks tilted his head slightly, brows furrowing. "But why did he contact you, though? Far as I know, you're just a college student—last year, med track, right? Is that why? Because of your medical training?"
Natsuo looked away, jaw tense. "It was... Jess. She had a fever."
"But you all said she was bleeding. Cramping..." Hawks' voice dropped, softer now. Concerned. "Natsuo... what's really wrong with the Princess?"
There was a long silence. Natsuo's shoulders sank as he let out a slow breath. He raised his head and met Hawks' eyes.
"I'm not an official doctor, so patient confidentiality doesn't exactly apply here..." he murmured. "She's going through a miscarriage."
Hawks froze.
The words hit him like a blade to the gut—sharp, unexpected, and final. His wings stiffened behind him, the tips trembling ever so slightly. His golden eyes widened, the weight of Natsuo's confession sinking in faster than he could brace for. A miscarriage. That meant...
That meant everything Jess had gone through under Shigaraki's hands.. Dabi wasn't lying when Jess was forced upon.
He stared at Natsuo, momentarily speechless.
Natsuo let out a tired breath, shoving his hands into his coat pockets. "Well... later, Number Two," he said casually, almost hollow in tone. "Gotta study for tomorrow's tests."
Without waiting for a reply, he turned and walked off down the tunnel, his footsteps echoing faintly into the distance—leaving Hawks behind, rooted in place.
The pro hero didn't move. Couldn't.
His throat was dry. His thoughts raced.
Jess... a princess... just a girl... tortured, used, and now miscarrying because of it. And he had been right there. Visiting the villa. Blind to it all. Maybe if he knew he would have saved her.
His jaw clenched, fists curling at his sides.
Part of him wanted—no, burned—to go straight to the Liberation hideout and rip through it until he reached Shigaraki himself. He wanted answers. He wanted to look that bastard in the eyes and ask how he could have done something so vile... so unforgivable.
But the other part of him—the part that had watched Jess stand on her own feet, cloaked in fire and grief and dignity—knew the truth.
She had survived.
She had escaped.
And it wasn't a hero who saved her.
It was Dabi. A Villian.
_________
All the bags were put away. The bunker had returned to its usual dim calm, but now with a few small signs of warmth. The new crock pot sat neatly in the cupboard, Dabi having just finished unpacking it. He closed the door with a soft thud, dusting his hands together and glancing back toward the bed.
Jess was perched on the edge, her legs bare and toes soaking in her new black foot spa bucket. The scent of lavender filled the room, mixing gently with the steam that rose from the water. Beside her sat the unopened jars and bottles of her Lavender & Coconut Foot Soak Set—her new luxury in a place that had once been nothing but cold metal and old concrete.
Wearing black shorts and a matching tank top with her new sports bra barely visible beneath the loose fabric, Jess leaned back on her hands and let out a low hum. "This feels nice."
Dabi let out a short laugh as he made his way over, dropping down next to her on the bed. "Smells nice," he said, glancing at the assortment of purple-labeled bottles with a half-amused smirk.
Jess smiled and tilted her head toward the side table. "How long does the bottle say to soak my feet?"
He blinked, reached down to grab the bottle of soak, and squinted at the fine print. "Mmm... fifteen to twenty minutes."
She sighed contentedly, wiggling her toes under the warm water. "Guess I'll sit here and enjoy every second then."
Dabi leaned back on his palms beside her, eyes half-lidded, letting the calming scent of lavender wrap around them both like a protective blanket. The quiet hum of the foot spa filled the silence, steady and warm. For once, it felt... peaceful.
Jess shifted slightly, then leaned into his side, resting her weight against him with an almost shy ease. Dabi glanced down at her, the corner of his mouth tugging into a soft smirk at the gesture.
"How are you feeling?" he asked, his voice low, gentle.
Jess tilted her head up slightly to meet his gaze, her emerald eyes calm. "Good," she murmured. "The cramping's slowed down..."
Dabi's smirk faded into something softer, something more serious. He nodded, his gaze briefly dropping to her legs soaking in the scented water before returning to her face. "That's good. You've been through too much lately..."
She gave a small, grateful smile, her fingers lightly brushing his knee as she settled in closer. "I think my body's finally starting to calm down... just a little." Her voice was quiet, but honest.
Dabi didn't respond right away. Instead, he slid his hand across the small of her back, pulling her in a bit more—as if anchoring her to the present, to him. No questions. No pressure. Just presence.
"When are you gonna call the embassy about the commission?" he asked, his voice calm but curious.
Jess sighed, the sound soft but irritated—not at him, but at the very thought of the commission. "After my me time," she muttered, looking up at him.
Dabi looked down, their eyes meeting in a quiet, unspoken understanding. Slowly, he lifted a hand and gently cupped her cheek. Then, leaning in, his lips brushed against hers. Her eyes fluttered closed, and she let out a soft hum against his mouth, melting into the kiss.
When he pulled back, their foreheads rested gently together.
"You sure you're okay with this...?" he murmured, searching her expression.
Jess nodded slightly, her voice firm but tender. "Touya... I know you're not him. I know you'd never hurt me. If I didn't want this—I would've told you no."
A breath of a laugh escaped him, warm and low. He kissed her forehead, lips lingering for just a second. "Stop being so goddamn cute," he muttered. "What do you want for dinner?"
Jess giggled, the sound light for the first time in a while. "I want a nice, juicy hamburger. God, I miss McDonald's..."
Dabi chuckled and stood up, stretching a little. "That doesn't sound bad actually. I'd have to cut mine into pieces though—because of the staples."
Jess frowned, her gaze trailing after him. "It's amazing you've kept yourself held together..." she whispered.
Dabi paused at the cupboard, glancing back at her with a quiet smirk that didn't quite reach his eyes.
The next day at the Hero Commission Headquarters, tension hung thick in the air.
The Madam President scowled, glaring at her desk phone as yet another voicemail failed to connect with Hawks. With a frustrated growl, she slammed the receiver down.
"Why hasn't Hawks been answering?!" she barked. "He was supposed to complete the mission and deliver that Princess safely—out of that villain Dabi's hands!"
The surrounding agents remained frozen, unsure how to respond. Hawks had been MIA since the day prior, and none of them had a clue where he'd gone.
The President stormed toward the large window of her office, gazing over the distant skyline, jaw clenched in anger. Where the hell is he?
Suddenly, a blinding flash of light erupted in front of the building. The massive window before her exploded inward with a roar of solar fire, blasting her across the room. Agents were thrown back in a wave of heat and shock, scattering like rag dolls.
As the smoke cleared, a figure hovered in the scorched opening, surrounded by swirling waves of flame.
"Madam President," a powerful voice called out, "you have committed treason against the Imperial Royal Family... and the Mikcloud Royal Family. And I am here to deliver judgment."
The President groaned, lifting her head in disbelief. Her eyes widened in horror as the solar inferno took shape—standing there in radiant fury was Dawn Mikcloud Kuran, the First Crowned Princess of Celtica.
Her body pulsed with living solar fire, eyes glowing like dying stars. She descended slowly, her flaming feet touching the ground without a sound, the fire coiling back to reveal her regal form—hair like molten rubies, eyes like polished emeralds.
Dawn's voice was calm, yet thunderous with restrained wrath.
"Unless you can give me one damn good reason," Dawn said coldly, her emerald eyes glowing with fury, "why you signed off on an execution order for the man who rescued my daughter from that hellhole—and tried to take her from the only person who got her out safely—I suggest you choose your next words very carefully. Because I've been itching to let out all this anger, and trust me, it was either you or me marching into Tartarus to kill All For One. So tell me, Madam President... or I will show you exactly how I earned the nickname 'The Princess of Destruction.'"
The President's breath caught in her throat as she struggled to stand, brushing soot from her suit. Around her, the scorched agents groaned and pushed themselves up from the floor—only to freeze when they fully saw who stood before them.
Princess Dawn Mikcloud Kuran, cloaked in flame and divine fury.
The President's eyes darted between the agents and the burning woman in red. Her jaw clenched, mind racing. Hawks... did he betray us? Did he talk?! That traitor...
"I have no idea what you're talking about, Princess Dawn," she said stiffly, straightening her blazer despite the burn marks. "This is an act of war. Do you realize that?!"
Dawn's gaze sharpened like a blade. "Keigo Takami already told us everything," she stated. "He's no longer under your thumb. You don't own him—or the hero Hawks—anymore."
Her voice dropped an octave, rich with finality.
"This is your last warning, Madam."
Madam President bit her lip as the thunderous sound of engines roared overhead. Moments later, several Celtican Royal Guards dropped into the room from above—dispatched from a sleek Quinjet hovering just out of view. They landed with precision, each clad in ceremonial black and gold armor, leveling sleek Luminite-forged weapons directly at the commission agents. The glow from the weapons cast an ominous shimmer across the room.
"Because Dabi is a villain!" the Madam spat, trying to keep her voice steady under pressure. "He has thirty confirmed kills—innocent people! Civilians! Even a few pro heroes! You may think he's keeping her safe, but you're all fools for giving that man a free pass!"
Dawn's heels clicked against the scorched marble as she stepped forward, slow and deliberate. Her presence radiated controlled fury—each step humming with the crackle of restrained solar fire.
"So," Dawn said in a low, measured tone, stopping just a few feet from the cowering woman, "you thought it was acceptable to send Hawks to eliminate him? The man who risked everything to get my daughter out of that hellhole alive?"
Her emerald eyes narrowed, voice dropping into a frigid calm despite the rolling solar heat radiating off her body. "Is that your idea of justice? Let me educate you on something. All those so-called 'innocent' victims you claim he killed? They weren't innocent at all. Every single one of them was either an abuser, a drug trafficker, a kidnapper, or a slaver."
She stepped forward, her heels echoing ominously on the scorched marble as agents around the room slowly began to rise, stunned silent.
"Dabi even told me last night on the phone," Dawn continued coldly, "about the time he saved a woman from being dragged into a van in one of the worst parts of the city. And those so-called heroes you mourn?" Her eyes gleamed with wrath. "They were wife-beaters, child abusers, monsters in hero costumes that you protected. Including Enji Todoroki."
The Madam President's eyes widened in disbelief and horror. How does she know this? Panic flickered across her face.
But Dawn merely smirked, her expression laced with quiet danger.
"Oh, don't look so surprised," she said with venom-laced sweetness. "Avatora has been hacking your entire system since last night. You really should upgrade your security protocols—because what we uncovered buried deep in your classified files?" Her smile curved into something sharper. "Let's just say it's enough to bring your entire little empire crashing down."
She let the silence settle for a moment, then exhaled, irritated.
"I don't want to hear any more of your pathetic excuses."
With a commanding turn, Dawn looked to the nearest guards. "Arrest them all. Hit them with Luminite darts."
The royal soldiers didn't hesitate. They moved swiftly, weapons already raised, as the Madam President scrambled back, fear finally eclipsing arrogance.
Dawn's burning gaze returned to her. "The entire Hero Commission building is now under Celtican control. And don't worry—this will be made public. Though," she added, her voice cooling into businesslike precision, "the backgrounds of the most corrupted pro-heroes will be handled behind closed doors."
Her eyes narrowed. "You signed Hawks to kill Dabi—my daughter's protector. That betrayal will remain hidden until we're ready to reintroduce him to the world as the man who saved the Second Crowned Princess."
She turned to the guards again. "Take her, and the rest of these traitors, into custody."
A guard stepped forward and bowed slightly. "Yes, Your Highness. Sir Frank is also present. He's downstairs in the labs, uncovering the hidden training facilities and containment cells."
Dawn raised a brow. "Anything of interest?"
The soldier's jaw tightened. "They found several children, Your Highness—young, unregistered, and being trained under the Commission's so-called 'Hero Development Program.' From what we've seen... it was more like weaponization."
Dawn's expression darkened into something lethal. The solar flare around her hair pulsed hotter, as if her fury itself could ignite the world.
"Bring every last one of them to safety. Have Sir Frank prepare medical and psychological intervention. Anyone who resists—dart them."
"Yes, Your Highness."
Dawn watched as the agents were dragged away, her stance never wavering.
The news had spread fast.
Hawks stood in his agency office, arms loosely crossed, staring at the large screen mounted on the far wall. The live broadcast replayed footage of the Hero Commission's seizure, the blazing solar flare that had shattered the President's office window, and the unmistakable arrival of Celtican forces.
He wasn't sure why, but a strange sense of peace had washed over him—relief, maybe. The Commission could no longer discipline him for "failing" his mission. There was no mission anymore. No shadow to hide in. No more guilt.
He didn't even notice the quiet presence beside him until a voice spoke up.
"Penny for your thoughts, Keigo?"
Hawks startled. His eyes widened as he whipped around with a sharp gasp, wings flaring instinctively in surprise. The startled squawk he made sounded more bird than man, and it earned a light laugh from the woman standing calmly beside him.
River Dovahkiin.
The Second Grand Knight of Celtica. The Dragon Knight. The ninja assassin.
And true to her nickname, he hadn't sensed a single step of her arrival.
"L-Lady River," Hawks stammered, catching his breath. "How did you—?"
He trailed off as his golden eyes took in her appearance. She stood with that effortless grace only warriors with complete mastery possessed, her shimmering blue hair cascading like liquid silk around her shoulders. Her cyan dragon-like eyes studied him with quiet amusement, and the faint shimmer of her scales caught the light like a whisper of magic.
Oh yeah. That's why they call her the ninja.
God, she was gorgeous.
River smirked slightly, folding her arms.
"You looked like you were stuck in your head," she said simply, glancing back at the news footage. "Didn't want to interrupt the brooding. It was... dramatic."
Hawks blinked at her, slowly easing his feathers down. "You scared the hell out of me..."
"Huh, did I know?" River teased with a smirk. "I thought your feathers could sense everything."
Hawks flushed slightly, rubbing the back of his neck as he let out a soft laugh. "Normally, yeah... But I guess even they weren't prepared for you." His wings twitched lightly, still not fully relaxed from the surprise. "So, to what do I owe the pleasure of a personal visit from the Dragon Knight herself?"
River's expression shifted, the playful glint in her eyes softening into something more serious. She stepped closer, her boots barely making a sound against the sleek tile floor. In one hand, she held a sealed folder marked with the crest of the royal family—elegant, gold-etched, unmistakable.
"His Majesty, the Duke of Celtica—James Mikcloud Kuran—has a mission for you," she said evenly, offering him the folder. "You're to confront Tomura Shigaraki directly. Convince him to turn himself in."
Hawks blinked, brows furrowing slightly. "You want me to—?"
"If he refuses," River continued, voice cool and unwavering, "the entire Royal Guard—including myself and Sir Frank—will be at the Liberation's front gate within the week. No more waiting. No more diplomacy."
She let that sink in before adding, "He has one week."
Hawks looked down at the folder now in his hands, the weight of it heavier than its size would suggest. "That's... a hell of an order."
River nodded slowly. "We know not all of his actions were fully his own. The minds of the corrupted are tangled, but not beyond comprehension. Toga has vouched for him. Said All For One manipulated his thoughts. That there's still something human left."
She folded her arms again, her voice low. "If that's true, then this is his last chance to prove it."
Hawks stared at the folder in his hands, golden eyes narrowing slightly as he absorbed the weight behind River's words. Finally, he gave a quiet exhale and nodded.
"I see..." he murmured. "Alright. I'll do it."
River's lips curled into a small, satisfied smile. "Good," she said, turning slightly on her heel. "And maybe after this is all done, I'll treat you to dumplings and sake."
Hawks blinked, caught off guard. "Sake?"
She winked over her shoulder. "What? A bit of celebration after saving Japan doesn't sound so bad, does it?"
A grin tugged at Hawks' lips. "Sure! It's been a while since I had dumplings... or a good shot of sake."
River gave a low chuckle, already backing away. "Until next time, Keigo."
And just like that, she vanished in a puff of smoke—silent, graceful, and gone without a trace. A proper ninja exit.
Left standing alone in his office, Hawks lowered the folder slowly, staring at the empty space where she had stood just seconds before. His heart thudded hard in his chest, wings twitching again from the residual adrenaline.
"...Wow," he murmured under his breath, lips curling into a sheepish grin. "What a woman."
The Todoroki household was unusually tense—more so than usual.
Shoto sat quietly at the low dining table in the family room, the familiar scent of hot pot simmering in the background. He didn't want to be here, not tonight—not without Izuku, and especially not under his father's watchful glare. But Fuyumi had insisted. Again.
He shifted in his seat, glancing toward the muted television where news of the Hero Commission's takedown still blared across the screen.
Natsuo dropped himself unceremoniously to the floor beside Shoto with a groan. "I'm here. Happy?" he muttered, rolling his eyes. "I should be at home studying, you know... for fuck's sake..."
Shoto offered a small, warm smile. "Hello, Nii-san."
Natsuo grinned. "Hey there, little brother! How's school treating you?"
"Very good," Shoto replied, keeping his tone polite.
On the other side of the table, Enji sat in stiff silence, legs folded beneath him as he glared at the screen. His massive hands were clenched into fists, the tendons in his arms tight with restrained emotion. The Commission scandal was still on every news network—its fall, its crimes, the Celtican royals taking over the building. It was chaos... but a chaos Enji couldn't control.
Natsuo followed his father's stare and scoffed. "Oh, that," he said, jerking his chin toward the screen. "Yeah, it's been everywhere. Such a disgrace, huh, old man?"
Enji's eyes shifted slowly toward him, narrowing with heat. "Yes," he growled.
At that moment, Fuyumi entered with a tray holding a steaming pot of food. "Alright! Let's dig in!"
Shoto frowned, poking at the ingredients. "I wanted soba..."
Natsuo chuckled as he reached for a bowl. "You know, you and Touya both liked soba."
Shoto blinked, genuinely surprised. "Wait... really? I never knew that..." He looked down at his bowl, eyes thoughtful. "You think if he were still alive... we could've had a bowl together?"
Natsuo's grin softened. "Totally."
Fuyumi's smile faltered, her voice quieter. "Yeah..."
Enji's teeth ground together. He looked up, face dark. "Stop talking about Touya."
The room went still for a moment. The steam from the pot curled in the air like smoke, rising between them—thick and tense.
Natsuo's expression darkened, eyes narrowing sharply. "Why do you always act like it's a curse to talk about him? Why?!" he shouted, voice echoing through the room like a strike of thunder.
Fuyumi flinched, visibly uneasy. "Natsuo... please... don't start a fight..."
But Natsuo was already on his feet, fists clenched at his sides. "I asked the old man a question. Well? Answer it! Why can't we talk about Touya like he wasn't our brother?!"
Enji's brows furrowed deeply, lips curling into a frown. His jaw twitched, annoyed, clearly about to snap a response—but before he could speak, the doorbell rang.
The sharp chime cut through the tension.
Fuyumi released a shaky breath and stood. "Sit down, Natsuo... I'll get it."
She walked out of the room quickly, thankful for the interruption, while Natsuo continued to glare at their father—waiting, burning.
Within minutes, Fuyumi stepped back into the room, her expression pale and worried.
"F-Father..." she said shakily, "Princess Dawn is here..."
Both Natsuo and Shoto froze, eyes widening in shock.
Before anyone could speak, Dawn Mikcloud Kuran—the 1st Crowned Princess of Celtica—stepped gracefully into the room. Barefooted, in respect of Japanese tradition, her presence alone shifted the air. It was like the sun had entered the house... and it was burning cold.
Enji looked up from the table, the color draining from his face. His body tensed.
The moment their eyes met, he knew.
Dawn's emerald gaze bored into him like spears of light, unreadable but intense. And then she smiled—calmly, coldly, powerfully.
"Enji Todoroki," she began, her voice smooth and clear, yet heavy with authority. "Pro Hero Endeavor. You are hereby suspended from hero duty until further investigation regarding allegations of abuse toward your family, and your illegal quirk marriage to Rei Todoroki, née Himura."
A stunned silence followed her words. Shoto's breath caught. Natsuo sat rigid, unable to believe what he was hearing. Enji... was being held accountable?
Enji's lips parted, stunned. "W-What...?"
But Dawn stepped further into the room, hands folded calmly before her. "You heard me. The royal decree has already been filed under the authority of the Imperial Japanese and the Celtican Royal Family. Your actions will no longer be buried. Not by your title, not by your rank, and certainly not by fear."
Her voice carried with it the weight of generations—of royal power, of justice too long denied.
Enji stared at her, fury rising in his eyes as his fists clenched tightly at his sides. He stood abruptly, the tension crackling in the room.
"These are lies!" he snapped. "I did no such thing to—"
"Shut the hell up."
The words cut like a blade.
Everyone froze. Natsuo and Fuyumi's eyes widened in disbelief as they turned toward the source.
It was Shoto.
Still seated, still calm, but his eyes—icy and unwavering—were locked on his father.
Enji's jaw tightened. "What did you just say to me...?"
Shoto slowly looked up, his voice sharper this time. "I said shut the hell up." His expression didn't waver as he turned to face Princess Dawn. "It's true. Every single thing. Everything they've said about him—it's all true."
"Shoto!" Fuyumi gasped, her hands covering her mouth.
Natsuo was stunned for a moment, but then a slow, bitter smirk tugged at his lips. "Well, damn. Took you long enough to say it out loud, little brother. I'll back you up. And I know Mom would too." He paused, brow furrowing slightly. "But I never knew their marriage was illegal...?"
Dawn's gaze softened only slightly as she exhaled and addressed them. "I contacted your uncle—your mother's brother. Rikuto Himura. He confirmed it. Said he begged Rei not to go through with it, but she cut off contact. He only recently discovered she was placed in a mental hospital under questionable conditions."
She stepped closer, eyes now flickering with something deeper, more personal. "Did you know... your first cousin Geten is a member of the Liberation Front?"
Fuyumi's breath caught. "Geten...?! I... We haven't seen him since..." Her voice trailed. "Since Touya was still alive... Mom was pregnant with Shoto..."
The room fell into stunned silence again, the weight of secrets and generational wounds crashing down like thunder.
Enji growled, his fists clenched tightly. "You can't suspend me! I'm the Number One Pro Hero! I have a job—people need me!"
Dawn met his outburst with cool composure, her emerald eyes unyielding. "That is no longer your job as of now," she stated firmly. "Your sidekicks can handle the patrols and fieldwork. From this moment on, you are officially restricted to desk duty only. You are to turn in your hero suit, and you will be fitted with a Luminite ankle monitor."
Natsuo let out a low whistle, clearly enjoying every second. "Wow... treated like a criminal. This is the best day ever," he grinned, rising from the floor. "If only Touya could see this." He pulled out his phone. "Excuse me while I go make a very satisfying call."
Fuyumi stood frozen in place, visibly shaken, while Shoto calmly ladled broth into his bowl. He didn't look up as he spoke. "Funny how things turned out... isn't it, Father?"
Enji's jaw tensed. His glare shifted toward Shoto, eyes burning with rage. His hand twitched—ready to strike.
But before he could so much as move, Dawn snapped her fingers.
The air changed immediately as Sir Frank stepped into the room. Enji froze, recognizing him instantly. He knew better than to challenge the First Grand Knight of Celtica.
Frank approached silently, dressed immaculately in his uniform, his expression unreadable. In his gloved hand, he held the sleek, high-tech Luminite ankle monitor.
"Sit down," Frank commanded, his voice low and dangerous. "And present your ankle, Enji. I will be the one to put this on."
Back in the cozy quiet of Dabi's hideout, the scent of grilled burgers still lingered faintly in the air. After their surprisingly amazing dinner—one that reminded Jess just how much she missed fast food—the two of them were now cuddled together beside the kotatsu table, wrapped in a rare, serene bubble of comfort.
Jess had been completely caught off guard earlier when Dabi returned carrying a brand-new 24-inch Roku flat-screen TV under his arm. Her eyes had widened with disbelief the moment he set it down and started hooking it up. "Where the hell did you get that?" she'd asked, completely baffled.
Dabi had only smirked and shrugged like it was nothing. "Natsuo gave me his family account card," he said smugly, flashing the card like a badge of honor. "Didn't say I couldn't use it for essentials."
Jess had rolled her eyes and laughed, but what surprised her even more was how well the TV worked down here. Turns out, the old man who used to live in the bunker had installed military-grade internet—an absurdly fast and secure network still running strong. Best of all, it was free. Dabi had changed the password to something simple but personal: BlueFlames101.
Now, nestled under a blanket with her head resting on his shoulder, they were both completely absorbed in Stranger Things—season one. Jess couldn't stop watching, and Dabi was hooked by episode three, grumbling in frustration every time an episode ended on a cliffhanger.
Just as things were getting intense on-screen, Dabi's phone buzzed loudly on the kotatsu.
"Ugh..." he groaned, reluctantly picking it up and squinting at the screen. "It's Natsuo."
He slid his thumb across the screen and answered flatly, "What?"
Natsuo's voice came through the other end, breathless and excited.
"Touya-nii, you won't believe what just happened!"
Dabi blinked at the sudden burst of excitement through the phone and sat up slightly, nudging Jess with his elbow as he pressed the device closer to his ear.
"What the hell happened?" he asked, voice still gravelly from the comfort of their cuddle. "You sound like a kid who just got told school's canceled."
On the other end, Natsuo didn't hold back.
"Father just got suspended from hero work—for long-term abuse against our family and for having an illegal quirk marriage with Mom. I'm talking full-on stripped of his title. He's on desk duty now. He had to turn in his hero outfit! And get this—he's wearing a Luminite ankle monitor. Frank himself slapped it on."
There was a beat of silence.
Then came the laugh.
Dabi exploded into laughter so loud it echoed off the concrete walls, his head falling back as he practically wheezed. Jess jolted at the sudden sound, eyes wide, then smiled softly when she saw the rare, unrestrained amusement etched on his face.
"I—No, wait—" he gasped, clutching his side. "You're serious?! That flaming pile of shit is under house arrest?! With a damn quirk blocker and an ankle monitor?!"
Jess snorted, pausing the TV as Dabi nearly doubled over. She hadn't seen him this unguarded in... ever. And honestly? It was kind of cute.
"Oh my god, you should've seen his face!" Natsuo continued gleefully. "Dawn came in like the goddess of vengeance and tore him to shreds right in front of us. Fuyumi looked like she saw a ghost. He tried to act like the big hero, and Shoto—Shoto told him to shut the hell up. And then he confessed to everything."
That only made Dabi laugh harder. His laughter cracked through the air, raw and genuine.
Jess leaned her head against his shoulder, lips curled up. "Okay, okay, I need context now. What's so funny?"
Still catching his breath, Dabi grinned. "Jess... you're not gonna believe this. My asshole father got suspended in front of everyone. Your mom came in like divine judgment, slapped him down, and put a quirk monitor on his leg. I didn't even need to be there to enjoy it—just imagining his face is chef's kiss."
Jess raised an eyebrow. "Sounds like my mom, alright. That's actually kind of perfect."
Still chuckling, Dabi turned back to the phone. "Hey, Natsuo? You're the real MVP for that call. You just made my whole damn year."
Natsuo laughed.
"Thought you'd enjoy that. Anyway, I'll leave you to your cozy little criminal love nest. Later, Touya."
Dabi hung up and tossed the phone down with a satisfied smirk.
Jess had already unpaused the show but gave him a sly glance. "Feel better now?"
Dabi leaned over, kissed her cheek, and murmured, "Best damn day of my life."
Chapter Text
Chapter 10
October 30th
The afternoon sun filtered in through the dust-caked windows of the Liberation Front's hideout, casting fractured shadows across the worn floors and faded walls. The villa, once a pristine estate long before the war began, now pulsed with a strange quiet—uneasy, expectant.
The heavy creak of the front door echoed down the corridor.
Keigo Takami—Hawks—stepped inside, his boots landing softly on the cracked marble tile. His wings were folded tightly against his back, posture unreadable, sunglasses slightly lowered as golden eyes scanned the room.
In the heart of the main hall, the core members of the Liberation Front were gathered around a sunken lounge space. A flat-screen flickered quietly in the background. Twice was tangled up on the couch, his legs crossed like a pretzel, gripping a gaming controller with wild hands. Spinner leaned casually against a pillar, arms crossed, gaze flicking to the newcomer. Compress sat with elegance in one of the armchairs, legs crossed, mask partially off. Geten stood off to the side with a mug of something steaming in hand, his pale eyes narrowed in quiet calculation. Skeptic and Trumpet were in the back, reviewing something on a tablet, but they too looked up.
Re-Destro, in his sleek black wheelchair, lifted his eyes from a leather-bound book and smiled in that unsettling, calculated way of his.
“Well, well,” he said smoothly. “If it isn’t Japan’s former Number Two. Hawks—it’s been a while.”
The greeting was casual, but the atmosphere was anything but.
Hawks didn’t waste time. His voice was low and direct, slicing through the room like a blade. “Where is Shigaraki?”
For a moment, no one answered.
Then—
“STUPID MARIO KART!” Twice screamed, flailing as a blue shell on screen wrecked his character at the finish line. He tossed the controller onto his lap, cradling his head in despair. “I love it! I hate it! It’s a betrayal wrapped in pixels!”
Compress gave an amused sigh, rubbing his temple. “Ignore him. He’s in one of his moods again.”
He turned his attention back to Hawks. “Tomura’s in his room. Grounded.”
“Grounded?” Hawks echoed, brow raising.
Spinner nodded, stepping forward. “He’s been... unstable. Compress has been giving him therapy sessions. Trying to help him center his thoughts. He’s not allowed to leave his room unless supervised.”
“Geten kicked the doctor out three days ago,” Skeptic added from the side, voice dry and bitter. “Told him he wasn’t welcome anymore.”
“He almost caused another ice age,” Twice added, now hugging a pillow. “Did you know he froze the entire north hallway? Dude was awesome. Terrifying—but awesome.”
“We emptied out recent room,” Trumpet muttered, running a hand down his face. “It used to be disgusting. Filthy. Like... a nest. He wanted to act like a child, so now he gets treated like one.”
Hawks remained silent for a beat, his jaw tightening.
They were treating him like a child. Because he was acting like one.
Because somewhere deep down, Tomura Shigaraki had broken.
Hawks’ wings gave a slight twitch, just enough to stretch out tension.
“I didn’t come here for pleasantries or banter,” he said, his tone low, almost dangerous. “I came because I know Princess Jess was here. And I know what she suffered.”
That got their attention.
Every member of the Liberation Front went still.
The mention of her name struck like a thunderclap.
“Toga told everyone what happened to her,” Hawks continued, his voice steady now, but edged with restrained fury. “I picked her up when she wanted to leave. Took her to U.A. She said she left you all a note. She told me—and the Celtican Royal Family—everything. About the confinement. The abuse. About how no one was allowed near her room except her. How every time I visited, everything stopped… because Shigaraki knew if I found out, I would’ve gotten her out. I would’ve taken her back.
It was Dabi who confirmed that Shigaraki was the one forcing himself on her.”
No one interrupted.
The room shifted—like the air had thickened, heavy with unspoken guilt.
Re-Destro calmly closed his book and set it down. He steepled his fingers under his chin, eyes unreadable.
“We were unaware of the full extent,” he said, voice low. “Tomura… withheld more than we realized. We’re handling it now.”
“Handling it?” Hawks echoed, taking a step forward, voice rising just slightly. “Do you even realize what almost happened to her? What did happen?”
Geten’s mouth twitched. “We are not excusing it,” he said coldly. “We’re acknowledging it—and making damn sure it never happens again.”
“She was treated like an object,” Hawks snapped. “Something to be claimed. Bred. Used. She’s not a trophy. She’s not a message. She is the daughter of Princess Dawn Mikcloud Kuran and Duke James Mikcloud Kuran. And you're lucky it was Dabi who got her out—not her mother. If Dawn had stormed this place, it would've been leveled.”
Twice swallowed hard and looked away.
Spinner shifted uncomfortably. “We’re not defending what he did. None of us knew the full extent. He locked her away. Wouldn’t even let us talk to her.”
Mr. Compress nodded grimly. “We should’ve seen the signs.”
Silence settled between them, weighted and raw.
Hawks finally exhaled and lowered his wings. “I’m not here to destroy what you’ve built,” he said flatly. “But Tomura has one week. One week to come forward. To face what he did. To take responsibility. If he doesn’t—if he hides from this—the Celtican Royal Guard will be at your doorstep. Sir Frank. Lady River. And the full wrath of a royal family whose daughter barely survived this.”
The tension was razor-sharp now.
Hawks looked around the room. “Did any of you really expect Dabi to walk away after what he found?”
Skeptic slowly nodded. “I saw everything on the video feeds… but I deleted them all. Toga threatened to kill me if I didn’t. She wasn’t bluffing.” He looked up. “How… how is she?”
“She’s better,” Hawks replied softly. “She feels safe with Dabi. She’s recovering.”
Geten glanced away, his jaw tight.
“And Toga?” Compress asked.
“She’s doing fine. She’s in general studies at U.A. now—part of Class 1-A, but only for general academics. She’s rooming with one of the girls.”
There was another pause.
Then, Hawks added, voice lowering further, “I need you to bring Shigaraki down here. I need to speak to him directly.” His golden eyes darkened. “Because Jess… she’s suffering through a miscarriage.”
The silence that followed Hawks’ final words was suffocating.
Shock cracked through the room like thunder.
Twice’s mouth fell open, the words stuck somewhere between his throat and his heart. He clutched the pillow tighter against his chest, suddenly pale beneath his usual animated demeanor.
Spinner’s arms slowly uncrossed as his posture slouched, the weight of what had just been said settling into his bones. “She… she was pregnant?” he asked, barely above a whisper.
Geten visibly flinched. His fingers clenched around the ceramic mug until it cracked in his grasp, a sharp fracture splitting down the side.
Mr. Compress leaned forward in his seat, his gloved hand steepling under his chin once again—but this time, his usual calm was gone. “A miscarriage…?” he echoed, as if trying to make sense of the impossible. “Dear gods…”
Trumpet looked shaken, for once without a single political retort. He sat back in his chair, mouth drawn in a thin line, guilt etched into the creases of his face.
Even Re-Destro’s expression faltered. The carefully measured mask cracked at the edges, a flicker of remorse crossing his eyes. “And none of us knew,” he said quietly, more to himself than anyone else. “We failed to see it all.”
Hawks didn’t move. He let their silence stretch, let the guilt fester where it needed to. His eyes didn’t hold contempt—but they didn’t offer comfort, either. Just truth. Just weight.
“She didn’t even know,” he said after a long beat, his voice low, tired. “Dabi was with her through it all, and he’s still properly going through it… Dabi called a friend who’s studying to be a doctor… Dabi’s friend was the one to tell me about her miscarriage.”
Geten bit his lip and stood up, pacing. His boots echoed sharply against the floor like distant thunder. “Damn it… damn it, damn it… I—I was always afraid something bad was happening… but he wouldn’t let us near her. He said it was none of our business… that it was all All For One’s word, which is law…”
“Tomura wasn’t even using protection?!” Spinner muttered bitterly. “Fuck, this is insane…”
Skeptic buried his face in one hand. “This… this could bring the entire organization to its knees if it becomes public. You think it’ll break him? That not just her—but him—lost his unborn child…?”
Hawks looked around at them all, his voice low and grave. “She’s allergic to Luminite. That was probably the cause. Her body was under too much stress… Dabi melted the bands off. Luminite bands. He melted that crystal-like metal that’s supposed to block quirks. The Royal Family believes the bands were prototypes. Do any of you know where that doctor got them?”
Geten continued pacing, his movements stiff with frustration. “I never liked him. He came in under All For One’s orders. Always worked in secrecy. Didn’t answer to any of us—not even Shigaraki directly, not after a while. Just… acted like he had permission from someone higher.”
Skeptic finally lowered the tablet he’d been holding, jaw clenched. “I ran background checks on him more than once. Most of his records were scrubbed. Burned. He’s the one who created the Nomus, you know that… but I have no idea how he got those bands.”
Hawks narrowed his eyes. “So no one knows where he got the Luminite bands?”
“No,” Geten said firmly. “And I’d love to know how he got his hands on them. They weren’t even released yet, right?”
Hawks’ fists clenched at his sides. “And you just… let him?”
“We didn’t know what he was doing!” Spinner suddenly shouted, his voice cracking. “None of us were allowed near her! Only Toga—for shower duty! We weren’t even allowed in the same hallway. It was all Tomura and that damn doctor. No one else!”
Twice looked pale, like he might be sick. “I thought she was just… being isolated. Like me. Like how Shigaraki gets when he spirals. But this… this is different. This is wrong.”
Hawks’ voice dropped lower, laced with fury. “That’s why I’m here. Shigaraki has one week to own up to it. Because this? This is unforgivable. A miscarriage… caused by torture and being forced upon…”
He turned sharply.
“Enough. Compress—go get Tomura. Now.”
The rare October frost kissed the streets in a thin shimmer of silver, the air sharp with cold as dusk began to roll in. Their breath formed soft clouds in the chilly air as Dabi and Jess walked side by side, bundled tightly against the sudden drop in temperature. Jess wore a thick black coat with a deep hood trimmed in faux fur, her fingers snugly entwined with Dabi’s gloved hand.
She let out a small breath, watching the puff of condensation float away as she asked, “Where are we going again?”
Dabi glanced over at her, the faintest smile curling beneath his mask. His dark sunglasses and the face covering did well to conceal the burn scars, allowing him to blend in better, but Jess could still read his expression through his body language. There was something lighter in his posture tonight—something relaxed.
“An underground doctor I know,” he replied. “Someone I trust to check you over. If she hadn’t been out of the country during your miscarriage… I would’ve taken you to her right away instead of calling Natsuo.”
Jess let out a low chuckle, nudging him lightly with her shoulder. “You’re glad you called Natsuo. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have found out what happened to Enji.”
Dabi’s grin widened behind the mask. “Best. Night. Ever.”
Jess shook her head, amused by his petty glee, but her smile was genuine. The cold air made her cheeks rosy, her breath visible with every word. The streets they traveled weren’t crowded—quiet alleys and side roads beneath the city that led to places most civilians didn’t know existed. Dabi’s gloved thumb gently brushed the back of her hand as they turned down a flight of cement steps behind an abandoned dry cleaner’s shop.
She could feel the heat radiating slightly off him despite the weather, his body temperature always just a bit warmer than hers. Even now, even in winter air, he carried that low-burning core of fire in his blood. And he never let go of her hand.
“Are you sure this doctor’s legit?” Jess asked lightly, arching a brow.
“She’s not just legit,” Dabi said. “She’s the best in the underground. Her name’s Vi. Dr. Viola Omi. She runs one of the most high-tech hospitals you’ve never heard of. Not some dingy back alley clinic—this place is cleaner than most national ones. Everything from AI monitoring to sterilized operating rooms.”
“And you met her how, exactly?” Jess smirked.
He snorted. “Cracked a rib and punctured a lung when I was twenty-one. Some dumb fight in the middle of nowhere. One of her nurses found me before I could bleed out. Took me there. Vi patched me up like I was some VIP. No judgment, no questions. Just... saved me.”
Jess looked at him, softer now. “She sounds amazing.”
“She is,” he said simply. “You’ll like her.”
They stopped in front of an old steel door hidden beneath rusted pipes and a graffiti-covered wall. Dabi reached out, typed a series of numbers into a digital pad nearly invisible in the dim light, and waited. A mechanical hiss followed, and the door began to slide open with a smooth hum, revealing a pristine white hallway lit by soft blue LED strips. The air inside was warm, sterile, and nothing like what Jess expected from a so-called “underground” hospital.
Dabi squeezed her hand gently. “C’mon. Let’s get you checked.”
The glass doors hissed open with a smooth hydraulic whisper as Dabi and Jess stepped inside, the bitter October frost chased away by the rush of warm, sterilized air. The interior of the underground hospital gleamed—sleek, immaculate, and far too advanced for a place hidden from the public eye. Sky-blue walls reflected soft ceiling lights, while massive floor-to-ceiling windows framed what appeared to be a bright sky above. Jess blinked, then realized it wasn’t real.
“Projections?” she whispered, watching the faint shimmer shift in the upper corners of the glass.
Dabi nodded, his sunglasses catching the faint reflection of the artificial sky. “Military-grade. They can simulate everything from daytime clouds to full Night time, even sometimes a Galaxy backdrop.”
Jess whistled under her breath. “This place is... gorgeous.”
The front desk curved like a futuristic crescent, polished white with a soft glow at the base. Behind it, a receptionist—dark lipstick, stylish cropped blazer, and piercing eyes sharper than any scalpel—looked up from her screen. She paused, her gaze locking onto Dabi, and her lips curved into a knowing smirk.
“Well, well,” she drawled. “Last time you were here, your metal jaw popped right out of the socket. Dr. Vi had to call in a bone regeneration expert just to rebuild your lower face. And your ribs from that first visit? Still holding up?”
Jess blinked. Jaw? Just how often had Dabi ended up here?
Dabi gave a low chuckle behind his black mask, lifting his chin just slightly. “All healed,” he said smoothly. “No thanks to that idiot I got into it with back then. I’m here with my girlfriend now. Vi is seeing her.” He gestured to Jess with his thumb.
Jess’s cheeks flushed. “You didn’t even ask me,” she mumbled.
Dabi turned toward her, that signature smirk tugging at his lips—even if she couldn’t see it behind the mask. “I didn’t think I had to ask you to be my girlfriend,” he said casually.
Jess pouted, nudging his arm, but a smile curled at the corner of her mouth. “Smooth bastard,” she muttered under her breath.
The receptionist raised a perfectly plucked brow, clearly amused. “So the infamous Blue flame finally has a woman?” she drawled, her voice laced with dark humor. “Considering how fucked your body is, I’m honestly surprised…”
The comment drew a few reactions from nearby. A couple of rugged-looking villains and heavily scarred underground enforcers turned their heads. Some wore expressions of vague curiosity. Others simply nodded in subtle recognition. Dabi was known here—very well known.
Unfazed, the receptionist started typing swiftly across her glowing tablet. “Name?”
“It’s under me,” Dabi answered coolly. “But it’s for her. Privacy and protection. Vi’s personal nurse already cleared it.”
The receptionist gave a knowing nod and tapped a few more keys. “Makes sense. You were always one of Vi’s more… colorful cases.” Her gaze shifted to Jess now, expression softening just slightly. “We’ll take good care of her.”
Jess blinked, unsure whether to feel flattered or alarmed. “Thanks… I think.”
Dabi leaned in and whispered near her ear, voice low and steady. “You’re gonna be fine. Vi’s the best. I normally hate doctors and hospitals, but she’s the only one I trust—well, besides Natsuo, and he’s still a med student.” He nudged her gently. “If anyone can make sure everything’s alright… it’s her.”
The receptionist pressed a button beneath the desk. A soft chime rang out from one of the far hallways, followed by a brief glow of green light above a nearby door.
“Please have a seat,” she said smoothly. “Nurse Mai will be out shortly to take you both in.”
No one spoke as Compress quietly stood, his usual flair gone, replaced with a cold resolve. He nodded once to Hawks and turned on his heel, cloak brushing the floor behind him as he disappeared down the dim corridor toward the upper levels of the villa.
The others remained seated, or frozen where they stood. A heavy weight hung over them—regret, shame, disbelief. None of them had ever imagined things had gone this far. And yet… it had happened right under their noses.
Twice sat stiffly on the couch, fidgeting with his gloves. He looked like he was trying to say something but couldn’t find the words. Spinner paced restlessly near the wall, shoulders tight and jaw clenched. Skeptic had lowered himself into one of the chairs, hands steepled against his mouth as he stared into nothing. Even Geten—stoic, sharp-eyed Geten—was silent, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed and eyes fixed on the floor.
Re-Destro sat motionless in his wheelchair, fingers laced over his stomach. His expression remained unreadable, but his jaw was tight. His empire, his movement—stained by something he hadn’t seen coming.
Trumpet, who usually had something smug or sharp to say, was dead silent, his tablet forgotten on the table beside him.
Hawks stood in the middle of it all. His wings were partially out, relaxed but present, like they were just waiting for an excuse to snap forward. He didn't speak. Didn't gloat. He just waited, golden eyes fixed on the hallway Compress had taken.
Then, footsteps echoed from the corridor.
Slow. Measured. But not hesitant.
Compress stepped back into view first, his arm extended slightly behind him. And then—
Tomura Shigaraki stepped into the room.
He looked like hell.
His posture was slightly hunched, shoulders drawn in like he was shrinking into himself. The red eyes that usually gleamed with cruelty or calculation were duller now, rimmed with shadows. His white hair was slightly disheveled, as though he’d been clawing at his scalp. He wore a his gaming hoodie and sweatpants—loose, unkempt clothes, not his usual battlefield gear. There was no masks. Of course he had his gloves on.
Just him.
Everyone turned.
Tomura’s gaze flicked across each of them, his red-rimmed eyes narrowing in confusion. His fingers twitched at his sides, the ever-present urge to scratch threatening to rise, but something in the room’s atmosphere kept him still.
“What…” he rasped, his voice cracked and raw, “Why are you all looking at me like that? I’m already being punished. I’m grounded like some pathetic child!”
He snarled the last part, but there was no venom—only weariness.
Hawks stepped forward slowly, wings tucked tight, golden eyes unwavering. His voice was calm, but cold. Icy.
“You know why I’m here?”
Tomura flinched. His lips curled in a bitter grimace. “Toga told you… didn’t she?”
Hawks nodded once. “She did. And like I told everyone out there, she wasn’t the only one. Did you know Dabi helped her too? Helped the Princess escape?”
Tomura’s eyes widened at the name. His gaze jerked toward the others standing around the room—Spinner, Geten, Twice, Compress—each avoiding his stare in silence. Their stillness said it all.
“That’s why he hasn’t been showing his face here…” he whispered. His voice cracked with realization. “He left with her… didn’t he? Where the hell is he?!”
“With Princess Jess,” Hawks confirmed without hesitation. “From the moment he got her out of this place, she’s been with him. He’s the only one she lets touch her. She trusts him. Not you.”
Tomura took a shaky step back, lips parting as if to deny it—but no words came.
Hawks pressed on, his voice lowering with anger. “If I had known she was here—just one scream, just a single cry—and I would’ve torn this whole place apart to get her out before you could’ve forced yourself on her.”
That landed like a dagger. Tomura’s head dropped, teeth clenched, jaw tight with shame. “I know…” he muttered, barely audible. “I’m having therapy with Compress... I’m trying to fix it, to figure out why… why I did what I did…”
Mr. Compress, standing to the side with arms folded, finally stepped forward. His mask was off, his expression solemn.
“Hawks… he does truly love her,” Compress said softly. “And I truly believe that All For One manipulated that love. Twisted it. Warped it into something... unforgivable. Hawk’s tell him, he needs to know…”
Tomura looked up, startled. “What are you talking about?”
He turned slowly, scanning the faces around him again. Spinner looked away. Geten’s arms were folded, jaw tight. Twice stood frozen in place, expression unreadable. The guilt was thick in the air—palpable.
“Tell me what…?” Tomura demanded, desperation now creeping into his voice. “That she’s living happily with Dabi?! Is that what this is about?!”
Hawks’ voice cut through the tension like a blade.
“She’s suffering from a miscarriage.”
Silence.
Tomura’s blood ran cold.
“No…” he whispered.
But no one denied it.
“She didn’t even know she was pregnant,” Hawks continued, voice tight with restrained emotion. “Her body was under immense stress. And those Luminite bands—experimental, untested, made it worse. You let that doctor put them on her. You let her suffer. And now… She is highly allergic to Luminite… That’s what always caused her fevers…”
Tomura collapsed into the chair behind him, the weight of the truth crushing down on him like a landslide. His breath hitched in his throat.
“I… I didn’t know…” he choked out. “I never wanted that… I didn’t…”
Hawks didn’t respond immediately. He let the silence stretch. Let the guilt settle where it belonged.
Then, in a voice colder than frostbite, Hawks leaned in and said clearly, “You have one week, Tomura Shigaraki. One week to take responsibility. To turn yourself in.”
He let the silence stretch, his golden eyes locked onto Tomura’s wide, stunned expression.
“After that…” Hawks continued, quieter but sharper, “the Celtican Royal Guard won’t come asking—they’ll come delivering justice.”
The air turned heavier than before. The weight of those words sank deep, colder than any threat Tomura had faced before.
“They know not all of your actions, not all of your thoughts, were truly your own,” Hawks added, his tone softening only slightly. “If it weren’t for Toga vouching for you—if it weren’t for her saying that some part of you was still human—then they wouldn’t even be giving you this chance.”
He straightened again, wings flexing once, the light glinting off them like drawn blades.
“If she hadn’t spoken for you, it would’ve been like the medieval days. Off with your head, no questions asked.”
Tomura’s breath caught. He looked pale. Haunted.
“One week, Tomura,” Hawks repeated, finality in every word.
Then he turned his gaze toward Compress.
“If he decides to turn himself in, you’ll be the one to bring him. Safely. Peacefully. That’s your responsibility now.”
Compress gave a solemn nod. “Understood.”
“And to the rest of you,” Hawks continued, sweeping his gaze over the room—Skeptic, Spinner, Geten, Twice—“Nothing will happen. You’re not being hunted. You’re not the targets here. You didn’t touch the Princess. You weren’t the ones who locked her away. You weren’t the ones who hurt her.”
He let that hang before adding, “You’ve been given a free pass by Celtica. Like Dabi.”
Geten blinked at that. “Dabi…?”
Hawks nodded slowly. “He’s been granted full Celtican amnesty. His records? Scrubbed clean. For the bravery he showed in rescuing her. For getting her out.”
Twice nearly dropped the pillow he was holding. Skeptic looked like he might pass out.
“Wait… he’s been cleared?” Spinner asked, blinking. “Completely?”
“Completely,” Hawks confirmed. “He saved her. He shielded her. And now, for the first time in years, he has peace. Jess is alive because of him.”
Tomura looked down at his hands. Trembling slightly. The weight of it all collapsing around him.
One week.
And the clock had already started ticking.
Nurse Mai’s sneakers squeaked softly against the polished floor as she led them down a pristine hallway lined with softly glowing blue panels. She stopped outside one of the exam rooms and held the door open.
“Alright, you two. Inside,” she said gently, her tone professional but friendly. “You can remove your hoodies.
Dabi gave a low chuckle as he stepped inside, his voice muffled slightly behind his mask. “Finally,” he muttered, tugging down his hood and slipping off the outer layer of his coat. He tossed it over the back of a chair and leaned into it, his long frame instantly at ease.
Jess followed him in and peeled off her hoodie as well, handing it to Dabi without thinking. He took it with a grin, folding it casually over his lap like it was the most natural thing in the world.
The exam room was immaculate—brilliantly lit with soft ambient light, the white and pale blue walls giving it a calm, almost spa-like atmosphere. State-of-the-art monitors lined one wall, and the patient chair was cushioned and adjustable, clearly built for comfort as much as functionality.
Mai smiled and grabbed a tablet from the wall panel. “Let’s get your weight and height recorded, sweetheart,” she said, motioning to a sleek, modern scale in the corner. Her voice was warm but efficient, clearly used to balancing care and speed.
Jess nodded quietly and moved toward the scale, her bare arms still slightly chilled from outside despite the room’s warmth. Dabi watched her carefully, his gaze protective even as he lounged back in the chair, arms resting on the sides with casual confidence.
“Let me know if anything feels off,” Mai said as she typed swiftly into her tablet. “Vi wanted full vitals recorded before she even steps in the room. You’ve got her full attention.”
Jess blinked. “She’s really going to see me herself?”
Mai looked up with a smile. “Of course. You’re a special case. Dabi wouldn’t have brought just anyone here, trust me.”
That made Jess flush, her cheeks warming as she stepped onto the scale.
From his seat, Dabi tilted his head, a lazy smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he finally removed both his mask and sunglasses. The artificial lights overhead caught the mismatched, damaged texture of his skin—but for once, he didn’t flinch. “Told you she’s the best,” he muttered.
Mai gave him a flat look, arms crossed loosely as she stood near the chart screen. “You really should let Dr. Vi recheck those grafts. Your skin patches are dead and stapled on wrong. That’s not healing, that’s hazard tape on a fire.”
Jess blinked, turning sharply toward him. “Wait… they’re not scars? They’re skin grafts? And they’re dead?”
Dabi’s smirk faltered. His lips parted slightly, but he didn’t respond right away. Instead, he looked away, jaw tightening, the faintest flicker of shame crossing his eyes. “It’s not important,” he muttered.
Jess’s face softened. “Touya…”
But he didn’t look at her. Instead, he motioned toward the scale. “Get weighed and measured, babe,” he mumbled. “Let’s just get this over with.”
Mai gave Jess a gentle smile and gestured her over. “Come on, sweetie. I promise it’s painless.”
Jess hesitated only a moment longer before slipping off her shoes and stepping onto the scale.
Jess stepped down from the scale quietly after being weighed and measured, her eyes flicking between the sleek equipment and Nurse Mai's patient smile. Mai noted the numbers down on a digital clipboard before moving in with practiced ease—taking Jess’s blood pressure, checking her pulse, and gently placing a thermometer against her temple.
"Vitals look stable so far," Mai said, voice soft but professional. "What brings you in today?”
Jess hesitated.
Her fingers fidgeted with the hem of her sleeve before her eyes dropped to the floor. “…Miscarriage,” she murmured, barely audible. “It’s been… a couple of days.”
The air shifted. Mai's hand froze briefly before she set down the thermometer with extra care. Her expression turned somber. She looked to Dabi instinctively, eyebrows drawn in concern.
Dabi stood up slowly from the chair, brushing the front of his coat as he walked over. He placed a steady hand on Jess’s back, rubbing gently in slow, grounding circles.
“Long story short,” he began quietly, his voice flat but heavy with tension, “Jess was kidnapped by Shigaraki. Locked away. And… somewhere down that twisted road… he forced himself on her. This is the result.”
Mai exhaled, her shoulders stiffening. She gave a small nod of understanding, a flicker of pain flashing across her features. “I'm sorry. I had no idea...” she said gently, her tone shifting from professional to personal. “You’ve both been through hell.”
She stood up straighter and walked toward the door. “Doctor Vi will be with you shortly.”
Just as she reached for the door panel, a loud, agonized yell echoed from down the hall:
“Damn it, don’t pull the bullet out yet! It still freakin’ hurts!”
Jess jumped slightly at the sound, her eyes wide.
Mai didn’t even flinch. She sighed with a weary shake of her head. “Another one of Vi’s regulars,” she muttered.
Dabi smirked faintly. “Another day, another bullet wound, huh?”
“Pretty much,” Mai replied, already halfway through the doorway. “I swear, she needs to start handing out a loyalty punch card.”
She gave Jess one last reassuring glance before stepping out, letting the soft hiss of the sliding door close them in with quiet once again.
Five minutes passed in relative quiet, save for the distant murmurs of clinic staff and the occasional clang of metal instruments in a nearby room. Jess sat on the exam table, swinging her feet gently above the floor, her hands resting in her lap. Dabi leaned back in the chair, arms crossed, lost in thought.
Then came a soft knock.
The door slid open, and in stepped Dr. Vi—flawless white coat pressed to perfection, tablet in one hand, stethoscope looped around her neck. Her expression was calm at first... until her lime green eyes landed on Jess.
Her breath hitched.
The tablet in her hand nearly slipped from her fingers. She fumbled it slightly before catching it and blinked in stunned silence.
Dabi sat forward, eyebrows raised. “Vi…?”
Vi didn’t respond right away. Her gaze was locked on Jess, eyes wide with dawning realization. Her voice finally came out in a breathless whisper. “Well… well… Dabi, you didn’t tell me your girlfriend was the daughter of Revan.”
Jess’s head snapped toward her, eyes widening in disbelief. “Wait—how do you…?” she trailed off, then exhaled slowly. “Of course you’d know him. You knew my father before he retired…”
Dabi looked between the two women, utterly confused. “Wait. Hold up. Daughter of who now? Vi, this is—”
Vi gave him a half-smirk, tapping her tablet screen to pull up Jess’s vitals while keeping her attention on him. “The 2nd Crowned Princess of Celtica. Jessica Lightning Kuran Mikcloud. Daughter of Princess Dawn, the 1st Crowned Princess of Celtica, and James Kuran—Duke of Celtica. Also known in the criminal underworld as Revan.”
Dabi’s jaw parted slightly, still not fully processing. “Your father is a retired professional assassin from the criminal underground?” he asked Jess, eyes narrowed slightly in disbelief.
Jess nodded slowly. “Yeah. He… doesn’t talk about it. Not really. He goes by James Kuran now.”
Vi hummed thoughtfully, still scanning Jess’s chart. “He was feared and respected everywhere. Revan wasn’t just a name—it was a warning. But he walked away from it all when he married into the royal family.”
Jess rubbed the back of her neck awkwardly. “He likes to pretend that part of his life doesn’t exist anymore. Says it’s in the past.”
Vi gave her a knowing smile. “We all have pasts, Your Highness. But yours? That kind of bloodline—those stories—are hard to forget.” She glanced back at the tablet. “Now, I read Mai’s notes. You’re suffering from a miscarriage. I take it you want me to check if your body is still going through it?”
Jess nodded, voice quieter. “Yes. Just… to be sure.”
Vi nodded with understanding and stepped over to a nearby cabinet. She pulled out a sealed hospital gown and handed it to Jess. “Change into this. I’ll step out and return with Nurse Mai once you’re ready.”
Vi gave Jess a reassuring nod before drawing the pale blue privacy curtain across the room and stepping out, the door clicking shut behind her. The room fell into a hush, dimmed only by the soft hum of the overhead lights and the faint beeping of the monitor near the exam bed.
Jess let out a quiet sigh and scooted off the edge of the bed, gown in hand. She glanced briefly at Dabi, who had already dropped back into the chair with a groan, eyes closed and head tilted back. His arms rested lazily over the chair’s armrests, the usual cocky tension in his frame softened by the sterile calm of the clinic.
She turned her back to him and began to undress, the rustling of fabric the only sound in the room for a few moments. Cold air brushed her skin as she slipped her shirt off, the chill of the room a stark contrast to the warmth she’d been bundled in earlier.
Then came the gown. Jess struggled quietly, trying to pull the flimsy strings into a knot behind her. After a few clumsy tries, she groaned in frustration.
“…Touya?”
Dabi cracked one eye open at the sound of her voice.
“Yeah?”
“…Can you help me with the back?” she asked, cheeks pink. “These ties are always impossible. I hate hospital gowns—they’re so damn difficult to close.”
He chuckled low under his breath and pushed himself up from the chair. “Yeah, yeah, I got you.”
Dabi crossed the room, his footsteps soft on the tile. As he reached her, he gently took the strings from her hands. She kept her arms crossed over her chest, facing away, the blush creeping higher on her ears.
“You’d think for how expensive this place is, they’d make gowns that don’t feel like paper napkins,” he muttered as he looped the ties through and pulled them snug—not too tight, not too loose.
Jess gave a small laugh under her breath. “Right? Some high-tech underground clinic, but still stuck in the dark ages when it comes to these.”
Dabi’s fingers brushed against her upper back just briefly as he finished tying the last knot. His touch lingered a beat longer than necessary before he stepped away.
“You’re good,” he murmured.
Jess turned her head slightly, offering him a grateful smile. “Thanks.”
He shrugged and eased back into the chair, stretching one leg out in front of him as his eyes flicked lazily toward the door. “Stop being so goddamn cute…” he muttered, the words laced with affection, though his tone remained gruff.
Jess chuckled softly, pulling the hospital gown down over her thighs as she settled on the edge of the bed again. “Stop being so devilishly handsome, then.”
Dabi arched a brow, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. “Me? Devilishly handsome?” he scoffed, gesturing to his face with a lazy wave. “Babe, I’m stitched together like Frankenstein’s monster.”
Jess’s smile faded just slightly as she turned to face him fully. “Touya,” she said, voice softer now. “I don’t care if you have dead skin grafts or staples. I don’t care about the burns or the scars or any of that. Looks don’t always matter.”
He blinked at her, caught off guard by the sincerity in her tone.
“I care about you,” she continued, her fingers curling around the edge of the gown. “The one who held me when I couldn’t stand. The one who made me laugh when everything felt like it was falling apart. That’s the version of you I see.”
Dabi looked down for a moment, the smirk fading into something quieter, more human. His jaw tensed, then relaxed as he let out a slow breath.
“…Damn it, you really are too cute.”
Jess rolled her eyes but smiled. “You started it.”
A soft knock tapped at the door before it eased open. Vi stepped back in, her expression professional but kind, followed closely by Nurse Mai, who was already slipping on a pair of sanitized gloves.
Vi gave Jess a reassuring smile as she closed the curtain again behind them. “Alright, Jess. We’ll start now. This part of the exam will feel similar to a pap smear—just a bit of pressure, nothing too painful. You okay with that?”
Jess gave a small nod, her fingers twisting nervously in the thin hospital gown. “Yeah… I’ve had one before, just not in this kind of context.”
Dabi, still seated in the corner of the room, leaned his head back against the wall with a low exhale. He couldn’t see what was going on from his angle, but the mention of the procedure made him shift slightly, crossing his arms behind his head to avoid looking anywhere in Jess’s direction.
Vi moved with quiet precision, guiding Jess to lay back against the inclined bed. “Feet here, sweetheart,” she said gently, motioning to the stirrups. “Just breathe. We’ll be quick and careful.”
Jess followed the instructions, adjusting herself and placing her legs into position, her body tense until she felt Dabi’s presence nearby again—he hadn’t moved closer, but the low sound of his breathing grounded her.
“You’re okay,” he muttered from the chair, eyes closed, arms now folded across his chest. “I’m right here.”
Jess smiled faintly, even as she laid back and stared at the overhead lights. “I know.”
Vi exchanged a glance with Mai and then began the internal exam with practiced care, her voice remaining calm and clinical throughout. “You’ll feel a little pressure… There we go. No active bleeding… cervical tissue is healing. No signs of infection, but I’ll take a few samples just in case.”
Jess winced slightly but kept still, gripping the edge of the sheet beneath her.
“You’re doing amazing,” Mai said, standing beside her and gently adjusting the overhead monitor. “It’s almost done.”
Dabi exhaled again, thumb tapping against his knee. “Remind me never to piss you off again, Jess. You’re tougher than half the villains I’ve met.”
Vi chuckled quietly as she finished the internal check, removing her gloves with a soft snap. “All done, princess. You handled that like a champ.”
Jess let out a breath of relief as Mai handed her a warm towel and helped her sit up slowly.
Vi stepped back to her tablet and began inputting notes. “We’ll do a full scan next to confirm the uterus is healing properly and that there’s no retained tissue. From what I’m seeing so far, you're no longer actively miscarrying, and any future intercourse should be safe.”
She paused briefly before adding, her tone professional but warm, “Just to be thorough, we’re going to use an ultrasound to make sure nothing remained—sometimes the sac or embryo doesn’t fully pass during the miscarriage.”
Both Jess and Dabi flushed a deep shade of red at the mention of intercourse. Jess shifted slightly on the exam bed, eyes wide, while Dabi cleared his throat and glanced at the wall with a faint scowl.
Vi chuckled at their matching reactions, a smirk tugging at her lips as she stood. “Relax, I’m a doctor, not your therapist. You’re not the first couple I’ve said that to, and you won’t be the last.”
Jess muttered under her breath, “Still awkward…”
Dabi rubbed the back of his neck. “She really is the best, huh…”
Vi waved a hand playfully as she turned to the door. “I’ll be back in just a minute with the portable ultrasound machine. Sit tight, Your Highness.”
She slipped out, leaving the door gently ajar behind her.
Mai had quietly returned after the exam, offering Jess a gentle smile as she closed the curtain around the bed for privacy. “You can go ahead and change back into your clothes now. Dr. Vi will be back shortly.”
She stepped out and shut the door behind her with a soft click.
The room fell into a hush. Jess remained on the exam bed for a moment, her fingers fidgeting with the hospital sheet across her lap. Dabi sat nearby, elbows on his knees, gaze fixed on the ground.
Neither spoke at first. The silence between them wasn't heavy—just cautious. Hesitant. The kind of quiet shared between two people standing on the edge of something uncertain.
Dabi let out a slow breath and leaned back in the chair, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. He hadn't thought this far ahead. Not really. He’d been so focused on helping her feel safe, keeping her warm, watching over her sleep, and distracting her with awful old movies and good food. But this? Watching her slowly change back into her clothes—watching the lingering vulnerability on her face—he couldn’t ignore the thought anymore.
He didn’t want to push her. Not ever.
What if she panics?
What if the slightest touch from me takes her back there?
Dabi’s eyes flicked over to her just as Jess slid off the exam bed, gathering her clothes from the chair beside her. She moved slowly, still achy, the hospital gown rustling against her skin. Her hands struggled behind her back, fingers fumbling to untie the last tie.
“Stupid thing…” she grumbled, her voice tight with frustration.
Dabi blinked out of his thoughts and let out a small, breathy chuckle. “Y-you need help?” he asked gently.
Jess’s cheeks flushed, but she gave a small nod without turning around. “Yeah… stupid knot’s impossible.”
He rose carefully from the chair and stepped behind her, movements slow and deliberate—giving her time to object if she needed. When she didn’t, he reached up and untied the soft cotton strings with delicate fingers. His hands brushed her back lightly, barely more than a whisper.
“There,” he said, stepping back again. “You’re free.”
Jess glanced over her shoulder, her face still pink but eyes full of something tender. “Thanks…”
Dabi gave her a crooked smile. “Anytime, babe.”
The curtain stayed drawn, and the air between them remained soft. Tentative. But there was no fear in her eyes—only warmth. And maybe… maybe that was enough for now.
By the time the door opened again, Jess had finished dressing. She was perched on the edge of the exam bed once more, fingers interlaced nervously in her lap. Dabi had resumed his spot in the chair beside her, leaning back with one ankle propped up on his knee, arms folded—but his gaze never strayed far from her.
The soft hum of wheels preceded Dr. Vi’s return as she pushed a sleek, high-tech portable ultrasound machine into the room. The device looked freshly polished and intimidatingly advanced, its monitor flickering to life with pale blue hues as it booted up.
“Alright, Princess,” Vi said with her usual composed tone and a nod toward the bed. “Lie back and lift up your shirt just enough to expose your lower abdomen. Mai will place a few towels under the waistband of your leggings so we don’t get gel all over them. The gel will be warm, I promise.”
Jess took a steady breath, nodding as she eased back onto the bed, lifting her sweater just above her stomach. She tensed slightly as Mai approached, but the nurse’s hands were practiced and gentle, carefully tucking the folded towels along the hem of Jess’s waistband to protect the fabric.
“I got you,” Mai said quietly with a reassuring smile before stepping aside to prep the gel.
Dabi’s gaze lingered on Jess’s face as he watched her exhale and rest her head against the pillow, her fingers twitching slightly where they gripped the paper sheet beneath her. He didn’t speak, but his posture was still, alert—there if she needed him.
Vi grabbed the transducer, coated it with the warmed gel, and moved to Jess’s side. “This will feel a bit weird, maybe slightly uncomfortable, but it won’t hurt,” she explained.
Jess nodded again, her jaw set. “I’m okay.”
The machine let out a soft beep as Vi gently pressed the wand to her stomach, moving it slowly in small circles. The screen flickered, casting faint blue and green light across Vi’s focused face.
Dabi couldn’t see the monitor from his angle, but he didn’t try to. His eyes remained fixed on Jess, quietly watching for any shift in her breathing—any flicker of distress.
“Hm…” Vi murmured thoughtfully as she adjusted the probe. “Uterine lining looks clean. No signs of retained tissue… everything is healing exactly as it should.”
Jess let out a soft exhale, her shoulders slumping in relief.
Vi offered a small, reassuring smile. “I can confirm the embryonic sac has passed. There’s nothing left. That part of the process is over. How strong was the bleeding?”
“Very strong,” Dabi answered for her, his voice steady but tense. “I mean… a lot. I had to make sure she drank something to keep her from passing out from the blood loss. My… brother helped me take care of her.”
Vi gave a thoughtful hum. “I see. So you finally confided in someone.”
“Only to Natsuo,” Jess said quietly.
Vi's eyes flicked to her, a hint of amusement behind the seriousness. “I figured as much.”
Jess frowned slightly. “Wait… how did you know?”
Vi straightened, carefully cleaning the probe. “The first time he came here—years ago—he was unconscious from cracked ribs and a punctured lung. Standard procedure, I ran bloodwork and a DNA test to determine blood type and compatibility.”
She paused, giving Dabi a sideways glance.
“And wouldn’t you know it—the DNA matched a thirteen-year-old boy who’d been presumed dead for years. Touya Todoroki.”
Jess’s eyes widened.
Dabi crossed his arms and looked away, his jaw tightening. “When I woke up, she told me. And I begged her to keep it a secret.”
Vi let out a quiet laugh, more gentle than mocking. “You, Your Highness, were most likely around five weeks pregnant when the miscarriage happened.”
Jess’s eyes widened. Her breath caught as the realization sank in. “So… the first time he…” She trailed off, her voice cracking as she looked away, shame and pain twisting through her features.
Without hesitation, Dabi stood and crossed the small space to her side. He gently reached for her hand, his grip soft but grounding. “It’s okay…” he murmured, his voice low and steady. “You don’t have to carry this alone.”
Vi watched the two quietly, her gaze lingering on Dabi for a long moment before she spoke. “When are you going to let me fix your body, Dabi?” she asked, her voice gentle but firm as she wiped the remaining gel from Jess’s abdomen. Once finished, she tossed the towel aside and sat back down, tablet in hand. “Stapling those dead skin grafts onto healthy tissue… that can’t be good.”
Dabi didn’t look away from Jess, his hand still wrapped around hers protectively. “It’s not just the grafts that need fixing,” he muttered.
Vi nodded solemnly. “I know. Whatever happened to you caused severe damage—not just to your skin, but to your nervous system. Your pain receptors are dulled, maybe permanently. And your organs… they’ve taken more than their fair share of stress.”
She leaned back slightly, crossing one leg over the other. “Who do you think operated on you after your ribs collapsed? Who had to call in a bone quirk specialist to reconstruct your lower metal popped out od socket and was melting from your own quirk? That was me. I pieced you back together like glass. You need to stop treating your body like it’s disposable.”
Dabi let out a quiet breath. “You think I don’t know that?”
“At least let me replace the skin grafts,” Vi pressed. “We can remove the staples, rebuild some of the dermal layers properly. But you have to stop using your quirk for a while. Let your body breathe. Let it heal.”
She stood then, brushing imaginary dust from her coat. “And if you really are taking the Princess back to the Embassy soon… well, I imagine their medical tech is far more advanced than even mine.”
Dabi hesitated, then nodded faintly. “I’ll think about it…”
Vi gave him a long look before turning to Jess. “I’ll have Nurse Mai bring in the paperwork. Don’t worry, Princess—everything we’ve done here will be privately filed. No one in your family will see it unless you say so.”
Chapter Text
October 31st — Halloween Day
Fujitani Hospital, Tokyo
The crisp breath of autumn carried through the courtyard garden, its breeze stirring golden leaves across the stone path. Rei Todoroki sat alone on the wooden bench near the koi pond, cradling a single rindou bloom between her fingers. Also known as the Japanese gentian or Gentiana scabra, the vibrant blue-purple petals matched the depth of the sky above—clear, melancholic, and endless. It was her favorite flower.
The cold didn't bother her. Never had. With her ice quirk, she found comfort in the chill—like a gentle embrace of something familiar. To her, this weather was perfect.
She glanced down at the flower again, her gaze softening. "Touya..." she whispered under her breath. A bittersweet smile curved her lips. "I wonder how you're doing up there in heaven."
Halloween had always been his favorite holiday. He used to start planning his costume weeks in advance, running around the house in excitement. It was the only time he managed to drag Shoto out of his shell—literally out of the house that final year before he was declared dead. Rei still remembered how Touya, just thirteen at the time, had held his younger brother's hand all night, taking him, Fuyumi, and Natsuo through the neighborhood. It had been one of the last joyful memories they shared before everything fractured.
A soft humming rose from her throat—an old lullaby Touya loved when he was small.
"Miss Rei?"
Her humming paused as she turned toward the voice. One of the nurses was approaching, bundled in a pale blue cardigan and holding a clipboard.
"You have visitors," the nurse said with a kind smile. "It's Fuyumi and Natsuo... and a woman with them I don't recognize."
Rei blinked slowly, adjusting the flower in her lap. "A woman?" she repeated, curious.
The nurse nodded. "She said her name is Princess Dawn Mikcloud Kuran."
Rei's fingers tightened slightly on the stem of the flower as her heartbeat subtly picked up.
The wind followed Rei as she stood from the bench, still clutching the rindou in her hand. She tilted her head at the nurse's words.
"The cafeteria?" she asked softly, her brows knitting in quiet confusion.
The nurse nodded and gave a reassuring smile. "It's been cleared out for privacy. They're waiting for you there, Miss Rei. Come—I'll take you."
Rei hesitated for only a moment before quietly falling in step beside the nurse. The walk through the long hospital corridors took several minutes. The gentle clack of the nurse's shoes echoed down the halls, while Rei's own slippered steps remained near-silent. She gazed around, wondering what could be so important it couldn't be said in the garden.
When they reached the cafeteria doors, Rei blinked in surprise.
It wasn't the same bustling, echoing space it usually was. The lights had been dimmed slightly to soften the sterile glow, and the entire room had been cleared of patients and staff. Instead, only a few tables remained near the large windows that overlooked the hospital grounds.
Natsuo and Fuyumi stood as soon as they saw her.
"Mom!" Natsuo called, his grin wide and warm. "Happy Halloween! Shoto's gonna be here a little later—he's coming with Izuku."
Rei's confusion began to ease as she walked over, the faintest smile rising on her lips.
Fuyumi stepped forward and lifted a small container. "Mom, I made your Halloween cookie recipe... I hope I did okay," she said nervously.
Natsuo leaned in, scrunching his nose. "Touya's were better, though..."
Fuyumi shot him a warning glare. "Natsuo."
Rei chuckled softly, taking the container from Fuyumi's hands with gentle fingers. "Thank you, sweetheart... They look perfect," she said, though her eyes soon shifted to the unfamiliar woman seated at the table.
A regal figure in a long coat, with deep raspberry-red hair cascading in soft waves and striking emerald green eyes, sat poised with calm authority. She smiled warmly and rose just enough to extend a hand.
"Hello, Miss Rei. I'm Princess Dawn Mikcloud Kuran," she said smoothly. "Please... have a seat. We have much to discuss."
Her next words sent a quiet chill through Rei's heart.
"Specifically... about your husband."
Downtown bustled with the spirit of Halloween—children in costumes darted between shopfronts, candy bags swinging in hand, and orange lights glowed in the windows of every café and convenience store. The air was crisp but not biting, the kind of autumn breeze that smelled faintly of cinnamon and dried leaves.
Among the crowd, Jess and Dabi walked side by side, fingers loosely intertwined. Jess's steps were light, almost playful, as she glanced at the Halloween displays in shop windows. The faintest blush kissed her cheeks, either from the chilly air or the joy bubbling in her chest.
Dabi stole a glance at her, his lips twitching into a rare, amused smile.
"Happy birthday," he murmured, his tone warm beneath the usual rough edge.
Jess looked up at him with a soft laugh. "That's the fourth time you've said that today."
"I keep getting kisses out of it," Dabi shrugged with a lazy smirk. "So where's my next one?"
She stopped, tugging him gently by the hand until he paused mid-step. Rising onto her toes, Jess pressed a kiss to his scarred cheek—gentle, unbothered by the texture of his skin. "You owe me a cupcake for that one," she whispered, her tone teasing.
Dabi chuckled, the sound low in his throat. But just as he leaned closer, his phone buzzed in his jacket pocket with an annoying ping. He groaned audibly, digging it out with one hand while still holding hers with the other.
His eyes scanned the screen.
Natsuo:
Come and visit Mom. Let her know you're alive. Don't make Mom or Shoto suffer through Fuyumi's attempt at Halloween cookies! Happy Halloween.
Dabi snorted, shaking his head as he locked his phone screen again. "My brother's got jokes," he muttered under his breath.
Jess tilted her head, eyes curious. "What did he say?"
Dabi glanced over at her and, instead of answering right away, gently raised her hand to his lips. He brushed his thumb along her knuckles, his touch warm despite the chill in the air. "Apparently, he wants me to visit Mom," he said quietly. "What part of I'm not ready doesn't he understand?"
Jess leaned into him with a soft smile. "I wanna meet her... please? It's my birthday."
He sighed heavily, clearly torn, then gave her a side glance that was half-exasperated, half-affectionate. "Fine... You're lucky you're cute."
Back at the hospital, the atmosphere inside the cafeteria had quieted. The space had been cleared out ahead of time, making the usually busy room feel strangely private. Rei sat with her children and Dawn Mikcloud Kuran, the 1st Crowned Princess of Celtica, whose regal poise and piercing emerald eyes made her presence impossible to ignore.
Dawn picked up one of Fuyumi's cookies, took a small bite, then calmly set it back down on the napkin. "Mmm. Too much baking butter," she murmured politely before turning her attention fully to Rei.
"Miss Rei," Dawn began, her tone shifting into something more formal, more serious. "I would like to inform you that your husband has been officially suspended from all hero duties. He has been fitted with a high-grade Luminite ankle monitor and was ordered to surrender his hero uniform and license."
Rei's fingers tightened slightly around her tea cup, but she didn't speak—she listened.
"You understand why this was necessary, don't you?" Dawn asked gently but firmly. "The Commission's takedown uncovered a great many things. Records they had sealed. Actions they turned a blind eye to. Including evidence of long-term domestic abuse... and the fact that your marriage was a violation of Japan's quirk compatibility laws. A marriage that should have never been permitted."
Fuyumi looked down, her shoulders stiff, while Natsuo sat with his arms crossed, face unreadable.
Rei blinked slowly, a long silence stretching before she finally nodded. When she spoke, her voice was quiet—raw with buried pain.
"Enji came to my parents," she said. "He offered ten million yen for me... and they took it. They sold me."
Fuyumi's lips parted slightly, a soft gasp escaping her. Natsuo's jaw clenched, his eyes darkening with quiet fury. They had known bits and pieces—rumors, implications—but hearing their mother say it aloud, hearing it so plainly, so brokenly... was another matter entirely.
"My brother... he didn't like it," Rei continued, her voice wavering. "He begged me not to go through with it. But I didn't have a choice. I was told it was for the good of our family. That it would elevate us... protect us."
Dawn reached out, her touch warm and steady as she gently took Rei's hand. "Did you know," she said softly, "that your nephew ran away from home? He was the same age Fuyumi was when you were carrying Shoto. He ran... and ended up being taken in by Rikiya Yotsubashi. He's now part of the Liberation Front."
Rei's eyes widened, her breath catching in her throat. "G-Geten...?" she whispered. "Does... my brother know?"
Dawn nodded. "I told him. He's trying to make contact. It's... delicate."
Rei looked down at her lap, her gaze far away. "He was always such a sweet boy," she murmured. "He used to make me flowers out of ice. Tiny little things. Said they'd never wilt because they were made just for me."
A soft silence followed her words, heavy with memory and grief.
At the front entrance of Fujitani Hospital, the automatic doors parted with a soft whoosh as Jess and Dabi stepped inside. Jess adjusted the black and neon green hood of her Halloween cloak, breathing in the sterile chill of the lobby air. Dabi walked beside her, one hand in his pocket and the other holding hers.
"This place hasn't changed," he muttered, glancing around with a furrowed brow. "Natsuo said they're in the cafeteria. Come on."
Jess nodded, squeezing his hand gently as they walked together down the corridor. But as they turned the corner toward the cafeteria, she suddenly slowed.
There, standing at the entrance, were two imposing figures clad in black and silver armor—the unmistakable uniforms of the Celtican Royal Guard.
Jess's eyes narrowed. "What are Celtican guards doing here...?"
Dabi stopped as well, his mood darkening instantly. He didn't like this. Not one bit.
As they approached, one of the guards lifted a hand to stop them. "Apologies," he said formally. "The cafeteria is closed due to a private matter—"
Jess sighed and stepped forward, reaching up to pull her hood down. She moved her raspberry red long braid hair over her shoulder, glowing faintly under the hallway lights.
"Let us in," she said firmly.
The guards froze. Their eyes widened in stunned recognition—and then, as if in perfect synchronicity, they dropped to one knee.
"Princess Jess," the lead guard breathed. "Forgive us. We didn't realize."
Jess crossed her arms, her voice sharp. "Who is in that room?"
"Your mother, Princess," the guard replied quickly. "And the Todoroki family."
"Jess?"
She turned at the familiar voice, her expression softening as she saw Izuku and Shoto approaching from the hallway. Shoto was in a long black coat, and Izuku had what looked like a paper pumpkin bag clutched in one hand.
Jess smiled faintly. "Hey, cuz."
Dabi blinked beside her. "Wait. Cuz?"
Jess chuckled. "I'll explain later."
Izuku stepped forward quickly, his eyes wide with surprise and joy. "Jess! I—" He went in for a hug, but she instinctively stepped back—and in a flash, Dabi was between them.
"Easy there, finger-breaking kid," Dabi said with a tight smile. "Jess still isn't okay with being touched by most people."
Izuku blinked, a little stunned, then nodded in understanding, stepping back. Shoto, standing beside him, stared at the man in front of them with slowly widening eyes.
"...Dabi?" Shoto said, his voice quiet—full of disbelief and confusion.
Dabi tilted his head slightly and reached up, tugging down the mask that concealed the lower half of his face. A faint, almost playful grin tugged at the corners of his lips.
"Hey, little brother."
Shoto's eyes widened. "Little... brother...?"
Jess stepped up beside them, her voice gentle as she looked at him. "Touya."
The name landed with weight. Shoto froze—his expression unreadable as years of pain, memory, and unanswered questions collided in his mind.
Jess gave a small smile. "Come on. Besides... I'm hungry."
Dabi chuckled and reached out, ruffling Shoto's hair in a way that was both teasing and affectionate. "Come on, squirt. You too," he added, glancing at Izuku with a smirk.
Izuku blinked, still trying to process what he was witnessing, but gave a small, stunned nod.
And just like that, the four of them—two broken families slowly stitching themselves back together—walked toward the cafeteria doors.
Jess, Dabi, Shoto, and Izuku turned the corner into the hospital cafeteria—quiet, bright with filtered sunlight from the high windows, and cleared of its usual lunchtime crowd.
"Mom."
The word fell from Jess's lips like a breath she'd been holding in for far too long.
Dawn's head jerked up at the sound, and in the space of a heartbeat, her eyes locked onto her daughter's. The chair beneath her scraped harshly against the floor as she pushed to her feet, shock rippling across her face. "J-Jess...?"
Jess gave a small, breathless nod before rushing forward. She collided with her mother's open arms in a fierce, trembling hug that said everything words couldn't.
"I'm okay, Mom," Jess whispered, burying her face against her mother's shoulder.
Dawn's breath hitched as she held her daughter close, her eyes flooding with tears. "Oh, thank the gods..." she breathed. "You had me waiting for weeks—hiding away with Dabi. Do you have any idea how hard it's been trying to keep your older brother from tearing the entire country apart to find you?"
Jess let out a tired sigh, still clinging to her mother. "I really don't need his overbearing sister complex right now..."
Dawn chuckled through her tears, stroking Jess's hair. "Still my sharp-tongued little lightning storm..."
From across the table, Natsuo smiled warmly at the reunion. "Well hello, Jess. Happy birthday."
Jess nodded, her voice caught in her throat as she continued holding onto her mother, soaking in the comfort she'd missed for so long.
Fuyumi blinked at the sight, confused and clearly caught off guard. "Wait—how do you know the Princess?"
Rei's brow furrowed, her expression shifting with subtle tension as she slowly stood. "Mom...?"
Her voice trembled slightly as she turned toward the approaching figures—her son Shoto, walking beside Izuku... and someone else.
"Hello, Shoto. Hello, Izuku," Rei said gently, offering a soft, almost instinctive smile to the two boys.
Then her gaze landed on him.
The third figure. Tall, lean, unmistakable even with the hoodie and mask. He stepped closer, his pace slow but steady.
Dabi.
He stopped a few feet away from her, and with deliberate motion, tugged down his mask.
The room fell into a vacuum of silence.
"Mom," he said, voice low and rasped, but unmistakably his.
Rei's hands lifted slightly, as if reaching toward a ghost. Her mouth parted but no sound came out, her breath stolen by disbelief.
Natsuo grinned beside her, eyes shining. "Touya."
Fuyumi let out a strangled gasp. She took a sharp step back, shaking her head. "No... No, it can't be. Touya would never become a villain! He wouldn't! You—you're not him! He's dead! He's been dead for years!"
Dabi's expression darkened, his gaze snapping to Fuyumi with chilling intensity. His jaw tightened, a flicker of old hurt buried beneath his sharp glare.
"Yumi," he said, each word deliberate and cold. "Shut. The hell. Up."
Natsuo immediately burst out laughing, his shoulders shaking. "Yup. Totally Touya." He leaned over and nudged a nearby tray with his elbow. "Touya-nii, do not eat those cookies. Trust me."
Shoto picked one up anyway, studying it curiously before taking a bite. His face wrinkled in mild disappointment. "Bakugo made amazing cookies today... these taste like way too much butter."
Izuku hesitated, then awkwardly reached for one of the cookies as well. He took a small bite, smiled politely, and forced himself to finish it, trying not to offend Fuyumi.
Rei slowly rose from her seat, her hands trembling. Her eyes locked onto her eldest son—this ghost of a boy she'd mourned, who now stood before her. With hesitant steps, she reached up and gently cupped his face in both hands, her fingers lightly brushing the stapled seams and grafted skin.
"Touya..." she whispered, voice cracking under the weight of disbelief. "Is it really you?"
Dabi nodded once, expression softening just a little. "Yeah... It's me, Mom. Just... don't ask too many questions right now, okay? I'll tell you everything... in time."
Across the room, Dawn finally released Jess from their embrace, her eyes lingering warmly on her daughter before turning toward Dabi. She stepped closer, her presence commanding yet maternal as she approached him.
"Well then," she said with a small smile. "Dabi... or should I say Touya?"
He shrugged with a lazy smirk, trying to play it cool. "Doesn't matter much to me."
Dawn placed both hands gently on his shoulders, her gaze sincere. "What you did for Jess was nothing short of brave. You got her out of that hellhole. You and Toga both helped save her." Her voice softened further. "Thank you... so much."
Dabi's smirk faltered, a light flush touching his cheeks. He looked down, his voice dropping to a murmur. "I couldn't let her end up like Mom... I had to get her out."
Jess stepped beside him, slipping her hand into his. She didn't say a word—but the way she looked at him, the way her fingers tightened just slightly around his palm, said everything he needed to hear.
Everyone had gathered around the long, polished table as the guards carefully placed steaming bowls of food in front of each person—not from the hospital cafeteria, but delivered from a beloved local ramen shop known for its rich broths and authentic flavors.
Dabi had removed his hood, his messy black with white roots exposed as he leaned back in his chair, eyeing the food with visible satisfaction. The savory scent of miso broth, grilled beef, roasted mushrooms, and seasoned vegetables filled the air. Jess beamed as she looked down at her bowl of Beef Miso Ramen, her eyes lighting up with joy.
"Actual ramen," Touya grinned, picking up his chopsticks. "Not the instant garbage."
Jess let out a soft chuckle, nudging him playfully with her elbow. "Don't forget, we've still got the crockpot running back at the bunker... My family's tavern-style mushroom pot roast is probably making the whole place smell like home right now."
Dawn laughed gently from across the table. "She never cooks that for anyone, you know. You must be very special."
Natsuo slurped his ramen loudly, grinning behind his bowl. "Oh, you could say very special."
Touya shot him a glare, chopsticks still midair. "Shut up, Ice Giant," he muttered before stuffing his mouth with noodles, letting the hot broth warm his throat.
Across the table, Izuku and Shoto were quietly enjoying their bowls. Shoto's usual stoic expression softened, his gaze occasionally drifting toward Touya with a rare, almost childlike admiration. He hadn't said much, but the comfort of slurping ramen beside his older brother again stirred something in him—something warm and deeply missed.
After a few bites, he finally spoke, his voice soft but sincere. "Can we share soba sometime...? Natsuo said it was your favorite."
Dabi paused mid-slurp, blinking at his youngest sibling. He swallowed, then smirked faintly.
"...Yeah," he said, his voice gentler than before. "Yeah, squirt. We'll do that."
Jess glanced between the two brothers, a small smile tugging at her lips. Despite everything—despite the years, the pain, the silence—there was something beautiful in that simple exchange. Something whole. And for the first time in a long while... the Todoroki family felt a little less broken.
However, not everyone at the table shared in the warmth. Fuyumi sat stiffly, her ramen untouched. Her fingers hovered over her chopsticks, fidgeting anxiously.
Rei, having just finished slurping the last of her broth, gently dabbed her mouth with a napkin and turned toward her daughter. "Sweetheart... what's wrong?" she asked softly.
The question drew attention—everyone at the table turned to Fuyumi. Her eyes were cast downward, her lips trembling slightly.
Then, without warning, she bit her lower lip hard and slammed her chopsticks against the table.
The sharp sound startled Jess, making her flinch. She instinctively reached for Dabi, clutching onto his Halloween pajama sleeve as her heartbeat spiked. Dabi immediately went rigid, his arm automatically curling protectively in front of her as his eyes snapped toward his sister.
"What the hell, Yumi!?" he snapped, his voice low and defensive.
Fuyumi stood up, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. Her voice trembled—not with fear, but with anger, and years of bottled confusion.
"How can you sit here like nothing happened?!" she burst out, her voice cracking. "You became a villain! You attacked Shoto and his classmates—"
Shoto's brows furrowed, but he stayed silent.
"You kidnapped that Bakugo boy," Fuyumi continued, her breath shuddering. "And—and you sent that thing—that Nomu after father! It left a scar on his face! He could've died!"
Her words echoed in the now-silent cafeteria.
Jess's grip on Dabi tightened as she instinctively shrank against his side. Dabi's eyes darkened. His jaw twitched.
But instead of lashing out... he took a slow breath.
He didn't yell. He didn't rise to the bait. Instead, his voice came out rough but steady.
"I had every right to scar him the way he did the same to me... mom.. Shoto..."
Fuyumi opened her mouth to respond, but no words came. She faltered, caught between her own memories and what she'd always believed.
"I'm not asking you to forgive me," Dabi continued, his voice low and raw. "You think this was some kind of choice? Like I just woke up one day and said, 'Hey, I think I'll burn my life down today'?"
He looked at her then—not like a villain, but like a brother who had been broken long before she ever realized.
"I didn't come here to explain myself to you," he said, wrapping an arm more firmly around Jess. "I came here for her. And for them," he added with a glance toward Rei, Shoto, and Natsuo.
And with that... the room fell quiet again.
Only the quiet clink of chopsticks and the soft rustle of noodles remained.
"Why didn't you come back?!" Fuyumi shouted, her voice cracking with emotion.
Jess flinched at the sudden yelling, instinctively clutching onto Dabi's sleeve in fear. The atmosphere around the table shifted immediately. Everyone could see it—Jess wasn't just startled. She was scared.
Without a word, Jess's eyes flared with light. Fuyumi gasped mid-sentence as her body was suddenly yanked downward, crashing to the floor under an invisible weight. Her limbs trembled, pinned as if gravity had multiplied tenfold. She couldn't move, couldn't breathe properly—just like Hawks had experienced days earlier.
Natsuo, Shoto, and Izuku jumped to their feet instantly, alarmed. Meanwhile, Dabi, Dawn, and Rei remained seated, calm in contrast.
Dabi sighed, casting an irritated glance at his sister still struggling on the floor. "How can you sit there and say Dad never did anything wrong?" he muttered coldly. "You think becoming a villain was my first choice? That I wanted to be on the streets, forgotten by everyone? Stain's speech gave me purpose, yeah—but I joined the League because I wanted revenge. On him."
He glanced at Jess, who was shaking with emotion beside him, the glow in her eyes still strong.
"Now it just feels like a waste of time," Dabi added softly. "I've got something better to look forward to."
Dabi reached over and brushed Jess's arm. "It's okay," he whispered. "It's not him. You're safe."
Jess's breathing slowed as her eyes fluttered shut, the glow gradually fading. Fuyumi gasped as the crushing weight lifted, her body finally free from the invisible pressure. With a small nod Jess, refusing to meet anyone's eyes as her hands trembled slightly in her lap.
Rei sat quietly for a moment, her gaze fixed on her daughter with a look of restrained disappointment. Then, in a low, firm voice, she spoke.
"Fuyumi... leave."
Fuyumi's eyes widened in shock, glassy with tears. "But Mom—!"
Natsuo exhaled heavily, rubbing his temples. "Leave, Fuyumi. You're making things worse."
Shoto, who had just taken his seat again, nodded in agreement. "You're upsetting the Princess. Can't you see? Touya-nii is the only one calming her down right now... Our yelling—your yelling—triggered her."
Fuyumi turned toward Jess, her expression softening into guilt as she took in the sight before her. Jess sat curled in her seat, trembling slightly, her face pale. Dabi had his arms gently wrapped around her shoulders, one hand rubbing slow circles along her arm.
"Breathe in... and out," Dabi murmured softly near her ear, his voice calm and steady. "That's it... You're safe. You're with me."
Jess clung to his voice like a lifeline, her breaths coming slower, steadier, as her panic began to subside.
Izuku remained frozen in place, watching the scene unfold. His chest ached seeing his cousin have a breakdown, even in the safety of Dabi's embrace.
Dawn quietly set her chopsticks down on the table with a faint clink, her tone sharp and composed. "Miss Todoroki," she said, addressing Fuyumi formally. "Please leave. And don't even think about going to your father. As part of his punishment, he is barred from all communication. His cellphones have been confiscated, the landline has been cut, and no visitors are allowed. You will not speak with him—not today, not any time soon."
Fuyumi opened her mouth to argue, but Dawn didn't give her the chance.
"Go home," she said. "Go to that apartment you've ignored for years. And think long and hard about what you just did."
Fuyumi stood in stunned silence for a moment, looking around the table—at her mother, her brothers, the royal Princess of Celtica trembling in Dabi's arms—and finally turned without another word, walking out with her head low and shoulders tense.
The room remained still, only the sound of quiet breathing and the occasional clink of ramen bowls echoing softly through the space.
Jaku General Hospital – Sublevel Quarantine Wing
The low hum of life-support machines and flickering monitors cast eerie shadows across the sterile walls. Dr. Kyudai Garaki stood beside a glowing terminal, his fingers hovering uncertainly over the screen. The room was dim, save for the eerie blue light coming from a suspended Nomu tank nearby. A speaker crackled to life beside him.
"All For One," he greeted stiffly.
The voice on the other end oozed menace, calm yet laced with irritation.
"Why hasn't Tomura and his group retrieved the Princess yet?"
Kyudai stiffened. "Sir... I regret to inform you, I was expelled from the villa," he said carefully. "After what happened... after they discovered what Tomura did to her... his lieutenants turned against us. They destroyed the room he kept her in. I was no longer welcome."
There was a long silence on the other end before All For One spoke again, quieter this time, but far more dangerous.
"You let them turn on my plans? On me?"
The doctor's fingers trembled slightly, but he composed himself. "I managed to extract the details from a lower-ranking thug before they caught on. Mister Compress has taken it upon himself to begin psychological therapy sessions with Tomura. The group is trying to... rehabilitate him."
A sharp exhale came through the speaker. All For One's tone dipped to ice.
"I'm not pleased, Doctor. That girl is the key. I want the Princess back. I want her , and I want Tomura to give me an heir. Multiple heirs. The bloodline must continue."
Garaki flinched but remained silent.
"If his inner circle won't listen, then we'll take the boy by force. Send a Nomu. Have it retrieve him—subdue if necessary. Bring him back by you." There was a pause, then: "Fix what Compress did. Strip the therapy. Erase the guilt. I want his loyalty to me, and his obsession with her, fully intact. Make him believe they betrayed him. Make him believe they took his Jess away."
The line went dead with a sharp click.
Garaki stared at the speaker, his expression grim. The weight of the command hung heavy in the air as he turned back toward the Nomu tank, cold light reflecting in his lenses.
"...As you command, Master."
League of Villains Villa – Tomura's Room
The room was quiet, the soft hum of the heater the only sound breaking the silence. Steam still clung faintly to the air, curling off the walls from the hot shower Tomura had just taken. His white hair, damp and clinging to the sides of his face, stuck to his forehead and neck in thin strands. He sat on the edge of the bed in nothing but a dark shirt and sweats, hunched over with his knees drawn up, spine curved like a question mark carved in grief.
The therapy session with Compress had ended an hour ago. It had been calm, quieter than the last ones, but his mind was anything but.
A week...
Compress had told him—gently—that he had a week to decide. A week to face what he had done. To come forward. Turn himself in. Make amends.
But how did one begin to undo the kind of damage he caused?
Tomura leaned back, letting his skull tap softly against the wall behind him. The ceramic tile was cool, a stark contrast to the burning inside his chest. He closed his eyes, breathing in slowly.
He could still smell her. Lavender and lemon. That faint blend lingered in his memory like a curse and a comfort. Her skin had been so soft under his fingers. The way she shivered, the quiet, broken sounds she made—he had convinced himself once that it was affection.
But now, he knew better.
He dug his nails into the sleeves of his shirt, curling his fists tight. Hawks' words from yesterday wouldn't leave him alone.
"She is suffering through a miscarriage."
Gone.
The word echoed in his skull, louder than any explosion, more painful than any wound. A child—his child—had been lost. Not just because of circumstance... but because of him. Because of what he'd done. The weight of it pressed down on him, and for the first time in years, Tomura felt small. Not as a villain. Not as a leader.
Just... a broken man who had shattered the one person he might've truly loved.
Tears welled up in his crimson eyes and spilled over silently, tracing warm paths down his scarred cheeks. His chest rose and fell with uneven breaths as he buried his face against his knees, shoulders trembling.
"I'm sorry..." he whispered, voice hoarse and cracking. "Jess... I didn't mean to... I just wanted you to stay..."
But she was gone.
And for the first time, he wasn't sure if he deserved to get her back.
Unbeknownst to Tomura, as he sat curled in silent anguish, the air behind him began to warp. A low hum pulsed from the shadows, distorting the dim lighting of his room. The space behind the bed rippled like water disturbed by a stone, and from it, an oily black void began to bloom.
A dark portal cracked into existence—silent, hungry, and cold.
From its center emerged grotesque, gnarled limbs—Nomu hands, veiny and twitching with unnatural precision. They slithered forward like the legs of a spider, inching toward their target with eerie patience.
Tomura never heard them coming.
His breath hitched in his throat as the hands latched onto his shoulders, then his arms, yanking him backward with terrifying speed. His scream barely escaped his lips—cut off as he was violently dragged through the portal.
The swirling void snapped shut with a hiss of air, leaving nothing behind.
No echo.
No trace.
Just an empty room...
Chapter 12
Notes:
(Warning: Sexual scene between Jess and Dabi near the end of the chapter. Please vote! Kudo's! Comments! if you notice any errors or double parts let me know! Enjoy this amazing Chapter!)
Chapter Text
The Villa, for once, had been calm. The television murmured in the background, soft static flickering between programs. Spinner flipped idly through a worn comic book, feet propped on the coffee table. Compress was quietly brewing tea in the kitchen. Geten, perched near the window, observed the falling leaves with a distant, almost meditative expression.
The fragile peace shattered in an instant.
Heavy footsteps thundered down the hall—rapid, erratic, almost desperate. A door slammed open with a loud crack, startling everyone inside. Skeptic burst into the main lounge, face pale and drenched in a sheen of cold sweat, his breathing ragged like he had sprinted across a battlefield. In one trembling hand, he clutched his tablet, the screen still glowing.
"Tomura is gone!" he blurted, voice laced with sheer panic.
Everyone turned.
"What?" Spinner shot up from the couch, eyes narrowing.
Skeptic stormed forward, thrusting the tablet toward them. "He's gone. Taken—kidnapped—right out of his room! I had a surveillance feed running—just to be sure he stayed put during this whole ridiculous 'grounded' nonsense—and this..." He paused, finger jabbing the replay button.
The video looped.
Tomura, freshly showered, hair still damp, sat quietly on the edge of his bed, staring at the floor in silence. And then—it appeared. A thick, swirling black void opened behind him without warning, pulsing with unstable energy. Out from the darkness came a pair of grotesque, elongated Nomu arms, glistening with muscle and decay. They moved fast—too fast to resist—and snatched him back into the portal like a ragdoll.
Tomura didn't even scream.
The portal sealed behind him with a sickening ripple, leaving nothing but the soft rustle of displaced air and the echo of silence.
Spinner stepped forward, eyes glued to the surveillance footage still looping across Skeptic's tablet. His breath hitched, disbelief twisting his features. "What the hell was that?!"
Skeptic's voice was raw, barely more than a whisper. "It was the doctor... It had to be. Who else has access to a Nomu like that? Who else would have the nerve to just take Shigaraki?"
A heavy silence fell over the room, the kind that crawled under the skin—tight and suffocating.
Mr. Compress stood slowly, his gloved hand curling into a clenched fist. "Then All For One... he's taken him back," he said grimly. "He's reclaimed Tomura."
Geten turned away from the frost-touched window, his gaze sharp and unreadable. "So what now?" he asked, his voice low and steady. "What the hell are we supposed to do?"
Spinner's shoulders tensed, trembling with contained rage. "We stood by him. After everything—what happened to her, the breakdowns, the therapy—we gave him time, space, support!" His voice cracked. "And now that bastard just shows up and drags him off like a discarded doll?!"
"He never gave a damn about Tomura," Skeptic snapped, bitterness laced through every word. "All For One only ever cared about control. Over Tomura. Over us. Over the Princess. And now that she's gone..." He trailed off, his jaw tight. "There's nothing left to hold him back."
Mr. Compress exhaled, shaking his head beneath the low glow of the overhead lights. "We don't know what he's planning," he said firmly. "But we can't sit on our hands and wait to find out."
He reached into his coat and pulled out his phone just as the door creaked open.
Twice strolled in, blinking at the tense room. "Wow, what's with all the long faces?" he asked in his usual tone. "Everyone looks like they saw a ghost! Not that I care—unless it's important, then I do care!"
Spinner didn't look at him. His voice was flat. "The doctor took Tomura."
Twice's expression faltered, the grin slipping off his face. "What...?"
The sterile hum of Jaku General Hospital was shattered as a swirling black vortex tore through the air with a warped screech, sending a pulse of unease rippling through the empty corridor. From its writhing center, a hulking Nomu emerged—its grotesque form hunched and steaming—before unceremoniously hurling a limp, half-dressed Tomura Shigaraki onto the cold, tiled floor like discarded meat.
Tomura landed hard with a guttural grunt, the air knocked from his lungs. He coughed, claws scraping the floor as he pushed himself upright. Rage surged in his veins. His blood sang with fury.
"What the hell—" he snarled, and without hesitation, his hand shot out.
The Nomu dissolved into dust.
Ash scattered across the floor like snow from a dying storm.
Behind him, a familiar voice rang out, smooth and placating.
"Tomura... there was no need for that."
He whirled around, chest heaving, and found himself face to face with Dr. Kyudai Garaki—watching him with that ever-present, clinical detachment. As if he were merely a subject under glass.
Tomura's crimson eyes narrowed with venom. "Why did you bring me here?!" he spat, voice shaking with raw emotion. "I didn't ask to be dragged back!"
Before the doctor could answer, a voice echoed from the mounted speaker above, deeper and far more sinister.
"Tomura."
His entire body stiffened. The voice was calm, composed, but it sliced through him like a blade dipped in ice.
"...Sensei?"
All For One's tone didn't waver. "Why haven't you gone after your wife?"
Tomura's breath caught. The question hit him like a freight train to the chest. He staggered back a step, clutching his side.
"I gave her to you," the voice continued. "She was your responsibility, your reward. So tell me, why are you sitting idle while she hides from you?"
Tomura's eyes burned. His voice trembled. "You made me do those things to her..."
"Did I?" All For One asked, smoothly. "Did I tell you to touch her like that? Did I command you to take her body against her will?"
Tomura's hands curled into fists so tight his nails dug into his palms. His throat felt like it was closing.
"I—I didn't mean to hurt her like that. I loved her," he said, his voice cracking. "I still love her—but not like that. Not... twisted like you taught me."
Garaki raised an eyebrow slightly but said nothing.
All For One's voice turned soft—almost melodic, a whisper that slithered under the skin.
"Don't you want her back, Tomura? Don't you still crave her? The way she looked at you? The way she clung to you in the dark...?"
Tomura's knees nearly buckled. A cold sweat broke over his brow.
"Stop it," he hissed, shaking his head violently. "Stop talking about her like she's mine—like she's some damn object."
But then, something snapped into place in his mind like a jagged puzzle piece forced into alignment. His blood went cold.
His eyes locked on the doctor, wide and haunted.
"You..." he breathed. "Did you know she was allergic to Luminite?"
Garaki froze mid-step, blinking like he'd just been struck.
"What...?"
Tomura's voice cracked, barely above a whisper now.
"The cuffs. The Luminite bands you and Sensei put on her." His breathing hitched. "She's allergic. That's why she got fevers... why she kept collapsing. Why she couldn't breathe. You poisoned her."
The silence that followed was immediate and suffocating.
Garaki paled. His hands trembled at his sides as the weight of what Tomura said sank in.
"N-No one told me... I wasn't informed. That must've been classified—kept in the royal medical files. I never knew. I swear it..."
"I found out she..." Tomura's voice cracked, raw with agony. He couldn't hold it back anymore. "She had a miscarriage..."
His hands balled into shaking fists at his sides, nails biting into his palms. The words were choking him, burning his throat as they came. "Hawks was told—by Dabi. She's been with him this whole time. He's the one who acted. He got her out—with Toga's help."
He stepped forward, chest heaving as his eyes glistened—not with fury, but devastation. "She was in pain... and it was him who held her through it. Not me. Him. While I..." his voice broke, "...while I stood here, drowning in lies, in manipulation.."
"I lost a child," he whispered, his voice nearly shattered. "My child... because of what you made me do!"
His body trembled, muscles tense and unstable as he turned toward the speaker—toward Garaki and the shadows behind his words. "I can see it clearly now. So many thoughts in my head—none of them mine. Why would I do that to her? Why?! I would've died before hurting her like that. And yet I did. I let you twist what I felt. You weaponized it!"
His breathing was uneven, heart racing painfully in his chest.
"You manipulated everything. The guilt, the rage, the need to protect her—you used it all to make me into a monster."
There was a pause. A long, cold silence.
Then, All For One's voice returned—low, emotionless, and final.
"...Kyudai. Do it."
The line cut off with a sharp click.
Tomura blinked, confused for a fraction of a second—until he heard it.
Phht!
A quick, compressed hiss. Something sharp pierced his neck. His breath hitched as he instinctively reached for the spot just below his jaw—his fingers brushing against the end of a small dart lodged in his skin.
His vision blurred.
"Wha—wait..."
The drug hit like a crashing wave. His knees buckled. His limbs went heavy, his balance gone. The sterile scent of the hospital walls suddenly grew distant, muffled, like he was sinking underwater.
"Wh...at did you do...?" he slurred, falling forward.
Garaki didn't answer. He just stood there, silent, eyes hard behind his lenses.
Tomura hit the tile floor with a dull thud, his breath leaving him in a shallow gasp.
The last thing he saw before the blackness swallowed him—was the doctor's shadow looming over him, and the faint glint of regret in his eyes.
And then—nothing.
The air in the cafeteria had finally settled, warm and calm, filled with the quiet clinking of chopsticks against bowls now mostly empty. The aroma of savory miso and roasted mushrooms still lingered faintly, though the tension from earlier had long since faded with Fuyumi's departure. Jess sat close to Dabi, her legs curled to the side beneath the table as she gently leaned into his shoulder, her hand wrapped securely in his. The guards lingered respectfully in the background, keeping their distance while giving the group their privacy.
Rei, sitting across from them, set her finished bowl aside. The steam from her tea curled in delicate ribbons past her face, but her eyes were clear now—focused. She reached across the table slowly, placing her frail but steady hand atop Dabi's.
"Touya..." she said softly, her voice like frost melting under sunlight. "Please... tell us what happened to you."
Everyone went still.
Natsuo looked up from his phone and set it aside without a word. Shoto, quietly sipping the last of his broth, lowered the bowl and watched his brother with steady eyes. Even Izuku, usually one to fidget or glance away, remained completely still. All eyes were on Dabi now.
For a moment, Touya didn't move.
His jaw tightened, his burned skin pulling slightly as he glanced down at Rei's hand over his own. The contrast between her pale, untouched fingers and his scarred flesh was striking. He blinked once, then inhaled deeply through his nose, the breath shaking slightly.
"...You want the truth?" he asked quietly, eyes still lowered.
Rei gave a tiny nod. "Only if you're ready."
He leaned back in his seat, letting go of Jess's hand for a moment to rake his fingers through his hair. "I should've died," he said simply. "I did die, in a way. The forest, the flames, my skin... I pushed my quirk too far and lost everything. Everything."
The cafeteria was silent, everyone watching him as he stared down at the table. His eyes didn't meet anyone's.
"It happened when I was thirteen. I climbed Sekoto Peak — thought if I could just show him, if I could just prove how strong I was, he'd see me. I burned too hot. Lost control. My body gave out, and I fell."
His voice went quieter.
"I remember the pain. I remember fire. My skin peeling. My screams... and then nothing."
A pause.
"I should've died up there. That's what everyone thought. However, I didn't die. I tired to jumped into a nearby creak, desperate to calm the flames—not because I was afraid of dying, but because I couldn't die yet. Not before showing the old man what I could do."
He tightened his grip on Jess's hand as he spoke, his voice low and bitter.
"I managed to survive, but I was left with severe burns all over my body. Eventually, I was found and taken in by All For One."
Eyes around the table widened in stunned silence. Jess gave his hand a gentle squeeze and held it tighter.
"I was comatose for three years. When I finally woke up, I found myself in a nursery, surrounded by kids who looked shocked to see me awake. I was even more shocked when I realized how much time had passed—and that my voice had changed. All I wanted was to go home."
His expression darkened.
"But then some weirdo with a flower for a head—one of the attendants there—told me I couldn't go home. Said I lived with them now, and they'd be my new family."
Dabi scoffed at the memory, shaking his head.
"I was pissed. Then All For One appeared on a monitor and told me my body was too damaged. Said they had to replace missing parts of me with regenerative tissues. He told me my organs were wrecked, my nerves dulled—I couldn't even feel pain anymore. Said I was a failure. A failure."
His jaw clenched, anger bubbling just beneath the surface.
"I ran away from that hospital, of course. Made it back to my old home. But everyone thought I was dead. And what did I find when I got there? That the old man was still at it—still abusing Shoto, still chasing that perfect masterpiece."
He paused, swallowing hard.
"So I let Touya die. I let him burn away with that mountain and everything I lost. I became Dabi—with a new name, a new purpose."
He glanced down at Jess again, then back at the others.
"I lived on the streets for a while. At eighteen, I got into a fight with some thugs and ended up injured. I jumped into the sewers, trying to escape. That's where an old veteran found me. He had a healing quirk and patched me up without asking questions. When he passed, he left me his bunker—the same place Jess and I are staying now."
He gave Jess's hand another squeeze before continuing.
"At twenty-one, I got hit by some guy with a powerhouse quirk. Cracked ribs. Punctured lung. Vi—an underground doctor—patched me up again. Then, at twenty-two, I got hit in the face with a metal door and dislocated my jaw. The metal piece in my face popped out completely. Vi had to remove it and call in a bone specialist to rebuild my lower jawbone and teeth."
He leaned back, voice low but steady now.
"After that... I joined the League. Not because I believed in them, but because I needed something. I wanted revenge. I wanted the old man to feel what I did. But now?"
His eyes softened as he looked at Jess.
"I have something more important than revenge."
Jess giggled softly, leaning into Dabi's side with a warm smile lighting up her face. Without hesitation, Dabi turned and gently kissed her forehead—right there in front of everyone.
Rei gasped quietly, her hands flying up to cover her mouth. "My baby... is in love?" she whispered, eyes welling with emotion.
Natsuo grinned from ear to ear, slurping the last bit of his broth. "It's cute, huh?"
Shoto blinked, stunned silent by the display. Next to him, Izuku flushed a deep red, clearly caught off guard by the tenderness between the two.
Dawn, who had been watching from her seat with a regal stillness, finally let a soft smile bloom across her face. Her eyes held both pride and relief. "After everything that's happened to you," she said gently, "you still found love, huh?"
Jess gave a shy nod, her fingers nervously tightening around the fabric of Dabi's sleeve. "The only reason why Natsuo knew Touya was alive before anyone else," she began, her voice barely above a whisper, "was because... Touya had to call someone he trusted."
Her eyes dropped to her lap as the air around the table grew still again.
"I was suffering from a miscarriage."
The words landed like a stone in water—soft but with rippling weight.
Natsuo looked down, his smile fading into a quiet solemnity. Shoto's mouth parted slightly in shock, and Izuku reached across the table to touch his hand. Rei's hand moved instinctively to her chest. And Dawn's eyes darkened.
Dabi said nothing, just placed his hand over Jess's, grounding her.
She didn't need to say more—not yet.
"So... Shigaraki's abuse was far worse than what Toga told us," Dawn said quietly, her gaze resting on her daughter.
Jess gave a small nod, her eyes lowering to the table, unable to meet anyone's gaze. The heaviness of the truth lingered in the air.
Dawn slowly stood, brushing her palms together as she glanced at the time. "I think we've all had quite a long morning—and now a very emotional early afternoon. It's already past 3 p.m." Her voice softened. "Touya, sweetheart, why don't you and Jess head back to the bunker? Spend the rest of her birthday together. You both deserve that."
She turned to face the Todoroki siblings and Izuku. "And please... keep Dabi's true identity—Touya Todoroki—a secret. I have a feeling our families are more intertwined than we ever imagined." Her tone shifted slightly as she added, "Now I have to go tell your father and brother."
Jess groaned, dragging a hand down her face. "Mom, please—don't tell Sora! I don't need his overbearing sister complex threatening to murder Touya."
She mimicked her brother's voice with a dramatic flair, "'Touch my sweet baby sister and I'll put one in between your eyes.'"
Dawn chuckled softly, clearly amused despite the situation. "I have to, darling. He deserves to be updated—he's been worried sick."
Jess sighed and pushed her chair back. "Fine... Come on, Touya. Let's head home."
Dabi let out a quiet chuckle as he rose to his feet, pulling his hood over his head and slipping his signature half-mask back into place. "Later," he said casually, offering a brief wave. "Bye, Mom... Shoto, Natsuo, Izuku."
Jess took his hand as they made their way out, fingers laced tightly with his. The soft echo of their footsteps slowly faded down the hospital corridor.
Hawks landed lightly on the gravel path just outside the villa, his wings folding behind him with practiced ease. The call from Mr. Compress had sounded urgent—too urgent to ignore. He scanned the quiet exterior, tension prickling at the back of his neck.
Out of the corner of his eye, a glimmer of blue caught his attention. His head snapped to the side—and there she was.
"L-Lady River?!" he squawked, stumbling a half step back. His voice cracked slightly, feathers ruffling. "What are you—?"
River Dovahkiin tilted her head, her dragon-scale-lined coat catching the sunlight in soft ripples of blue and silver. A soft, amused chuckle escaped her lips. "Still adorable how you squeak like a bird when startled."
Hawks turned a deep shade of crimson. "I do not squeak," he muttered, clearly flustered. "Wait—did you follow me?"
She offered a subtle nod, the barest trace of a smirk curving her lips. "I overheard your phone call. You weren't exactly quiet."
He groaned under his breath but didn't argue. After all, it was River. She didn't follow rules—she was the exception.
"So," she continued, hands folding behind her back as she strolled forward with calm authority, "shall we go see what the Liberation Front's lieutenants have to say about Tomura Shigaraki?"
Hawks exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah. Let's get some answers."
Together, the two of them moved toward the entrance, the tension in the air mounting with every step. Inside, truths were waiting—and maybe regrets too.
Hawks sighed but didn't argue. They pushed open the door.
Inside, the main lounge was alive with scattered energy. Spinner was pacing near the wall, Geten stood stiffly by a shattered window, Skeptic hunched over a laptop while Compress stood at the center, arms crossed. They all turned as the door opened.
"You're finally here," Compress said, stepping forward.
"I got here as fast as I could," Hawks replied. "You said Shigaraki's been taken?"
"By the Doctor," Skeptic answered grimly, his fingers flying across his laptop. "We caught it on one of my surveillance feeds. A portal opened in his room. A Nomu pulled him through. The moment was precise—calculated."
"And you're sure it wasn't voluntary?" Hawks asked, already knowing the answer.
Spinner shook his head, eyes still wide. "He didn't know it was coming. He screamed."
Compress nodded. "That's why I called you. Whatever All For One's planning... it's starting again."
Hawks's jaw clenched, but before he could speak, River stepped forward.
All heads turned.
"Who the hell—" Skeptic began, but Hawks cut him off.
"This is Lady River Dovahkiin. Second Grand Knight of Celtica."
"The Dragon Knight?" Geten said under his breath.
"She's real?" Spinner whispered.
"I'm standing right here," River said evenly, her voice slicing through the room like the edge of a blade. "And I was Princess Jess's combat mentor for over a decade. I've trained both her and her brother, the Prince, since they were five—twenty styles of martial arts, quirk discipline, and the ancient Chinese methods of energy channeling and combat meditation. Jess is my number one student—she even beats her brother by five points."
She paused, letting the weight of that statement settle.
"If it hadn't been for those cursed Luminite cuffs and that Nomu alongside Shigaraki, she would've killed him and escaped on day one. Make no mistake—what happened to her wasn't because she was weak. She needs more training, yes. But the responsibility lies with those who chained her."
The room stood in stunned silence. Spinner's mouth hung slightly ajar. Skeptic's fingers hovered frozen over his keyboard. Geten remained unreadable, though his pale blue eyes tracked River's every movement.
Compress, ever composed, gave a slow, respectful nod. "Y-Yes... That lines up with what we've come to realize."
River didn't respond right away. Instead, she pulled something from the inner lining of her coat—a small, spherical metallic orb about the size of a pool ball. Sleek, polished, and laced with glowing blue circuitry, it whirred softly as she held it up.
"Avatora."
With a quiet hum, the orb's core lit up, forming a soft, circular interface. The air shimmered faintly as a projection of light-blue data lines spiraled around it.
"Yes, Lady River?" a calm, crystalline voice responded.
"Call Princess Dawn," River commanded. "Priority level—Royal Alert."
The orb pulsed once in acknowledgement and began the call, floating gently in the air between them.
Everyone watched in fascinated silence.
Spinner leaned toward Compress. "Did that ball just talk?"
"That's not a ball," River said without turning her head. "That's Avatora—the AI brain of Celtica, the only one of her kind. Who do you think hacked into the commission so quickly?"
The room tensed.
A faint chime echoed as the connection began to stabilize—Avatora's face starting to materialize, lines of light forming a holographic silhouette of a tall, elegant female figure.
"Connecting to Princess Dawn Mikcloud-Kuran now..."
Inside the sleek royal limousine, Dawn Mikcloud Kuran sat with a tablet resting on her lap, scrolling through classified updates from the Hero Commission's recent dismantling. She had only just left Fujitani Hospital after visiting Rei, her children—and to her relief—Jess and Dabi, who had finally emerged from hiding. The vehicle's quiet hum was interrupted by a sharp chime echoing through the interior—Avatora's secure transmission frequency.
Above the tablet, a shimmering holographic interface flickered to life, revealing the crystalline, polished form of Avatora in full projection. Her expression was calm as ever, glowing circuits tracing her humanoid form like living silver.
"Princess Dawn," Avatora said evenly, "You have an urgent transmission from Lady River Dovahkiin."
Dawn arched a brow, already intrigued. "Put her through."
The projection shifted. River's face appeared in sharp clarity, framed by the cold, minimal interior of the Paranormal Liberation Front's villa. Her cyan, dragon-slit pupils glowed faintly under the harsh lighting, but her tone remained calm and deliberate.
"Your Highness," River began, "I'm here at the villa with Hawks. We've just confirmed that a Nomu—most likely under Dr. Garaki's command—has forcibly taken Shigaraki from his room. It happened within the last hour."
Dawn's expression hardened immediately. "Taken by a Nomu?" she echoed, her voice taut. "Why now?"
"Because Compress contacted Hawks," River said without missing a beat. "He suspected All For One was moving pieces again. Seems he was right."
Dawn pressed her fingertips against her forehead and sighed quietly, the weight of unfolding strategy already anchoring in her mind. "And their reaction?"
River's lips twitched with something between irony and warning. "They're rattled. Spinner is seething. Compress is pacing the room. Skeptic's already running a hundred silent calculations. They're scared, Your Highness. They don't know what All For One has planned... but with Shigaraki gone, the entire villa is on edge."
Dawn's emerald eyes sharpened, cold and resolute. "I'll alert James and Sora—then call Yuki and get him here from New York. I think All For One has had more than enough time to rot in Tartarus."
River gave a crisp nod. "Understood. I'll maintain contact through Avatora."
"Good," Dawn said, her tone cold and commanding.
The transmission ended. Dawn closed the tablet with a quiet snap, her mind already racing through layered contingency plans as the limo veered onto the main highway. Her voice cut through the interior speaker with firm precision.
"Head straight for Tartarus. We're going to pay an old pest a visit."
The comforting warmth of the bunker wrapped around them like a heavy quilt. Gone were the playful Halloween pajamas; now the space carried a richer intimacy—quiet, grounded, and real. The air was thick with the mouthwatering scent of slow-cooked herbs and savory broth from the mushroom pot roast simmering in the corner. It smelled like something out of an old Celtican tavern—earthy, deep, and nostalgic.
Dabi stood at the small kitchen area, dressed in nothing but a fitted black tank top and a pair of worn boxers. The soft glow from the overhead light flickered off the faint sheen of steam rising from the crock pot. He lifted the lid, letting the fragrant aroma wash over him, and exhaled slowly through his nose.
"This smells amazing..." he murmured to himself, his voice low and content. Replacing the lid, he stepped away from the pot and turned toward the sleeping area.
Jess stood at the edge of the bed, her back to him. Her braid had been undone, and the waves of raspberry-red hair cascaded down her back, reaching just past her hips. She wore one of his old Black Sabaoth shirts—it hung loosely on her frame, falling to her thighs—and a pair of fitted women's boxer briefs that hugged her curves. She was combing through her hair slowly, lost in thought, the soft strokes of the brush the only sound between them.
Dabi paused, momentarily caught off guard by the quiet beauty of the moment. The faint hum of the crock pot, the subtle rustle of fabric, the gentle rhythm of her brushing—all of it felt oddly grounding. Familiar. Safe.
Moving slowly so as not to startle her, he approached from behind. Jess didn't flinch. When her back met his chest, she only blinked in mild surprise, then smiled faintly, continuing to run the brush through her hair.
Dabi's hands came to rest gently on her sides. His thumbs brushed slow, easy circles against the soft fabric of the shirt, his fingers splaying out across her waist. Jess hummed in response, a peaceful sound, leaning just slightly into his touch. Her smile lingered—content, trusting, and calm.
Dabi reached over to the small table near the bed, picking up his phone and unlocking it with a swipe. With a few taps, he connected it to the Bluetooth speaker tucked neatly into the corner of the bunker. The low chime confirmed the connection, followed by a second of silence before the beat dropped.
A pulsing electronic rhythm suddenly filled the space—the unmistakable opening of "Blood Rave" from Blade. The heavy bass echoed through the room, vibrating through the floor and walls. Jess gasped, surprised, but didn't turn around. Instead, her lips curved into a smirk as she began to sway slightly, still facing away from him.
"Of course you'd put on the most kickass club song ever made," she said with a playful lilt, her voice nearly drowned out by the music. She tossed the brush gently onto the new black saucer chair folded nearby, the bristles catching the dim light.
Dabi smirked, stepping in closer behind her. His hands found her waist again, fingers pressing gently into the fabric of his oversized shirt draped over her. Together, they began to move to the rhythm—slow at first, a subtle back-and-forth sway that felt more like an unspoken exchange than a dance.
The lights in the bunker were low, the shadows dancing with them as they moved in sync, the scent of the pot roast curling lazily in the background like a reminder of comfort and home. Despite the thumping beat of the music, everything between them felt... quiet. Grounded. Intimate.
And for a moment, in the underworld depths of the city, hidden away from war, politics, and the weight of their pasts—Jess and Dabi simply existed. Together.
Jess turned around at last, her raspberry-red hair cascading down her back as her emerald eyes met his. A playful glint shimmered in her gaze as she placed her hands on Dabi's shoulders and pulled him closer. Her hips began to sway in time with the pulsing beat of the music, her legs brushing against his as the rhythm of Blood Bath filled the soundproof bunker.
Dabi's breath hitched. His hands instinctively slid down to her waist, fingers settling on her hips. He moved with her, their bodies syncing to the music as if it were second nature. Jess hummed softly, the sound caught between a laugh and a purr, her eyes never leaving his. Her hands traced slowly down his shoulders, across his chest.
With a teasing smirk, she looked up at him, fingertips gliding over his bare chest, her fingers moving across the lines of purple scared skin and stapled grafts.
"You're not... freaked out by this?" he asked, voice low and uncertain.
Jess shook her head, her smile softening as she leaned in. "No," she whispered, "you're still handsome, Touya Todoroki."
A breath of laughter escaped him. Without breaking eye contact, he gently lifted her and laid her down on the bed, careful and slow.
"You sure you're okay?" he asked, hovering above her, searching her expression. "After what happened... with Shigaraki... I just—"
Jess reached up, cupping his face in both hands, her thumbs gently brushing the damaged skin beneath his eyes.
"You're not him," she said firmly. "I know that. I trust you, Touya."
He let out a sigh of relief, then leaned down and pressed his lips to hers.
Jess responded in kind, wrapping her arms around his neck, drawing him closer. Her lips parted, welcoming him deeper, and a soft moan escaped her as their tongues met. He pulled her in tight, one hand cradling the back of her head while the other traveled down her back. He paused, his fingers teasing at the hem of her oversized shirt.
Jess giggled against his lips, her own hands exploring the planes of his back. In one smooth movement, Jess's shirt was slowly pulled off her. Dabi tosses it on the floor. Dabi in his boxers, Jess in her women's boxer briefs and of course no Bra.. Dabi's hands travel up and down her sides.
Dabi leans over her, kissing her neck, down her collarbone, his mouth moving to her breast. He takes her nipple into his mouth and swirls his tongue around it. Jess moans, arching her back. He continues moving down, kissing her stomach. He stops at her belly button and looks up at her. Jess is panting, her eyes closed. Dabi smiles and hooks his fingers into her boxer briefs.
He pulls them off slowly, then kisses the inside of her thigh, and runs his tongue along her wet pussy lips. Jess lets out a gasp as Dabi pushes his tongue inside her. His thumb rubs her clit as he eats her out. Jess moans and pants, her hands gripping the sheets.
She bucks her hips as his tongue explores every part of her. Dabi grabs her hips, holding her in place as he devours her. Jess arches her back and cries out. Dabi pulled away making Jess pant. Dabi moves back up her body, kissing her, tasting her on his lips.
Jess grabs his boxers, tugging them down, releasing his massive cock. It throbs, hot and thick, against her leg, she could feel something metal. Blinking "You have your cock pierced?"
Dabi grins "Jacobs Latter babe, can you think you can take the five rows?". Dabi reaches between her legs, running his fingers over her wet folds. He presses two fingers into her and slowly pumps them in and out. Jess gasps and moans, rocking her hips.
He keeps going, watching her face as her eyes roll back. Jess reaches down and starts stroking his cock. Her grip is firm, and her pace quickens, matching his fingers. Dabi moans and bucks his hips. Jess is panting, her head rolling side to side.
"Touya...fuck me..." she whispers.
Dabi pulls his fingers out and rubs her clit, as he reached out to the nightstand. Opening he takes out lube. Jess blinked "When did you get that....?" Dabi smirks at her. "When I went shopping babe.". Dabi lubed up his cock and lined himself up with her. Jess wraps her arms around his neck. Dabi slowly enters her.
Jess whimpers and holds her breath. Dabi stops and kisses her softly. He rocks his hips, easing himself deeper. Jess moans deeply "T-Touya...".
Dabi groans and keeps going, feeling her wet heat wrapped around him. She's so tight and hot, he feels like he could come right now. But he holds back, wanting her to feel good too. He kisses her neck and sucks on her earlobe.
"Ahh, you feel amazing. So tight and wet." he whispers into her ear. This was literally his first time. Jess blushes "So do you...". Jess begins to rock her hips, trying to meet his thrusts. Dabi moans and starts picking up speed, thrusting harder and faster. Jess is moaning loudly, and her hands are digging into his shoulders.
"T-Touya, fuck!"
Dabi's hips are slapping against hers as he thrusts, and his balls are slapping her ass. "Fuck... J-Jess..." he growls.
He reaches down and rubs her clit, sending jolts of pleasure through her body. Jess cries out, her body shaking.
"C-come for me, baby..." Dabi groans, his thrusts becoming more erratic.
Jess screams as her orgasm rips through her. She's shuddering and panting, and her pussy is squeezing his cock like a vice. Dabi was still hard as have not cummed yet. Jess's pussy clenches his cock as she rides out her orgasm, her legs twitching.
Dabi kisses her passionately, his tongue exploring her mouth. He's close now. His cock throbs and aches. He breaks the kiss and rests his forehead against hers. "Fuck... you're so beautiful, Jess." as he pulls her up, holding her making her hold on to him.
Dabi begins pounding her, hard and fast. Jess moans loudly as his cock slams into her g-spot, sending shockwaves of pleasure through her. Fuck the Dabi's Jacob ladder feeling so amazing...His cock piercings were so good. Flipping them over, Jess was sitting on him. she blinked down at him as he smirked up at her "ride me..?"
Jess nodded, taking him deep and riding him hard. His hands grip her hips and guide her. She throws her head back and cries out. "Touya! Oh my god!" She was dancing on his cock while the music switched into Black Sabbath.
Dabi's breathing quickens, his cock throbbing., his hands went to her hips gripping it. His quirk slowly active, fuck it felt so good. Jess moans softly "T-Touya... your blue flames... careful.... not to burn me...? Fuck! Yes!"
Dabi nods, his eyes glowing a bright blue. He groans as the heat radiates off his body. His fingers dig into her skin, and he slams his hips up, pounding her.
Jess gasps "I'm gonna come....!"
Dabi grips her hips, keeping her in place, and pounds her relentlessly. Jess's orgasm hits her hard, and she moans, her whole body shaking. Her pussy clamps down on his cock, and she shudders. Dabi's orgasm hits him hard, and he lets out a moan. His cock explodes inside her, and he fills her up with his cum. Jess sat there moaning feeling his cum. Who knew his cum would be warm like his quirk... Falling forward on him, she shook in pleasure. This was nothing like Shigaraki who forced himself on her. Dabi was better, so much better. She loved him. Dabi's hands gently rubs her hips and sides still coming off his major orgasm.
Dabi kissed her and she returned it. Jess laid on him as he pulled her in for another kiss.
Jess smiled against his lips. "T-Touya that was fucking amazing...".
Dabi laughed, and hugged her, holding her tight. Jess smiled "I love you Touya..". Dabi looked her in the eyes "Jess... I love you too.
Tartarus Prison, 6 PM
A low, resonant hum vibrated through the reinforced steel corridors of Tartarus. Inside the security command room, the warden stood with his arms crossed, eyes narrowed as he stared through the thick glass window that overlooked the prison's storm-wracked shoreline. His usual scowl deepened.
"What the hell...?" he muttered.
The grey skies above the isolated prison darkened further as powerful shadows blotted out the light. One by one, warning lights flickered on across the control panels. Alarms didn't blare, but something worse did—silence. The kind that signaled someone too important to oppose had arrived.
The guards behind the warden rushed to the monitors. One gasped, another cursed under his breath.
"Sir—outside!" one of the guards barked.
Outside the towering walls of Tartarus, a massive silhouette had descended like a phantom out of the clouds. A Celtican Royal Helicarrier, sleek and obsidian black with glowing blue trim, hovered directly above the facility, casting its immense shadow across the prison courtyard. Its engines, nearly silent due to advanced tech, pulsed with a rhythmic thrum that vibrated through the prison like a heartbeat.
Flanking it on either side were two Celtican Guard sky stalkers—sleek, spear-shaped aircraft bristling with defensive shields and stealth weaponry.
On the ground, several military vehicles bearing both Celtican and Japanese Royal Military insignias parked with precision outside the high-security gates. Rows of soldiers in midnight-black armor lined up in formation, Luminite-forged halberds slung across their backs.
At their head stood Sir Frank Valkyrie, First Grand Knight of Celtica, his six radiant wings spread in a blinding display of controlled Sanctikinesis energy. His violet eyes scanned the perimeter with calm authority.
Standing beside him on the tarmac was Princess Dawn Mikcloud Kuran She wore a commanding ensemble that blended battle-readiness with aristocratic flair: a sleek, dark overcoat with a magenta-lined interior that fluttered dramatically behind her. Beneath it, a crisp white blouse was cinched at the waist with a corseted belt engraved in silver filigree. Her high-waisted black shorts were adorned with ornate stitching and armored detailing, while thigh-high sheer stockings were crossed with magenta straps and reinforced garters—both stylish and symbolic of her dual roles as ruler and warrior.
Her knee-high, heeled boots clicked sharply against the steel floor, each step radiating confidence. A violet-pink ruffle peeked out from under the back of her coat, and her gloves matched the soft cherry hue of her expertly styled hair, which framed her face in long, silky layers.
Sir Frank walked in step just behind her, armored and solemn, his radiant wings dimmed but still imposing in the grey Tartarus light. Beside him stood Japan's top heroes—excluding Endeavor, who remained under house arrest and suspended from active duty.
Hawks, Best Jeanist, Mirko, Edgeshot, and several others stood at full attention. Each of them wore a newly developed Luminite band, designed by Celtican engineers—bands that blocked All For One's quirk-stealing ability without hindering the wearer's own quirk in any way.
A soft shimmer of displacement announced River's arrival. She emerged beside Frank, silent and sharp-eyed. Her Luminite katanas hung crossed at her back, their rich cobalt hue glinting ominously under the clouds. Etched with intricate silver markings, the blades were forged specifically to counter regenerating enemies like Nomu—any wound inflicted by them halted quirk regeneration and temporarily suppressed quirk activity in the target for five minutes.
The atmosphere grew taut with anticipation. Tartarus had seen many threats—but never an assembly like this.
The air grew still.
Then—click, click, click—the sharp sound of heels echoed through the courtyard as Princess Dawn Mikcloud Kuran stepped forward from the formation. Each step rang with authority, her presence commanding immediate silence.
Inside the security room, Warden Takehiko froze as her silhouette came into full view. Regal and radiant, her body shimmered faintly with the rising energy of her solar quirk, golden light tracing along her arms like threads of fire.
She stopped just beyond the gate and raised her voice, cool and unwavering.
"Warden Takehiko," she called, her tone edged in steel. "For far too long, you have allowed All For One to maintain contact with the outside world. Under your watch, my daughter—the Second Crowned Princess of Celtica—was kidnapped by Tomura Shigaraki on All For One's command. She was tortured. Abused. Nearly broken."
Gasps rippled through the guards behind the warden.
"And yet," Dawn continued, her voice growing sharper, "she survived. She escaped with the help of Shigaraki's own that betrayed him to get her out. Toga Himiko and Dabi." Her eyes narrowed. "Even Shigaraki... eventually understood that what he did was not entirely his own. He was manipulated. Controlled."
She let the weight of her words settle before delivering the final blow.
"Today, Tomura Shigaraki was taken by force—by a Nomu sent on All For One's direct order. And you, Warden, are still letting this monster operate from inside your prison."
A pulse of energy surged from her body—her Solarkinesis flaring like a living flame. Her coat fluttered behind her, the magenta trim glowing faintly in the radiance.
"You will open these gates and grant us access. Or Tartarus itself will be reduced to ash under royal and international military order. This is no longer a negotiation." She said at Lightning cracked through the sky. No raining just Lighting storm.
Inside the command room, the warden bit his lip, his eyes locked on the monitor showing Princess Dawn standing outside.
One of the younger guards stepped forward, panic rising in his voice. "W-What should we do, sir?! If we don't open the gates... they'll force it open!"
Another guard turned sharply, voice laced with tension. "Are we really just gonna let her destroy the entrance?! You saw what she did to the Hero Commission!"
A third, quieter voice cut in. "Are we... actually letting All For One communicate with the outside? Is that true?"
The warden remained silent, his jaw clenched. Every eye in the room was now on him, waiting.
Outside Tartarus, tension gripped the air like a vice.
Still receiving no response, Dawn narrowed her eyes. Without a word, she crouched slightly—then launched herself into the air in a flash of radiant light. Her coat flared behind her as her boots left the steel ground, and she soared high above the prison with the grace of a descending comet.
The solar sphere in her palm expanded as she rose, blazing like a newborn star. Her silhouette cut through the storm clouds, hair streaming behind her like a banner of light.
From the command center below, one of the guards gasped, pointing at the screen. "She's airborne! She's charging something—!"
The warden cursed under his breath, panic edging into his voice. "She's not bluffing. She's about to drop that thing—!"
A younger officer spun toward him, eyes wide with alarm. "Sir?! What do we do?!"
The warden opened his mouth to give an order—but he was too slow.
Outside, Dawn's eyes flashed with radiant fury. Without hesitation, she thrust both hands forward. The condensed sphere of solar energy ignited mid-air, then surged downward like a meteor.
The solar bomb exploded in a cascade of blinding golden light, crashing into Tartarus's front gates with a thunderous impact. The reinforced steel shuddered violently as waves of solar energy rippled outward, throwing debris and sparks into the air. The gate's outer locks snapped with resounding cracks, one by one, until finally the entire barrier buckled—groaning under the pressure—and was torn from its hinges.
Smoke and molten fragments hissed along the ground, and for a moment, the only sound was the echo of devastation.
Inside the command center, stunned silence reigned. The warden stared at the screen, mouth agape.
"She... she really did it..." one of the guards whispered, pale.
As the smoke cleared, Dawn stepped through the ruined threshold, flanked by Sir Frank with his six radiant wings fully unfurled and glowing with divine intensity. At her other side, River moved like a shadow, her twin Luminite katanas gleaming with cold precision. Not far behind, Japan's top pro heroes and the Royal Military marched in synchronized formation, their presence overwhelming, their silence absolute.
Dawn's voice rang out, sharp and commanding, slicing through the stunned silence like a blade.
"We are taking custody of All For One—effective immediately. Tartarus is hereby shut down. All prisoners will be transferred to the detention centers located on the Celtican Embassy Island."
Her green eyes narrowed with steely finality as her voice deepened.
"Any guard who interferes will be neutralized with Luminite darts. You've allowed this prison to become a nest of corruption and silence for too long. That ends today."
Chapter 13
Notes:
I would liek everyone know that Chapter 3 missing part is now in that chapter, took awhile to recreate it lol
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The skies above Tartarus churned with a quiet unease, the once-impenetrable symbol of Japan's justice system now nothing more than a hollow husk. Luminite wristbands shimmered coldly on the wrists of former guards, enforcers, and even the Warden himself—each one forced to their knees beneath the suffocating weight of their own complicity. The once-proud defenders of the facility were now the very prisoners they used to command. Every hallway echoed with the march of the Celtican Royal Guard, their polished white armor glinting under the sterile lights as prisoners were escorted one by one into armored transport pods bound for the Embassy's advanced detention center.
Through this oppressive silence, a wave of heat pulsed down the corridor.
Dawn moved like an eclipse in motion—each step measured, lethal, and unwavering. Her hair, the color of crushed raspberries, spilled like fire down her back, and her emerald green eyes blazed with restrained fury. Every tile beneath her feet groaned and warped from the solar heat radiating off her body, the air itself rippling in waves around her like a mirage. The guards she passed instinctively stepped aside, sweat glistening on their brows despite the cold facility.
She came to a stop outside a thick reinforced cell door—its titanium surface meant to withstand even the most dangerous quirk eruptions. Without lifting a hand, she allowed her heat to build, her core glowing bright enough to make the lights overhead flicker. The door screamed as it began to melt, rivulets of liquefied metal spilling down like mercury until it fell away completely in steaming sheets.
The room beyond was suffocatingly white—walls padded and seamless. And behind reinforced glass, strapped to a medical bed and encased in a breathing harness, sat the withered figure of All For One.
He looked thinner than rumors suggested—skin drawn tight across a malformed skull, No eyes, hidden behind a mask that wheezed with every breath. But even bound, even broken, his presence exuded a calculated malice.
"Well," he rasped, his voice distorted through the respirator, yet still smug. "Princess Dawn Mikcloud Kuran. What a rare and radiant surprise. Was that your solar tantrum shaking the halls just now? Some of us are trying to sleep, you know."
Dawn didn't speak.
She stepped into the observation chamber, the light dimming behind her as if the sun itself followed her command. She stood just past the threshold, arms at her sides, no weapon drawn—none needed.
All For One's words stalled. He coughed suddenly, a sharp, rasping sound. His fingers twitched. Something was wrong.
He tried again to inhale—but the air burned his lungs. His fingers clawed weakly at the tubes connected to his face, panic beginning to ripple beneath his artificial calm.
"Your lungs feel tight, don't they?" Dawn said coldly, her voice soft but soaked in venom. "Your breath shallow. That pressure in your chest? That's the Luminite nanites—already in your bloodstream."
His body froze.
"What...?" the villain managed, voice cracking.
"You're quirkless now," Dawn continued, tilting her head slightly. "Every ability—muted. Every stolen power—silent. Just a dying man. The nanites are already deconstructing the bio-signatures of every quirk you possess. They're cleaning you from the inside out."
For the first time in decades, true fear passed through All For One's expression. It was subtle, but there.
Dawn stepped even closer to the reinforced glass, her emerald eyes gleaming with controlled fury as her heat pulsed hotter against the temperature-controlled chamber. The nanites were already making All For One sweat, but now it was her presence that began to suffocate him.
"Tartarus is no more," she said slowly, her voice laced with fire. "And you, All For One... are at my mercy."
She didn't shout. She didn't need to. Her words struck like thunder in the silence.
"You ordered my daughter kidnapped," she continued, the venom now unmistakable in her tone. "You ordered your little puppet to torture and abuse her like a piece of property. She got out. She escaped—by the hands of Dabi—and now she's in hiding."
All For One twitched, his breathing growing labored through the Luminite-infected mask. Dawn's lips curled, not with cruelty—but with the fury of a mother whose child had suffered far beyond comprehension.
"And now you've taken Tomura Shigaraki by force," she said, voice lower, sharper. "Doing God knows what to him... warping what little humanity he had left. You've been rewriting him, haven't you?"
A flicker of irritation passed across All For One's features. But then he tensed as Dawn's voice dropped into a deadly whisper.
"Tell me," she asked darkly, "where is your so-called doctor hiding?"
All For One's body trembled slightly, not from fear—but fury. "I didn't tell him to touch her," he growled, a rough rasp tearing through the oxygen tubes. "That was all on his own. I gave no such command."
In a blink, Dawn vanished from her place across the glass. The heat wave dropped and slammed forward with her sudden movement. She was right there—inside the chamber, her hand gripping his mask and dragging his face toward hers like a predator cornering its prey.
"Don't lie to me," she hissed, voice crackling with solar energy. Sparks danced off her fingertips as the oxygen tubes sizzled from the rising heat. "Half his actions and thoughts weren't truly his, and you know it. You wormed into his mind, broke him down, turned him into your weapon. But now that you're quirkless..." Her nails dug into the hard material of the mask, scorching it. "You have no power over him anymore."
She leaned in closer, her breath a furnace against his ruined skin. "So I'll ask again. Where is your doctor friend hiding?"
All For One's face twisted—not in pain, but amusement. A cruel, satisfied smirk formed behind the ruined rebreather.
"She's with Dabi, isn't she?" he rasped. "He's unstable, you know. Barely hanging on by a thread. He was already broken when I found him—burned to the bone, half-dead."
Dawn's eyes didn't waver. "Yes. On Sekoto Peak, wasn't it?"
That stopped him.
All For One froze completely, and in that stillness, Dawn's smirk returned—dangerous, calm, calculated.
"You didn't think we knew," she said softly, letting the truth settle between them. "You didn't think we'd connect the dots. Shigaraki claimed my daughter belonged to him." Her voice hardened. "But she never did."
She released his face, letting him slump back against the restraints like dead weight.
"Dabi told us everything," she continued. "His name, his truth. Touya Todoroki."
She smiled—but this time, there was something bright behind it.
"And it seems... he and my daughter are in love."
A soft hum echoed through the chamber, growing louder as a sleek white orb drifted through the scorched doorway. Its smooth, spherical body hovered effortlessly above the ground, its central eye glowing with a radiant cyan ring. Thin pulses of blue light flickered across its core like a living heartbeat. The drone's voice was synthetic, but refined—female, with the tone of a highly advanced AI.
"Your Highness," the orb spoke, its lens focusing sharply on Dawn. "I have completed the trace on Tartarus's outgoing logs. There was a phone call made this afternoon—discreet, but flagged. The destination was Jaku General Hospital... addressed to a man named Dr. Tsubasa."
The temperature in the room seemed to drop—not from cold, but from the silence that followed. All For One didn't speak. He didn't even breathe for a moment. His body stiffened, a twitch betraying the panic he couldn't hide behind the mask.
Dawn's expression didn't shift—but her emerald eyes glinted, sharp and deadly. "Ah," she said calmly, "so we've found where your pet doctor is hiding."
She turned slightly, never taking her eyes off him. "Avatora," she said coolly, "dispatch Sir Frank and River. Have them converge on Jaku General immediately. I want that hospital locked down."
"Yes, Your Highness," the orb replied. "Also... you are needed in Cell 345. It houses the entity designated Kurogiri—the more human Nomu."
Before Dawn could answer, a low growl built in All For One's throat. "You bit—!"
He never finished.
A thin dart launched from the side of Avatora's frame, striking his neck with clinical precision. His eyes rolled back. His body jolted once, then collapsed into the chair with a heavy thud, unconscious.
Dawn gave a breath of amusement, shaking her head. "Still so dramatic," she muttered. She walked toward the exit, her heat slowly dialing down with each step. "Have this disgusting creature transferred to the Embassy's detention center. I want him processed and sealed—permanently."
The orb hovered beside her, silent for a moment before softly responding, "As you command."
And with that, the air shifted again—warmer, brighter. The true wrath of a mother had just begun.
The heavy metallic door to Cell 345 slid open with a hiss, cold air filtering out into the corridor. The flickering glow of blue security lights pulsed along the walls, casting eerie shadows across the sterilized white flooring. Dawn Mikcloud Kuran stepped inside, her heels tapping softly with each controlled, purposeful step. The solar energy that had radiated from her moments ago was now held tightly beneath her skin—contained, but ever-present.
Standing just inside the room was Sir Frank Valkyrie, his six wings no longer visible anymore . His violet eyes glanced toward her with calm respect as he spoke, "Ah, Your Highness. I was just about to depart with River for Jaku General, but before I do—this is the one known as Kurogiri. The human Nomu."
Dawn's emerald eyes flickered toward the restrained figure in the center of the cell.
There he sat—strapped to a reinforced chair, dressed in the white and teal Tartarus uniform, wrists locked with sleek Luminite cuffs. Mist no longer leaked from his collar or eyes. His form, while still upright and alert, appeared deeply changed—less ethereal, more human. A face beginning to remember.
Dawn stepped closer, her gaze sharpening. "Ah... so his mist is gone."
Frank nodded, stepping aside so she could approach. "Yes. The Luminite suppresses it completely. And he's... very much coherent. The doctors confirmed earlier that the Nomu enhancements are dormant. He remembers the League... bits and pieces. He's confused, but conscious."
The princess studied him for a moment in silence. Then, with a gentle tilt of her head and a softened voice, she took a step closer. "Kurogiri."
The man slowly raised his head. His eyes, once hidden by violet fog, were now exposed—tired, unsure, but human.
"I am Princess Dawn Mikcloud Kuran," she said clearly, her tone regal but warm. "Do you remember your true name?"
A flicker of recognition passed over his features. His lips parted slowly, voice rough and low as if summoned from beneath layers of shadow and silence.
"...Oboro Shirakumo," he whispered. "I... remember everything..."
The words lingered in the air like a delicate tremor. Frank lowered his gaze in quiet reverence, and Dawn's expression softened into something mournful yet resolute.
"You've been through hell," she said quietly. "But it's over now."
Oboro's lips trembled slightly. "Aizawa... Hizashi.... I remember them..."
Dawn nodded slowly, her tone gentle. "Yes. I'm they will be thrilled to know your alive."
Oboro closed his eyes, the tension in his shoulders sagging under the weight of long-buried memories. "It's... hard to piece together. So much darkness. But... I can feel it now. Who I was."
"You are still him," Dawn said softly. "Buried, altered, but not lost. And now... you're free from All For One's control."
Frank stepped closer, folding his arms. "We'll continue monitoring him, but the Luminite bands are keeping everything suppressed. No surge of mist since the suppression began. He hasn't tried to teleport or act violently."
Dawn gave a single approving nod, her gaze returning to Oboro. "You're no longer his puppet, Shirakumo. You get to choose what happens next."
Oboro looked up at her, truly seeing her for the first time. His voice was quiet, haunted. "Then... tell me everything I've missed. Wait... what of Tenko?"
Dawn blinked. "Who?"
Oboro exhaled softly. "Ah... Tomura Shigaraki. His real name is Tenko Shimura. I was assigned to watch over him when he was only five years old... That man brought him to me. I practically raised him..."
He looked down, fingers trembling slightly against the restraints. "What happened to him?"
Dawn stepped closer, her voice low but firm as she knelt beside his chair. "Oboro... All For One manipulated him. Warped his mind. He kidnapped my daughter—Princess Jess—and tortured her under his command... even abused her..."
Oboro's eyes widened in horror. "N-No... No, that can't be true. I raised him... I taught him better than that. He was just a broken child when I met him... Please, Princess Dawn. Let me help you find him. Please. I... I see him like a son. I know I tried my best—as Kurogiri—to teach him right from wrong. To guide the League, even... They used to call me 'Mama Kurogiri.' It drove me crazy, but I let them."
Dawn smiled faintly at that, a flicker of softness breaking through her otherwise composed expression. "I can't let you walk free, not just yet. You're going to be transferred to the Celtican Embassy—not to the detention center, but to the medical wing. Oboro... you died. You died. This is the first time we've ever come across a fully reanimated body that has retained consciousness and memory. We just want to make sure your body is stable... that you're truly whole again."
Oboro nodded slowly, his mist faint but flickering with an unfamiliar gentleness. "I understand. Thank you... for your kindness. And for believing that the real me still exists."
U.A. High – Class 1-A Dorms, Evening
The dorm's living room was unusually quiet.
All the students of Class 1-A were gathered in front of the large flatscreen, the flickering light from the news broadcast painting their faces in anxious hues. They sat bunched together on the couches or sprawled across the floor, snacks forgotten as they watched live footage from Tartarus.
Izuku sat curled up beside Shoto on the loveseat, his head resting on Shoto's shoulder. Shoto's arm was loosely wrapped around him, his eyes fixed and unreadable.
On the rug, Bakugo sat with his arms crossed, jaw tight as he scowled at the screen. "Tch... What the hell is going on now..."
Behind him, Toga was leaning comfortably against Uraraka, popping chips into her mouth like this was a thriller movie. "This is way more exciting than that dumb cooking show," she murmured.
Uraraka gave her a side glance but didn't push her away.
Even Aizawa had joined them, seated against the wall with his arms draped over his knees, his tired eyes scanning the unfolding chaos on-screen. His expression remained neutral, but something in his jaw tightened as images of the Celtican Helicarrier and armored royal guards filled the screen.
Then the front doors opened.
Nezu trotted in, his tiny frame nearly drowned in the dim lighting, followed by none other than Toshinori Yagi—All Might, in his weakened form.
"Aizawa," Nezu began, voice unusually soft but heavy with implication. "You should find Yamada and prepare to go to the Celtican Embassy. Immediately."
Aizawa blinked, frowning slightly. "What? Why? What's happening now?"
Nezu met his eyes with somber clarity.
"Oboro," he said gently. "He's alive."
Jaku General Hospital
The automatic glass doors at the hospital's main entrance hissed open—only to slam back with a mechanical shutter as a column of Celtican Royal Guards marched through in precision formation. Panic rippled through the pristine lobby like a crack in glass. Nurses froze mid-step. Patients turned from their wheelchairs and gurneys. The hushed sounds of murmured conversation died instantly.
At the head of the armored procession strode Sir Frank Valkyrie, the First Grand Knight of Celtica. His luminous wings—six in total, folded yet humming with light—cast faint halos against the floor with each resolute stride. His armor gleamed silver-white under the sterile lights, marked with the violet-and-sky crest of the Royal Guard. Eyes like polished amethyst scanned the hall with cold intent.
A trembling nurse stepped forward, gripping a tablet to her chest like a shield.
"C-Can I help you?"
Frank didn't slow. His voice was steady, but the steel beneath was unmistakable.
"Where is Dr. Tsubasa?"
The nurse blanched, nearly stumbling backward.
"He... he should be on the third floor. In the east wing. Lab access is... restricted, but he—he's often alone there."
Frank nodded once.
"This hospital is now under the jurisdiction of the Celtican Royal Family. Stand down and cooperate, or you will be escorted out."
He turned on his heel and strode toward the elevators. Behind him, the guards moved in silence—an intimidating black tide of authority, Luminite rifles slung over their backs and visors scanning every corner.
Earlier – Third Floor, East Wing
River Dovahkiin had already arrived.
She stood within a shadowed corridor behind a false door disguised as a janitor's storage closet—now kicked open. Her stance was poised, yet alert, the curved hilts of her twin Luminite katanas shimmering faintly at her sides. The soft mist of decontamination filters hissed around her, swirling like smoke.
The room she'd discovered was a hidden laboratory. Not clinical, not even sterile—no, this was something else. The cold, pulsing glow of biotanks lined the walls, each tube filled with thick, amniotic fluid. Suspended inside were Nomu—misshapen, deformed, their flesh warped by experimentation. Some were little more than half-formed things, twitching. Others looked like they were waiting to wake.
River narrowed her eyes.
"No doctor. Just corpses waiting to be told to kill."
The silence was oppressive, broken only by the rhythmic bubbling of the tanks and the subtle hum of connected machines.
A small orb floated into the chamber, casting a white-blue glow. Avatora's mobile interface rotated gently, scanning the lab's interior.
"Lady River," the AI's voice chimed softly, "I detect no heat signature of Dr. Tsubasa. He is not currently within the facility."
"Then where is he?" River murmured, eyes moving to a nearby console. "This place is too active to be abandoned."
"Accessing system logs," Avatora replied. "I am threading through restricted channels. Activating stealth protocol to avoid awakening the containment systems."
"Make it quick," River said, taking slow steps around a tank where a nearly complete Nomu drifted with open, unblinking eyes. "We don't need a waking corpse on top of this."
Avatora's iris dimmed slightly as her scans reached deeper than standard access permissions would normally allow. River stood motionless, eyes trained on the flickering holographic displays now rising from the console.
"There was an outgoing communication earlier this afternoon," Avatora reported at last, her voice lower, almost wary. "It was routed through this terminal—encrypted, high-security clearance. The call was traced to a hidden location within the hospital: 'Observation Room 2,' registered under a false identity tied to... Doctor Tsubasa."
River's eyes sharpened. "Where is he now?"
Avatora paused.
Avatora's core dimmed as she scanned deeper, her tone cautious. "I've accessed what's left of their systems. Observation Room 2 was wiped clean—surveillance files deleted, logs scrubbed. The trail ends there."
River stepped closer, her brows furrowed. "No exit footage? No transport logs?"
"None," Avatora confirmed. "What few system fragments remain suggest a calculated departure. They covered their tracks."
River's hand tightened around the hilt of her katana. "So Tsubasa knew we were coming."
"Yes," Avatora said, hovering near a sealed Nomu chamber. "And he didn't leave alone. There are biometric traces—vague, but... it's likely he left with Tomura Shigaraki. The footage is fragmented, but the physical profile matches."
River exhaled through her nose, expression hardening. "And now there's nothing. No trail. No signal bounce. No residual heat signatures. Whoever moved them knew how to vanish."
Avatora floated in place, humming faintly. "It's as if they disappeared into a void."
River didn't speak for a moment. Her gaze swept across the fluid-filled Nomu tanks—half-alive bodies suspended like trophies. A quiet disgust rose in her throat.
"They didn't vanish," she said at last. "They're hiding. Somewhere we haven't looked yet."
She turned toward the console. "Tell Her Highness the lab was evacuated. The doctor and Shigaraki are gone. But this place... it was more than just a lab. It was a staging ground."
Avatora's light flickered. "Understood, Lady River. I'll report immediately."
"Seal this level," River ordered. "Only Celtican clearance from this point on."
Inside the reimagined mindscape of One For All—a serene, traditional Japanese home bathed in soft afternoon light—the past users of the quirk had settled into the peaceful domesticity of their shared space. The scent of miso soup and grilled vegetables wafted from the open kitchen, where Nana Shimura moved gracefully between the stovetop and the table, humming softly to herself.
The kotatsu sat warm and inviting in the center of the room, its checkered blanket draped over the edges as light filtered in through the shōji screens, casting dappled patterns on the tatami mats.
Yoichi Shigaraki, the first user, was slumped dramatically over the kotatsu table, arms folded like a sulking teenager. A distant, thoughtful expression shadowed his features.
Toshitsugu Kudo leaned back beside him, sipping a cup of tea while casually watching the small television mounted in the corner of the room—a inner mindset device connected directly to Izuku Midoriya's current field of vision. On the screen played live news footage from Japan, capturing the chaos and precision of Tartarus being shut down by the Celtican royal family. The footage showed Princess Dawn herself leading the charge.
Toshitsugu raised an eyebrow and glanced toward the screen, then to Yoichi. "Still going strong after two and a half centuries... the Celtican royal family hasn't lost their fire. What was her name again? The one you used to moon over?"
Yoichi's spine stiffened, visibly trying to sink deeper into the kotatsu.
Toshitsugu smirked, voice teasing. "You know who I mean. The first crowned queen of Celtica. Emerald eyes, hair like flame... and that freakishly powerful Kinesis Quirk."
"Don't," Yoichi groaned, slapping his forehead onto the table with a heavy thud. "Don't you dare embarrass me."
Daigoro Banjo laughed from the other side of the room, leaning back against the wall with his hands behind his head. "No way. You had a thing for Queen Regina Mikcloud? The one even All For One couldn't steal from? She was a legend even in my time, I'm Celtican and Japanese you know..."
"She wasn't just powerful," Yoichi muttered into the blanket. "She was... kind. Just... shut up."
"She was also married, wasn't she?" Toshitsugu added quietly, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips as he leaned grinning down at him. "To that Grand knight of hers, the only 3rd grand Knight I believe, what was his name again? Jerith Revena right? With that rare Phoenix quirk."
"That's not the point!" Yoichi whined. "It wasn't like that. I admired her from afar. You know... like a normal person. She wasn't when I first meet her you know! I was just with you half the time I couldn't confess my..." he groans bangs his head "You are a jerk..."
Nana from the kitchen "Toshitsugu.... Don't' tease him or your not getting my food."
Toshitsugu gasped in mock horror, clutching his chest as if mortally wounded. "Not getting your food? That's cruel, Nana. Downright villainous behavior!"
Nana turned just enough to give him a stern look over her shoulder, one eyebrow raised, a wooden spoon in hand like a weapon of justice. "Keep teasing Yoichi and you'll find out just how cruel I can be."
The rest of the past users chuckled, the mood in the cozy home lightening further. Daigoro Banjo let out a hearty laugh, slapping his knee as he made his way toward the table. "Man, I missed this kind of banter. It's like a real family dinner in here."
En floated in gracefully, folding his legs as he settled beside the kotatsu, his serene expression tinged with amusement. "Yoichi, don't be embarrassed. Admiring a queen in your youth is... poetic."
Bruce Lee gave a sage nod from the corner where he'd been doing light stretches. "Even warriors need hearts. And besides, admiration builds humility."
Hikage Shinomori, quieter than the rest, adjusted his scarf and took a seat with a faint smile. "You were lucky, Yoichi. Not many get to meet someone like her—even fewer remember it so fondly."
Yoichi mumbled something unintelligible, still buried in the kotatsu blanket, ears burning. "This is bullying..."
Toshitsugu leaned in again, grinning. "C'mon, admit it. If she had blinked at you twice, you would've tripped over yourself to propose."
Yoichi let out a strangled groan, while Banjo reached over to hand him a bowl. "Eat, lover boy. Nana'll have your head if you don't."
Nana brought over a large tray of food—steamed rice, grilled fish, vegetables in broth, and miso soup—setting it at the center of the kotatsu as everyone gathered close. The warmth of the meal blended with the warmth of shared memories and the peace of a rare quiet moment.
For all the pain and battles outside, inside the mindscape, the past users of One For All had carved out a home—one built not just on power, but on bond, laughter, and the comfort of still being together.
Suddenly, a quiet hum filled the air like the resonance of a tuning fork. The paper shōji doors at the far end of the room began to glow with a soft emerald light, casting shifting patterns across the tatami floor. Every user seated at the kotatsu froze mid-motion, eyes drawn toward the source as something—or someone—entered their sacred space.
The doors slid open with a gentle hush, and a silhouette stepped through.
Time seemed to pause.
Yoichi's eyes widened in disbelief, his chopsticks clattering from his fingers and landing forgotten on the table. "R–Regina...?"
Daigoro sat up straighter, blinking. "Wait, the Queen Regina Mikcloud?"
"How did she even get in here...?" En murmured, brows furrowed as he stood.
There she was—radiant as the stories, as the memories.
Regina Mikcloud, First Queen of Celtica, stood with elegant poise. Her long, thick raspberry-red hair flowed down to her thighs, lightly wavy as if kissed by a spring breeze. Her deep emerald eyes shimmered with timeless wisdom and warmth, and her fair porcelain skin glowed beneath the soft afternoon light. She wore a regal green velvet pantsuit—tailored perfectly to her form—with golden buttons gleaming against the fabric. A sleek black blouse was tucked beneath her blazer, and her black heels clicked softly as she stepped inside. But after a moment, with the grace of a woman shedding formality, she slipped off her heels and walked barefoot across the tatami toward the table.
"Hello, Yoichi," she greeted, voice like velvet wrapped in sunlight.
Yoichi's face turned crimson.
Toshitsugu nearly doubled over laughing. "Oh Regina! Of course you'd find your way into the One For All mindscape. You always did know how to break the rules with style."
Regina smiled knowingly, stopping beside Yoichi, who was now stiff as a board. "It seems your legacy has reached me, even after all this time." Her gaze softened. "It's good to see you again."
Banjo whistled low. "This just got interesting."
The kotatsu table was forgotten as the users slowly gathered in a mixture of awe and confusion. Even Nana peeked from the kitchen, one eyebrow raised, holding a ladle mid-air.
Yoichi managed a stammered reply, his face still beet red. "I—I thought... you weren't... I mean—how...?"
Regina's smile was calm, enigmatic—ageless in its grace. "Have you forgotten my quirk already?" she asked gently. "Kinesis holds many abilities, Yoichi. Even after death, I can reach across realms... especially when I reincarnated. You know reincarnation is a real phenomenon—particularly with a quirk like mine. It wasn't easy, but I was able to ensure my soul would return."
She took another step forward, her bare feet silent against the tatami as her emerald eyes locked with his. "And I think you already know, don't you? Ever since your power became intertwined with Izuku Midoriya... you've seen glimpses, haven't you? Her face. Her soul. Her memories. My reincarnation."
Yoichi gave a slow, shaky nod. "I was... shocked. The resemblance—the power—it all felt like you, and yet..."
Regina tilted her head slightly, her expression softening. "I'm not here to confuse you, Yoichi. I came because something important has happened."
He blinked, still trying to steady his breathing. "Then... why are you really here, Regina?"
She leaned down slightly, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear, and smiled—mischievous and warm all at once. "You don't have to worry about your older brother anymore, Yoichi."
Yoichi's eyes widened, every muscle in his body going still. "What...?"
Regina straightened, voice firm yet soothing. "Zen Shigaraki—All For One—has been dealt with. Tartarus has fallen. The Celtican royal family has taken over, and he's now under their control. Powerless."
Yoichi looked like the wind had been knocked out of him. He sank back onto the floor, mouth parted in disbelief.
Regina chuckled softly. "My reincarnation got a phone call not long ago... from her mother. She knows everything now—everything she was never supposed to know. And she's finally safe. If she chooses, she can return to the Embassy... with Dabi."
At that, she paused, her smile taking on a deeper, more knowing hue. "Yes... Dabi, or rather—Touya Todoroki—is the reincarnation of Jerith Revena. My husband."
Yoichi stared at her in stunned silence.
"I imagine that must sound like fate itself is tying everything together," Regina said gently, her voice barely above a whisper. "Fate... that our souls would meet again. That the bonds we forged in one lifetime would survive death itself."
Yoichi stared at her, still breathless, still not quite able to believe what stood before him. "Regina..."
But then, a voice—deep and familiar, laced with calm authority—echoed softly from beyond the shōji doors, like a ripple through the spiritual current of the mindscape.
"Regina. It's time to return to our reincarnations."
Yoichi's eyes widened as he turned toward the doorway, recognition dawning in his gaze. "Is that... Jareth...?"
Regina smiled knowingly, warmth flickering behind her emerald eyes. "Even in death, we remained together. Reincarnated... drawn to the same story, over and over. Of course Touya doesn't know yet." She glanced toward Yoichi with a soft expression. "But he will... in time."
As the doors slowly slid open, a tall man stepped into view—silver-white hair tousled like wind-swept snow, piercing turquoise eyes lit with familiarity. His silhouette carried power, history, and calm. He wore black, simple and sleek, but the aura around him shimmered faintly like blue embers left behind by a phoenix.
Jareth Revena—the Third Grand Knight of Celtica—stood in the threshold, quietly watching.
Yoichi's heart thundered. He looked between them—the queen and her knight, reborn and returned.
"I... I didn't think souls like yours ever stayed tethered this long," he whispered.
Regina gave him one last reassuring smile as she reached to slip her heels back on. "We made a vow once—through life, through death, and through rebirth. You're a part of this now too, Yoichi. Just as Izuku is."
Jareth gently offered her his hand. "Come, my love."
And with a graceful turn, Regina walked beside him into the soft green glow of the doorway—two souls who had found each other again, stepping beyond the veil.
Yoichi remained frozen at the kotatsu, stunned into silence. His chopsticks had long since slipped from his hand, now resting crooked beside his untouched bowl. His face was still flushed from the encounter, and he stared blankly ahead, lips slightly parted as if trying to piece together what had just happened.
Around him, the other vestiges sat equally quiet, the air within the warm mindscape tinged with a surreal, reverent stillness. The spiritual weight of what they had just witnessed clung to the room like lingering incense—calm, heavy, and impossible to ignore.
"...Well, damn," Daigoro Banjo finally muttered, his deep voice cracking the silence like a pebble tossed into still water. He leaned back against the wall with a low whistle. "That was something."
Nana, still at the kitchen counter with a towel draped over one arm, gave a knowing smile and nodded. "He was quite the looker," she said lightly. "Handsome, refined... no wonder they used to call him the Phoenix Knight."
Yoichi groaned and let his forehead thump back down onto the kotatsu with a loud thud.
Their laughter swelled gently, warm and good-natured, echoing through the mindscape's wooden beams like a distant memory come home. Even in this strange afterlife of shared power and purpose, moments like this brought them back to something deeply human.
Notes:
Also, Regina and Jareth's future incarntions look identical to their past-selfs. Imagine touya without any burn scars xP
Regina's looks appear in her early thirtys but still young looking. Same With Jareth, early 30s but young looking. due to their quirks.
Chapter Text
The morning light filtered faintly through the narrow sewer grate above, casting broken shadows across the ceiling of the bunker. The air was clean and pleasantly scented—thanks to the fresh laundry that had run all night. The warm aroma of Downy Infusions Mega Dryer Sheets—Balance, Crisp Rain, and Blue Eucalyptus—lingered gently, blending with the soft hum of distant pipes.
The room was quiet, still wrapped in the aftermath of Jess and Dabi’s passionate night.
Jess woke first.
Her eyes fluttered open, adjusting slowly to the low light. Her body ached in quiet, intimate places—a satisfying soreness that reminded her of heat, skin, and whispered confessions. Dabi lay beside her, half-twisted in the sheets, his black hair a messy halo against the pillow. The faint white roots at his scalp were beginning to show more. His breathing was slow. Calm. For once, his face looked free of pain.
Both of them were bare beneath the blankets.
Jess sat up with care, she eased herself out of bed and crossed the room to the chair where she’d folded her clothes the night before—pulling on black leggings and an oversized long-sleeved shirt, unmistakably Dabi’s. It was his faded Led Zeppelin shirt, soft from years of wear.
The cool floor met her bare feet as she padded toward the kitchen.
Her hair was tangled from sleep, but her thoughts were strangely still. There was no fear this morning. No ghosts behind her eyes. Just the soft hum of routine, and the grounding ache of reality settling in.
She reached for the bag of donut shop ground coffee, scooping it into the filter and pressing the switch. The small machine sputtered and groaned to life, its old wiring struggling to keep up, but doing its job. Jess leaned against the counter, resting her hands along its edge, and let the rhythmic sound fill the space around her.
The scent of fresh coffee drifted softly through the bunker, curling around the air like a warm, invisible thread pulling him toward consciousness. Rich and familiar, it mingled with the clean comfort of soft detergent still lingering in the laundry and the trace scent of Jess’s skin still etched into his pillow.
Dabi stirred.
A low groan slipped from his throat as he blinked against the dim lighting, his eyes adjusting slowly to the gray-toned calm of the room. The blankets pooled around his waist as he sat up, one scarred hand dragging through his disheveled black-and-white hair. His muscles ached pleasantly from the night before, a raw tenderness settled into his chest—but it wasn’t pain. Not the kind he was used to.
It was real. Grounding. Almost… good.
He swung his legs over the side of the bed and reached for his boxers, which had been abandoned carelessly on the floor. The fabric scratched faintly over the sensitive skin of his hips as he stepped into them, then pulled on an old black shirt that hung near the chair—thin cotton, faded seams, worn soft over time. The collar sat askew on his shoulders. He didn’t bother fixing it.
Sleep still clung to the edges of his mind as he crossed toward the kitchen, bare feet making no sound on the smooth bunker floor.
And then he heard it.
Jess’s voice—soft, melodic, half-humming under her breath. She stood in front of the counter, her hair cascading down her back in sleep-tousled waves. She hadn’t noticed him yet. Her posture was relaxed, one hand steadying the mug as she poured the first cup of the morning.
For a moment, he forgot everything else.
She was glowing—not literally, not in the fantastical sense—but in the way only Jess could. Comfortable in his shirt. Barefoot. Safe. Alive.
He smiled to himself, something quiet and rare pulling at the corner of his lips.
But the second he stepped forward—
Something snapped.
A sudden pulse, sharp and unwelcome, flared deep inside his chest. Heat. Real heat. Not emotional, not arousal, not ambient warmth—but pressure. A fiery, unnatural pulse blooming under his sternum like an ignited coal.
His breath hitched.
He froze mid-step, the smile wiped clean from his face as an oppressive, internal fire began to crawl beneath his skin. His fingers curled involuntarily. Sweat broke along his brow. The old shirt clung tighter to his torso as the temperature around his body spiked violently.
Then—thin wisps of smoke began to rise.
They drifted lazily from the collar of his shirt, curling near his neck and shoulders, like early steam escaping a kettle. The edges of his shirt darkened faintly—not from flames, but from something smoldering deep within.
Jess, unaware, turned with her cup in hand. “Morning, Touy—”
She stopped cold.
The mug trembled in her grip, coffee sloshing against the rim. Her breath caught in her throat as her eyes locked on him—wide, startled, unblinking.
Her voice cracked, barely above a whisper.
“T-Touya… you’re… smoking…”
Jess’s fingers trembled as she set the mug down—harder than she meant to—on the counter. The clink of ceramic against metal echoed sharply in the quiet space, breaking the morning calm like glass shattering on tile.
“Touya—” she moved toward him without hesitation, bare feet padding quickly across the floor. Her breath hitched at the heat radiating off him—it wasn’t just warmth. It was intense. Wrong.
His skin shimmered beneath the thin fabric of his shirt, a slow ripple of heat waves pulsing off his arms, shoulders, neck. Smoke rose steadily now, drifting from his sleeves and collar like an open furnace trying to stoke itself alive.
Dabi took a step back, shaking his head, eyes wide. His voice was tight. Raw.
“I—I don’t know what’s happening…” he rasped, his tone cracking. “This has never happened before—I didn’t even use it. I didn’t light anything—Jess, I swear—”
“I know,” she said quickly, panic rising in her chest as her eyes swept over him. “I know, baby, I believe you. But—” She choked on her breath as more smoke curled from his body, his palms beginning to flush an angry blue beneath his scars.
“We need to get you to the Embassy. Now. I’m calling them.” Her voice was sharp, commanding—but her hands were already shaking as she turned away, tears welling in her eyes.
Dabi flinched, stepping toward her. “Jess, I’m sure it’ll stop—maybe it’s just a flare-up, maybe I—”
“Touya, look at yourself!” she snapped, tears brimming, her voice slicing through his denial like a blade. “You’re burning up and you’re not even using your quirk! That’s not a flare-up!”
He blinked, thrown by her tone. Jess never yelled like that.
Then, hesitantly, he looked down at his arms—his shaking hands. His arms where smoking even at the seams and staples. His Staples looked like they were ready to literally melt into his skin. Beneath his skin, faint flickers of dull blue threatened to spark. No flames yet, but his core—his quirk—was spiraling out of his control.
And for a terrifying moment, he remembered.
The mountain.
The agony. The helplessness. His body, out of control, devouring itself in a blaze that wouldn’t stop until it tore him apart. This felt like that night. That cursed night at Sekoto Peak, where he was supposed to die.
His knees wobbled slightly.
Fear—cold and unfamiliar—tightened around his chest.
Jess was already across the room. She moved with focused urgency, grabbing the landline off the wall with her artificial arm. Her fingers dialed fast, precise, her breath shallow with panic. The line clicked once—then connected.
She didn’t wait for a greeting.
“This is Princess Jessica Lightning Mikcloud. I need a direct emergency link to my father right now!”
A calm voice responded on the line. “Of course, Princess. Just a moment.”
There was a short beep—then a click.
“Jess, honey? Are you alright?” her father’s voice came through, steady and alert.
“Dad, me and Touya are on our way to the Embassy right now!” she said, rushing the words out. “It’s Touya—his quirk—it's going haywire. It’s burning him from the inside and he’s not even using it!”
She sucked in a breath, trying to keep her voice from cracking.
“I’m bringing him straight there. Have Frank meet us at the gate with a Luminite band. Please.”
“Of course, hun. Just get here safely,” James replied calmly, though there was a subtle edge of concern behind his voice. “I’ll notify the pro heroes in the area and have them assist with your route to the Embassy.”
Jess’s hand trembled slightly as she nodded, even though he couldn’t see her. “Get Shouto too. His ice might help cool Touya down—just enough to slow this until we get there.”
Dabi, standing nearby with a faint sheen of sweat building at his brow, exhaled shakily. “Yeah… probably best to use his ice. Shit…” He gritted his teeth. “I can actually feel this. It’s real. Jess—have your father call Dr. Vi. I like her…”
Jess turned toward him, heart racing, then relayed the request into the receiver. “There’s an underground doctor you know. I think—back when you went by Revan…”
“Dr. Viola Omi,” James said, voice sharpening with recognition. “Yes. I remember her. I’ll give her a call right now. Stop wasting time, hun—get him here immediately.”
The line cut.
Jess hung up, the click echoing through the bunker, and immediately started moving. She darted toward the chair, grabbing Dabi’s pants and socks, pulling out their small go-bag, and grabbing her own boots.
“You can’t go out in boxers,” she muttered under her breath, trying to stay focused.
Dabi tried to crack a smirk, but his face twitched from the heat pulsing beneath his skin. “Babe… you know I’m immune to the cold,” he rasped, stepping carefully toward her. “But yeah—villain staple pants, no hoodie. I think if I wear one right now, I’ll cook myself alive.”
The skies above U.A. cracked with a rush of wind as crimson feathers sliced through the air like razors. Hawks didn’t slow as he dropped from the sky, landing hard on the pavement outside the main campus. His wings folded just enough to sprint through the entrance—boots pounding against the tile, expression deadly serious.
He blew past startled students in the hall.
“Was that—?!”
“Why is Hawks running?!”
“Something’s wrong—”
The 1-A classroom door flew open with a forceful bang, crashing against the wall and making everyone inside jolt.
Midnight turned, sharp heels clicking. “Hawks! Really—do you ever knock?”
“No time.” His voice was clipped. His golden eyes zeroed in. “Shouto.”
Todoroki was already rising from his desk.
“What happened?” he asked, brows knitting.
“It’s Dabi,” Hawks said, his voice low and focused. “His quirk's gone haywire. He’s overheating—internally burning himself alive. The Princess is bringing him to the Celtican Embassy as we speak, but he’s unstable. They need your ice to slow it down until Sir Frank can apply a Luminite band.”
Shouto’s expression shifted instantly—shock giving way to urgent, internal calculation. He said nothing. He didn’t need to. The weight in his eyes said it all.
Without a word, he reached for his hero gear, strapping the kit across his chest.
Izuku stood beside him, steady. “You’ve got this.”
Shouto nodded, then leaned in—pressing a brief, firm kiss to Izuku’s lips.
The class didn’t gasp. They knew.
Mina just gave them a quiet, worried thumbs-up.
“Shesh you too,” she said softly.
Kirishima cracked his knuckles. “I see he’s only going huh?.”
Bakugo rolled his eyes. “Stop sucking face and go already..”
Toga, sitting at her desk, tilted her head. “Go, Shouto. I’ll watch your boy while you’re gone,” she added with a playful wink at Izuku. “Please help Dabi… he’s like a big brother to me….”
Shouto didn’t even react to the teasing. His focus was locked.
“Let’s move,” Hawks urged, already turning.
Without hesitation, Shouto followed, wind rushing in as the door slammed behind them.
Class 1-A sat in uneasy silence.
They all knew what Dabi could do.
But for Jess to be panicked, and for Hawks to burst into U.A. mid-morning with zero protocol—it meant something worse.
Much worse.
The villa felt hollow.
What was once a roaring center of the Paranormal Liberation Front’s operations now echoed with uneasy footsteps and whispered conversations. The front courtyard sat quiet—abandoned gear still scattered on the ground, the signs of a swift departure by the lower ranks clear. Half the dormitories were empty, doors left ajar, beds unmade. They’d left in the night, one by one. Some in pairs. Some without a word.
Inside the main meeting room, the remaining lieutenants gathered—those who had once stood closest to Tomura Shigaraki. But now, their voices filled the air with frustration, uncertainty, and escalating panic.
“This is falling apart—”
“We should’ve taken control days ago—”
“We can’t just sit here and do nothing!”
“We don’t even know if Tomura’s still alive—!”
“Don’t say that!”
The argument spiraled, sharp and raw, the sound bouncing off the cracked marble walls. Dabi was gone. Toga had defected. And now Shigaraki—their leader—was missing.
And the doctor?
Unreachable. Ominously silent.
Mr. Compress sat in the corner, arms folded, his cloak draped like a shadow across the arm of his chair. He had listened long enough.
With a slow sigh, he stood—his chair scraping quietly against the stone floor. The others paused, all eyes shifting toward him.
He reached up, fingers deftly unclasping the jawpiece of his mask.
Then the top half.
One by one, he removed both layers of disguise, revealing his full face for the first time in days—tired, shadowed, but calm.
The room stilled.
“…The Liberation Front,” Compress began, his voice lower than usual, almost pained, “isn’t anything without Tomura.”
His words struck like flint in dry grass.
He stepped forward, gaze sweeping across the others. “We’ve lost direction. Purpose. We’re not liberating anything—we’re just waiting in the dark, while the world outside keeps spinning.”
Skeptic opened his mouth to protest, but Compress held up a hand—not with authority, but finality.
“I’m not saying we surrender. I’m saying we adapt. Tomura isn’t here, and I…” he swallowed hard, emotion flickering briefly across his face, “…I’m scared of what that doctor might be doing to him. You all know how little control we ever had over Garaki.”
There was silence.
Cold, heavy silence.
“I think,” Compress continued, his voice firmer now, “we should go to the Celtican Embassy. Seek asylum. Speak directly with the royal family. They’re actively searching for Tomura. We all saw the news last night—Princess Dawn personally stormed Tartarus and took All For One into custody.”
Spinner leaned forward slowly, his frown deepening. “You trust them?”
Compress hesitated, but only for a second. “I trust that they hate All For One more than they hate us. That’s enough for me. They know that not all of Tomura’s actions were truly his. Toga made that perfectly clear when she left the Liberation Front… when she had me give him those therapy sessions to help Tomura see that what he did to the Princess was wrong—and not entirely his own doing.”
He looked around at them—tired, but determined.
“Dabi left the group too… with the Princess. He’s been with her through everything, even her miscarriage. He stayed with her. Protected her. And they trust him now. That says something. I think it’s time we stop hiding and start being honest.”
Re-Destro, sitting in his wheelchair, gave a single slow nod. “I agree with Compress.”
Geten sighed through his nose. “…If Re-Destro agrees, then so do I.”
Twice—quiet today—simply nodded once. “Same.”
Spinner’s frown lingered, but after a pause, he gave a reluctant shrug. “Same here…”
All eyes turned to Skeptic, who hadn’t spoken, fingers flying across his keyboard. He didn’t look up.
“I think we should go,” Skeptic said flatly. “Right now, all Pro Heroes are assisting the Princess in getting Dabi to the embassy.”
The room went silent, confused murmurs rising.
Skeptic tapped the space bar, and a broadcast window projected onto the far wall. A news anchor’s voice echoed in the dim room:
“All Pro Heroes—be alert. The 2nd Crowned Princess of Celtica is enroute to the Embassy with Dabi for emergency assistance. His quirk has become unstable and is reportedly burning him from the inside out. All Top Pro Heroes are ordered to assist in ensuring their safe arrival.
U.A. student Shouto Todoroki is inbound alongside Pro Hero Hawks to provide cooling support.
Dabi is not to be arrested. Repeat—Dabi is not to be arrested in any manner. He is under full amnesty from the Celtican royal family for saving the Princess during her captivity.”
A long silence followed.
The lieutenants exchanged glances—no longer with uncertainty, but with something closer to resolve. The weight of the broadcast lingered in the air like smoke.
Suddenly, Twice shot to his feet.
“Dabi needs us!” he blurted, voice cracking. “He’s gonna die! Our—our portable heater is gonna burn out!”
His hands fidgeted as panic built behind his words. “He might actually go out this time. Like really out—forever. We can’t let that happen, not after everything!”
The group didn’t laugh at the nickname.
Not this time.
Because for all his strange phrasing, Twice was right.
Dabi was still one of them. And if even he had run to the Princess for help, if he was falling apart, then none of them could pretend things were fine anymore.
Not one of them.
Compress stood up, brushing dust from his cloak as a quiet resolve settled over him. “Then we’ll lend a hand,” he said firmly. “Geten, you can assist the Shouto kid—help keep Dabi’s core temperature down.”
Geten exhaled through his nose, clearly unamused. “I suppose I’ll help… my little cousin.”
Several heads turned toward him in surprise.
Geten’s eyes narrowed in immediate irritation. “Don’t look so shocked! His mother—Rei Himura—is my aunt. Himura blood, remember?”
He stood up with a scoff, tugging his coat into place.
“Shesh… enough with the sucked faces,” he muttered, shooting a side glance at Twice. “Let’s go already and help that burnt asshole. He needs us.”
There were no objections.
Not anymore.
The Paranormal Liberation Front—what remained of it—was finally moving again.
Not for war.
But for one of their own.
The narrow back alleyways of Musutafu were cloaked in a chilled morning mist, the kind that clung to the skin and made everything feel slower, heavier. A faint drizzle from the night before still slicked the pavement, turning the cracked concrete glossy beneath the first dim hints of daylight. Steam curled lazily from nearby sewer grates, ghosting into the air like fading memories. The distant sound of morning traffic was little more than a hum, muffled by towering buildings and the weight of urgency pressing down on them.
Jess and Dabi moved quickly through the winding paths behind closed storefronts and locked-up vendor stalls. Dabi's body was a furnace—waves of oppressive heat rolling off him with every step. Smoke drifted from his exposed skin in long, whispering tendrils, rising not just from the usual patchwork of scar tissue, but from new cracks forming at the seams. His body was betraying him.
He stopped suddenly, stumbling beside a shuttered market door. One hand caught the rusted metal frame for balance, the other pressing against his ribs as he doubled over with a pained groan.
“Fuck… this actually hurts,” he rasped, his voice ragged and tight. Thin wisps of blue smoke streamed from his lips. “I could never feel pain before—not after that damn coma…”
Jess’s heart clenched. She reached a hand toward him, hesitated, then lowered it. The heat radiating from his body was unnatural—searing—and she knew touching him would be like grabbing molten metal. But what truly terrified her wasn’t the temperature.
It was the change.
The black dye in his hair had begun to dissolve, now sliding down his temples and neck in messy, ink-stained streaks. Beneath it, snowy-white strands gleamed—raw, exposed, and unmistakable. The illusion he had kept for years was quite literally melting away. Worse still, his scars were spreading—slowly but visibly. The discolored, damaged skin crept past its original borders like fire consuming paper, traveling up his collarbone, tracing the edges of his shoulder, even creeping toward his jawline with an eerie, almost sentient persistence.
Jess’s breath caught. Something inside him was… awakening. Or unraveling.
She glanced around the alley, searching—grasping for anything to buy them more time. Her eyes landed on a coiled garden hose hanging beside a rusted faucet. Without a word, she moved toward it and twisted the knob. Miraculously, water sputtered to life.
“Do you want me to cool you down before Shouto gets here?” she asked, her voice soft but trembling.
Dabi didn’t look up at first. Then he let out a low, raspy chuckle. “Lay it on me, babe,” he muttered, arms falling open in surrender.
Jess offered a breathy, nervous laugh—barely more than a puff of air—as she lifted the hose and aimed.
The moment the freezing water hit his burning skin, a sharp, violent hiss echoed through the alleyway. It was like tossing water onto heated metal—instant steam erupted, swirling around them in dense, silvery clouds. The sizzling was deafening. Jess flinched but didn’t stop. The dye that remained in his hair washed away in dark streaks, swirling down the drain as the full crown of white was revealed beneath.
Dabi’s head tilted back, eyes fluttering shut. His chest heaved with a deep, smoke-laced exhale.
“Ohh… fuck… that feels incredible…”
Jess didn’t respond. She just watched him through the mist, her hand steady on the hose. Water pooled at his feet, rushing into nearby grates as if trying to take the heat with it. She could see his body trembling—part from pain, part from fear.
He was scared.
And so was she.
Because whatever was happening to him—it wasn’t just a flare-up.
Something inside Dabi was stirring—no, raging.
It wasn’t just his quirk misfiring. It was as if something buried deep within him had begun to crack open, bleeding heat and flame into every cell of his body. Smoke curled off his skin in thick, rolling waves, his breathing rough and uneven. His scars glowed faintly now, not just from overuse but from whatever was awakening inside him.
Then came the sound—familiar and sharp—the rapid whoosh of feathers cutting through air.
Jess looked up just in time to see a burst of crimson descend from above. Hawks landed with a sharp gust of wind, skidding across the slick alleyway pavement, his wings folding tight behind him as his boots hit the ground with practiced grace. Shouto was with him, already pushing forward—but he immediately staggered back a step from the oppressive wave of heat rolling off his brother’s body.
“Holy hell…” Hawks muttered, shielding his face with his wing. “He’s really burning up.”
Shouto’s eyes widened in alarm. “Touya-nii…”
Dabi looked over his shoulder, grinning despite the smoke coiling from his mouth.
“Shouto,” he drawled, voice low and cracking. “Help your big brother out, would ya? Come on—with your stupid ice powers.”
Jess groaned quietly under her breath. “Touya… don’t be mean.”
Dabi waved one hand lazily through the air, blue embers flickering from his fingertips. “That’s me being affectionate. C’mon, little brother—put that frosty touch to work.”
There was no sarcasm in Shouto’s expression—just urgency, concern, and something deeper. He nodded once, then stepped forward, releasing a sharp breath as he focused. The temperature around him began to shift. His left side lit up with shimmering frost, and within seconds, thick sheets of ice began to spiral outward from his palm, flowing in precise controlled streams toward Dabi.
The instant it touched him, steam erupted again, louder and more aggressive than before.
Dabi inhaled sharply—but didn't pull away.
“Yeah,” he hissed. “That’s the stuff…”
Hawks stood a few feet back, unable to get closer. Even with his high pain threshold and pro-hero endurance, the heat radiating from Dabi’s body was borderline unbearable.
He tapped the communicator in his earpiece. “I’ve delivered Todoroki,” he said briskly. “But I can’t get close—Dabi’s radiating way too much heat. I’m staying back to monitor. All Pro Heroes enroute, be advised—traffic in the central Musutafu sector must be halted immediately. Priority escort protocol is now in effect. They have five blocks left before reaching the Celtican Embassy.”
He turned his eyes toward the rising towers in the distance, watching the faint outline of the Embassy dome glinting in the horizon haze. They had to make it there.
And fast.
Jess, watching the scene unfold, kept her hand clenched tightly around the damp hose at her side. Her eyes were locked on Dabi—his scars spreading like living fire, his skin steaming under layers of ice and pain—and all she could do was pray.
They moved swiftly through the narrow back alleys of Musutafu—Jess at Dabi’s side, Shouto flanking his brother with a steady stream of ice trailing from his fingers. The heat radiating off Dabi’s body was overwhelming now. Steam hissed with every step, rising off his clothes, his skin, the pavement itself.
Dabi stumbled, one hand bracing against the brick wall. His breathing was ragged.
“Fuck… it hurts…” he groaned, head hanging.
Jess’s eyes flashed with worry. She reached for him, hesitating when she felt the heat searing off his body.
“Touya, please—we’re close.”
They turned onto a wider road—only a few blocks from the Celtican Embassy. Pedestrians gasped and stepped back, staring at the scorched pavement and the ice melting beneath their feet.
“Be careful,” Dabi rasped. “Don’t get too close… I don’t want to burn you…”
They moved forward, but a sudden roar of an engine ripped through the tension. A car turned the corner, speeding directly toward them—blinded by panic, unaware of the danger ahead.
Before anyone could react, a white flash dropped from above.
Mirko slammed onto the hood of the vehicle, denting it so hard the front axle cracked. The car skidded to a stop, smoke pouring from the tires.
She didn’t hesitate. “What the hell are you thinking?! This road’s blocked for a reason!”
Then she turned, her eyes narrowing as she spotted Jess.
“Go on, Princess—keep moving.”
Her gaze flicked to Dabi, and her expression shifted. “Damn, you look like shit…”
Dabi gave a weak smirk. “Yeah, thanks… bunny girl…”
And then—he collapsed.
Jess and Shouto dropped beside him as he hit the ground, his body wracked with tremors. Steam hissed louder. The air around him shimmered with rising heat.
“TOUYA!” Jess screamed, panic twisting her voice.
Shouto was already channeling ice into his brother’s back, his palms glowing pale blue.
Mirko took a step forward but flinched, shielding her face from the intense heat. “Holy shit…”
Dabi’s left arm was breaking apart—his skin flaking to blackened ash, muscle disintegrating as if devoured from within.
“T-Touya—your arm—!” Jess cried out, her voice cracking as her eyes flooded with tears.
The heat shimmered off the cracked pavement, thick and suffocating. Dabi’s body was still smoking, and where his left arm had once been, the skin had begun to disintegrate—flesh flaking like ash in the wind, exposing the unnatural glow of raw energy beneath.
They all turned as a figure stepped out from the nearby shadows.
He wore a long, pale coat that fluttered around his ankles, and his white hair caught the faint morning light. Ice crystals crackled beneath his boots, trailing frost along the edge of the sidewalk as he approached with eerie calm.
“Shesh, Dabi,” the man muttered, voice low and unimpressed. “You really are losing control, aren’t you?”
Dabi turned toward the sound weakly, his breath ragged. “Geten… is this a friendly visit or hostile?”
Geten raised a brow. “Friendly, you idiot. You’re still my fellow lieutenant—I don’t care if you’ve left the Liberation Front.”
He shifted his gaze to Shouto, nodding once. “Little cousin.”
Shouto blinked in stunned confusion. “I was told we’re first cousins but… I never—”
“Yes, we never met,” Geten interrupted. “I ran away after Touya died.”
Dabi let out a short, broken laugh. “I didn’t die, asshole. I’m right here… fuck, I think my arm is gone…”
Geten’s sharp eyes widened in disbelief. “No… it can’t be… Touya…?”
Jess’s voice suddenly cut through the moment, fierce and filled with desperation. “ENOUGH! We need to get him to the embassy—NOW!”
Geten stepped forward, surveying the crumbling remains of Dabi’s arm and the raw heat bleeding off his body. His lips tightened into a line.
“We’re wasting time.” His voice was curt but not unkind. He turned to Shouto with a sharp nod. “Come on, little cousin. Let’s make an ice slide—get them to the embassy faster.”
Shouto didn’t hesitate. “Right.”
Without another word, both men stepped forward in unison. Geten knelt down, slamming his palm to the ground as frost burst outward from beneath him. At the same moment, Shouto swept his arm across the air, layers of dense ice erupting from the concrete and spiraling upward.
Jagged shards fused into smooth, glistening rails, forming a wide path that arched and curved over the rooftops—stretching toward the towering silhouette of the Celtican Embassy in the near distance. The structure gleamed like a beacon of salvation under the pale morning light.
“Princess Jess, get him on the slide!” Geten called out, ice still flowing beneath his fingertips.
Jess didn’t waste a second. She crouched beside Dabi, her artificial hand bracing his back.
“Come on, Touya. Just hold on a little longer,” she whispered.
Dabi hissed in pain, but managed a weak smirk. “Shit… if I die, bury me in my kickass Villian leather jacket.”
“You’re not dying,” Jess snapped, her voice trembling. “Not on my watch.”
With Shouto’s help, they lifted Dabi onto the slick platform. He groaned as his body jolted, steam curling from his skin.
Geten straightened. “I’ll keep the ice path solid from behind. Shouto, go ahead and guide the front.”
“I got it,” Shouto replied, moving forward as more ice grew beneath his boots.
The four of them launched down the slide—Jess gripping Dabi tightly in her arms, his weight pressed into her chest, smoke curling around them like a warning. Shouto led from the front, carving through the air with frost, while Geten followed at the rear—reinforcing the trail with raw, shimmering power.
They had only minutes to spare.
And not one of them intended to let him burn.
The towering gates of the Celtican Embassy stood wide open, their mirrored surfaces catching the early autumn light. Futuristic walls, sleek and unmarred, shimmered with woven circuitry that pulsed faintly beneath their surface—an elegant blend of magic and technology unique to Celtican design. Stationed at the front were two commanding figures—Sir Frank Valkyrie, his stance sharp and alert, and River Dovahkiin, arms folded, her cyan dragon eyes fixed intently on the horizon like a predator sensing disturbance.
Then, a sharp whoosh split the stillness.
A winding arc of ice shimmered into view, soaring high above the treetops and curving toward the embassy's landing plaza like a frozen comet. It was fast. Controlled. Dangerous.
Frank’s violet gaze narrowed. “They’re here.”
River shifted her stance instantly, scales flickering along her exposed arms as tension coiled through her frame.
The slide dipped downward in a final elegant sweep, and a flurry of motion followed—Shouto Todoroki leapt off the front edge, planting his boots on solid ground with practiced control. Jess came behind him, her arms wrapped tightly around Dabi’s smoldering frame, her footing barely catching the landing. The sheer weight of his collapsing body nearly pulled her down with him.
Behind them, Geten landed in a soft crunch of frost, gliding down with his arms spread for balance.
“FRANK! THE BAND!” Jess’s voice cracked with urgency, tears already breaking loose.
Frank was already in motion. His body blurred, light spilling off him in shimmering waves as his quirk ignited.
Jess stumbled forward, struggling under Dabi’s full weight. “His right arm—his left is gone!” she cried, her voice torn and raw. The heat radiating off him burned through her shirt; she hissed and gritted her teeth, refusing to let go.
Dabi groaned weakly, a whorl of smoke curling from between his lips. His remaining arm trembled violently, skin cracked and blistered from the inside out. The other arm—what had once been his left—was gone, disintegrated to ash.
River rushed to their side, stopping only as the heat forced her to brace herself. Steam wavered off the scorched pavement around them. Her breath caught for a moment, then steadied as the draconic energy within her flared in defense. Her scales shimmered blue along her jawline and arms as she braced against the thermal wave.
Frank reached them without hesitation.
From beneath the folds of his pale coat, he withdrew a pristine white Luminite band. It gleamed faintly with teal-lit circuitry, embossed with the royal crest of Celtica and engraved with arcane glyphs. He clicked it open, eyes scanning Dabi with ruthless precision.
Then, in one fluid motion, he snapped the band around Dabi’s remaining wrist.
The moment it sealed, a pulse of frigid light erupted from the clasp. It surged outward in a sweeping wave, cooling Dabi’s entire form in a single, radiant breath. The smoke halted. The blistering heat ceased.
And Dabi collapsed fully into Jess’s arms, unconscious—his body limp, scorched, but no longer searing from within.
The fire had been contained.
Jess sank to her knees, cradling him close, her artificial arm trembling from the strain. Tears streaked down her cheeks—relief, terror, and love etched into every breath she took. Her voice trembled as she whispered, “You’re okay now… just hold on…”
Frank stepped back slowly, adjusting his coat as the glow from the Luminite band faded into silence. River exhaled beside him, her gaze still locked on the pair on the ground—calculating, protective, unreadable.
The moment the clasp locked, a pulse of cold light surged from the device, spreading rapidly through Dabi’s body. The smoking ceased. The heat stopped rising.
For now, the fire had been contained.
Jess cradled him tightly, her eyes wet with relief, her chest heaving.
“He’s stable,” Frank said, voice steady but tight. “But we need to get him to the med wing. Now.”
“Right,” River nodded. “I’ll clear the path.”
Geten silently walked over, looking down at Dabi with an unreadable expression.
Jess didn’t let go.
Not yet.
Chapter Text
The quiet hum of machines filled the room—soft, steady beeps punctuating the sterile air. The walls of the Celtican Embassy's medical wing gleamed with polished white panels accented by soft blue lighting, casting a calming glow over the patient's room. Despite the advanced technology and pristine surroundings, it felt more like a tomb than a sanctuary.
Touya lay still in the center of it all.
His body was wrapped in reinforced medical linens, hooked to monitors that tracked his vitals. The Luminite band around right his wrist pulsed faintly, regulating the unstable flare of the quirk within him. His breathing was even but shallow. There were burn marks and charred patches across his remaining arm and chest—areas that had threatened to split open from the inside out until the band halted the surge.
Jess sat at his bedside, her fingers gently curled around his hand. Her thumb rubbed slow, grounding circles over the back of his knuckles, careful not to disturb the IV line running beneath. Her eyes were rimmed red from the tears she'd fought earlier, but now they stared quietly at him—watchful. Her long black lashes trembled faintly.
He was so still. So silent.
Not like the Dabi she knew—brash, snarky, burning too hot for his own good. Not like the Touya she loved—restless and wounded, but alive.
The door hissed softly as it closed behind someone.
Shouto walked in, his usually composed face shadowed by worry. He carried a small, frost-chilled thermos in his hand, condensation fogging the sides. He said nothing at first—just approached, pausing beside Jess. His eyes flicked to his brother, then to her.
"How is he?" Shouto asked softly.
Jess exhaled. "Stable. For now."
A quiet passed between them. The sound of Touya's heart monitor was the only thing breaking the silence.
"Frank went to get your family," she added after a moment, her voice low. "Including... Enji."
Shouto nodded, not surprised—but not at ease, either. His grip on the thermos tightened.
Outside the room, the echo of boots against tile could be heard. Geten paced the hallway, keeping his distance but never straying too far. A subtle layer of frost lined the floor near where he stood, trailing from the heels of his boots. The air around him stayed cold—as if on instinct.
And elsewhere, deeper in the embassy, Princess Dawn stood in another wing, speaking calmly but firmly with the Liberation Front lieutenants—Mr. Compress among them—who had come seeking asylum.
Outside the gleaming white towers of the Celtican Embassy, the rooftop helipad buzzed with anticipation. The wind whipped across the open space, scattering a few stray leaves as a sleek silver helicopter descended, its rotors slicing through the sky like blades of ice.
James Mikcloud Kuran stood waiting at the edge of the landing pad, his long black coat billowing slightly around his legs. The golden streak in his hair caught the sunlight, and his sharp golden eyes narrowed against the rush of wind. Beside him, a pair of guards stood at attention, their uniforms bearing the emblem of the royal house.
The helicopter's landing gear touched down with a light thud, and the engines slowly began to power down with a high-pitched whine. As the side doors hissed open, a wave of sterilized, recycled air spilled out—followed by the sharp clicking of high-tech heels.
The wind gusted gently across the rooftop landing pad of the Celtican Embassy, tugging at the edges of James Kuran's dark coat. He stood tall and composed, hands clasped behind his back, gold eyes sharp beneath the glare of the morning sun. The sound of approaching rotor blades grew louder as a sleek, white-and-silver medical helicopter descended from the sky, its hull marked with the royal crest of Celtica.
The chopper hovered for a breath before touching down with surgical precision. The blades slowed, whirring into a gradual silence as the hatch hissed open.
Dr. Vi stepped out first.
She was a vision of calculated poise—her white medical coat pristine, sleeves crisp, the fabric catching the light with every step. Her lime green eyes, unreadable behind shimmering holographic lenses, flicked toward the man waiting for her. Black hair, tied neatly into a clinical bun, didn't shift even slightly in the breeze. A glowing digital tablet hovered in her left hand, linked wirelessly to the medical transport's onboard data.
Mai, her personal nurse, followed closely behind—dressed in sleek white scrubs trimmed with thin blue lines. Her short bob moved as she glanced down at the holographic diagnostic readouts, already preparing for whatever condition lay ahead.
"Vi," James greeted calmly, his voice low but steady.
"James," she replied, her brow arching faintly. "It's been a long time. And here I thought you retired from calling in favors. This about you?"
He shook his head. "It's about Dabi aka Touya Todoroki."
Vi's expression shifted at once.
"I know," she said quietly. "I recognized the name James, he did ask for me huh?"
James studied her. "It's been what—four years since you treated him?"
"Four and a half," she confirmed. "Cracked ribs, punctured lung, 30% tissue necrosis. He was barely alive when my team found him. I ran a blood panel to check for rejection and found something else." Her voice lowered. "I knew who he was the moment I saw the DNA."
"You kept it secret."
"He begged me to," Vi said simply. "And I agreed. He didn't want to be found. Didn't want to be 'saved.' Just wanted to survive. Not too mention I had re-build his face when a metal door slammed into him popping his that metal jaw that disgusting doctor put in him. I had to call bone specialist to rebuild his jawbone and a dentist to make his teeth."
James's jaw tightened. "Well, now he's dying again. His quirk is doing something new. Something bad. The Luminite band is keeping it in check—but it's not a permanent solution."
Vi nodded once. "Then let's move. Is Ethan enroute?"
"He's on his way. So is the rest of the medical team who rebuilt Jess's arm."Her lips tugged in the faintest smile. "Good. I look forward to working with my old student again."
Without wasting another second, she and Mai moved forward, flanked by Embassy guards. As the elevator doors slid open to receive them, James stood silently behind.Inside, the fire was waiting.
Dr. Vi and Mai moved down the quiet corridor of the Celtican Embassy's medical wing, their footsteps soft against the polished floors. The hum of fluorescent lights overhead was barely audible over the muffled beeping of vitals monitors behind the closed doors lining the hallway.
Up ahead, Geten stood near the entrance to Touya's room. He was no longer pacing—just standing completely still, arms folded tightly, his eyes locked on the door as if waiting for something... or bracing for it.
Then, without warning, the door to the patient room burst open.
Sora was flung out violently.
He hit the opposite wall with a loud thud, the impact rattling a nearby cart of supplies. A startled breath tore from his chest as he slid down, coughing once, before lifting his head.
Standing in the doorway, eyes glowing a furious emerald green, was Jess.
"If you ever touch me like that again," she hissed, voice low and trembling with barely contained emotion, "you'll regret it."
She stepped back and slammed the door shut, the click of the lock echoing with finality.
James, who had just rounded the corner with the group, halted instantly. His expression darkened.
"Sora," he said sharply, stepping forward, "what did you do to your sister?"
Sora slowly rotated his shoulder, wincing as he got to his feet. "I just gave her a hug..."
James's golden eyes narrowed. "Your mother explicitly told you—Jess doesn't like being touched by men. Not unless she trusts them. You know what she's been through."
Sora looked down, his tone defensive but quiet. "I just missed her..."
Vi exhaled audibly, adjusting her holographic lenses. "Really, Nightshade... that little sister complex of yours is something else."
Sora blinked at her in confusion—then did a double take. "Vi?! What are you doing here—wait, don't tell me. You're here to treat that guy? The one who stole my baby sister away from me?!"
James didn't even entertain the outburst.
With a groan, he reached out and grabbed Sora by the ear, yanking him away like he was ten years old again.
"OW—HEY! DAD—seriously?! I'm almost thirty!"
"Nope," James snapped, dragging him down the hall with practiced ease. "You can be a grown man after you stop acting like a jealous brat."
Vi smirked faintly, eyes still locked on the now-closed door to Touya's room.
Mai gave a quiet bow toward the guards before stepping aside to let Vi pass.
With a single nod, Vi approached the door—ready to face the flame inside.
The door to the medical room hissed open with a soft pneumatic shhhk, and Dr. Vi stepped inside.
She paused immediately upon entering.
The cold professionalism on her face faltered—just slightly—as her lime green eyes took in the state of the man lying before her.
Touya Todoroki—known to the world as Dabi—was barely recognizable beneath the burns and medical wrappings. His chest rose and fell in shallow, mechanical rhythms, the Luminite band around his right wrist still glowing with a soft, pulsing light, barely suppressing the chaos simmering beneath his skin.
Mai followed behind her, her hands already moving across her floating digital tablet, pulling up every vital, scan, and bloodwork file sent from the systems.
But Vi didn't speak at first.
She simply stood there.
Silent.
Frowning.
Not with disdain or disbelief—but with something closer to... disappointment.
In fate. In what had been done. In what had been allowed to go on for so long.
She approached the bedside quietly. Jess didn't move from her spot at Touya's side, her hand still wrapped protectively around his.
Vi's voice, when it came, was soft.
"I had a feeling it would be this bad..."
Her eyes traveled slowly over his body—the blistered skin, the fractured tissue around his shoulder, the discoloration spreading along his collarbone. The heat damage alone told her this was no ordinary flare-up.
Mai glanced up from the tablet. "His vitals are erratic but holding. Internal temperature is fluctuating around critical. The Luminite band is keeping it from spiking again, but the moment it comes off..."
Vi nodded. "It'll flare."
Jess looked up, her voice barely above a whisper. "Do you know what's happening to him?"
Vi didn't answer right away.
Instead, she studied the readings, then leaned in to gently inspect the remaining tissue on his arm—careful not to disturb the IV ports or the burns. Her gloved fingers hovered with practiced precision.
"No Princess," she said finally. "But this isn't normal quirk burnout. Not even from prolonged overuse."
She straightened, her brow furrowed deeply now. "Whatever this is... it's changing him on a cellular level."
Jess's grip on Touya's hand tightened.
"He's been like this since this morning," she said, her voice shaking slightly. "It started slow, but then his skin began... smoldering. His hair dye washed away. His scars spread. And then... his left arm..."
Vi exhaled slowly. "I'll need to run a full genetic scan. I want his bloodwork reanalyzed and cell regeneration mapped again. And I want a heat map overlayed against the nervous system patterns. Mai, notify Ethan the moment he arrives."
"Yes, Doctor," Mai said instantly.
Jess finally looked up, locking eyes with Vi.
"Please..." she whispered. "Just save him."
Vi's expression softened just slightly—then steeled with renewed focus.
"I didn't fix him twice just to let him burn now," she said firmly.
A soft chime sounded as Avatora's floating orb detached from the wall and hovered over with a gentle pulse of crystalline light. The voice that followed was smooth and respectful.
"Greetings, Dr. Viola Omi. I am Avatora," the AI intoned. "Recent scan data from the Luminite band is now ready. Transmitting to your device."
Vi glanced down as her tablet lit up. The display blinked once, then projected a holographic layout of internal damage scans. Her brow furrowed almost instantly.
"...His throat and tongue are severely burned," she murmured. "If he were to wake up now, he wouldn't be able to speak."
Jess's breath caught—her green eyes went wide as tears spilled freely down her cheeks. She clutched Touya's hand tighter, lips trembling.
In the corner, Shouto flinched. His fists curled at his sides, jaw clenched hard. Silent tears welled in his eyes, sliding down his face. It was like losing Touya all over again—but slower. Crueler.
Vi's eyes didn't waver.
"We need to act fast," she said to Mai. "Begin prepping for a full body stabilization field—but only with Ethan Murk's approval. His team is running this wing."
Mai nodded with quiet efficiency and turned toward the comms screen on the wall.
Vi stood at the foot of the bed now, her tablet lowering slowly as her gaze locked on Touya.
"He's not out of danger yet," she whispered. "But he's still fighting."
The polished conference chamber deep within the Celtican Embassy shimmered beneath soft crystalline lights embedded in the ceiling. Its sleek, obsidian-glass table reflected the tension in the room, where silence reigned heavier than any words.
At the head of it sat Princess Dawn Mikcloud Kuran.
Her figure was radiant yet commanding, dressed in a flawlessly tailored sky-blue suit—its double-breasted blazer fitted to perfection with gilded buttons bearing the Mikcloud crest. The high-waisted trousers fell in elegant, clean lines to her heels, and every detail of her appearance exuded both royal grace and sharp authority. Her raspberry hair had been swept into soft cascading waves, her emerald eyes focused, cool, and unreadable.
Before her stood the Liberation Front lieutenants—Spinner, Skeptic, Dabi's former comrades—lined up with tension written in every stance. Behind them, the guards flanked the room, armed yet still.
Mr. Compress was the one who finally stepped forward.
"We didn't come here to fight," he said, removing his mask out of respect. "We came to ask for sanctuary."
Dawn studied him, arms lightly folded at her waist.
"You came here," she said calmly, "seeking protection... after sheltering the man who imprisoned and harmed my daughter. But of course, I already know his actions and thoughts weren't truly his. They were All For One's. And you're here to ask for help in finding Tomura Shigaraki. Geten likes to talk when he's backed into a wall by me."
She stepped forward—slow, composed.
"You will be detained—comfortably and under watch—within our controlled diplomatic housing sector here at the Embassy. You will wear Luminite bands on your wrists for the time being. I trust you understand?"
Mr. Compress nodded without hesitation. "We understand."
Dawn's voice softened a touch, though it lost none of its edge.
"Should you betray that trust... not even the gods will find your bodies."
A quiet chill swept through the group.
She turned sharply on her heel, the gold chain of her bag catching the light as she gave one final order to the guards.
"Escort them to their holding suites. Feed them. Decontaminate them. They are not prisoners. But one wrong step, and I won't hesitate."
The guards saluted. The Liberation Front lieutenants were led away.
Dawn remained still in the quiet that followed, her eyes flicking toward one of the wall-mounted monitors—where a silent feed showed the medical wing. Her daughter sat beside a motionless Touya Todoroki.
Frank stepped through the tall Embassy doors, his presence quiet but commanding as always. Flanking him were Rei, Natsuo, Fuyumi—and trailing behind them, noticeably irritated, was Enji Todoroki.
The man scowled, his red brows furrowed as he barked, "What is going on? You drag me from my so-called 'prison' and bring me here, to the Embassy—without explanation?"
Natsuo shot him a sharp glare. "Prison, huh?" His voice was bitter. "You do realize it's the family estate, right? You're just suspended from hero duty. That place only feels like a prison to you now because you're finally getting a taste of what the rest of us lived through."
Enji's fists clenched. "Watch your mouth, boy—"
"No," Rei cut in coldly. Her tone made all of them stop. "You watch yours."
Enji turned to her, stunned. "What did you just—?"
But he didn't finish. The group rounded the corner into one of the Embassy's waiting corridors, and Rei suddenly stopped short—her eyes widening.
A tall figure stood near the wall. Pale, snowy hair, slate-blue eyes, and a cold composure that had always seemed detached... yet now softened.
Enji's face twisted. "Why is a member of the Liberation Front here?"
"Geten..." Rei whispered, stepping forward.
The young man gave a respectful nod. "Hello, Auntie." His voice was quiet—cautious.
He looked toward Natsuo. "Damn... you grew up. You're built like a tank now."
Natsuo blinked but didn't respond. His arms crossed tightly over his chest.
Then Geten shifted, offering a quieter nod toward the only one who hadn't spoken yet. "Fuyumi. Still trying out best Touya like its compation? I heard your cooking is still not that good as Touya's... pitty."
Fuyumi narrowed her eyes, clearly unsure, but she returned the greeting stiffly. "Hello... cousin."
Frank stepped between them then, voice even. "All of you—please sit. We'll explain what's happening in a moment."
He looked to Geten. "You too. Sit."
Geten obeyed with a nod, moving toward one of the white cushioned chairs along the side of the hall.
A heavy silence followed... but the weight of the coming truths hung in the air like an oncoming storm.
Doctor Vi and Mai had already stepped out of the room to meet with Dr. Ethan Murk and his approaching medical team. The air inside the chamber remained hushed—except for the soft beeping of monitors and the occasional flicker from the Luminite band on Touya's wrist.
Frank entered silently.
He paused just inside the doorway, his violet gaze flicking over to Shouto, who stood vigil in the corner, arms folded, eyes on his unconscious brother.
"Go on," Frank said gently. "They're outside."
Shouto hesitated only for a moment before nodding. He cast one last glance toward Jess and Touya, then slipped out the door without a word.
Frank approached the bed, slow and respectful. He didn't touch her—but instead crouched beside her seat at Touya's side, lowering himself to eye level.
"Princess..." he said softly, his tone devoid of any of his usual knightly sternness. "You have to eat something. Avatora's been monitoring your vitals. You're slightly dehydrated, and your glucose levels are dropping."
Jess didn't look at him. Her hand remained locked with Touya's, her grip delicate but firm, as if her will alone could anchor him to the world.
"I'm afraid..." she whispered, voice trembling. "If I leave his side, he'll be gone. I don't want to leave his side..."
Tears slipped from her eyes again—fresh, silent, and raw. They slid down her cheeks and dripped onto the edge of the blanket near his chest.
Frank's eyes softened further. He exhaled through his nose, then placed a hand lightly on the edge of the mattress—not touching her, but grounding himself in the moment.
"I know it feels like that," he murmured. "You remember what happened with Rick... I do too. You stopped eating. Stopped sleeping. You nearly followed him into the grave."
Jess's lip quivered, and she bowed her head, shoulders shaking.
Frank continued gently. "But this isn't the same. Touya's still here. He's fighting. And he'll keep fighting—but he needs you strong, not fading beside him."
She didn't speak. But the way she clutched Touya's hand a little tighter told him she heard every word.
He stayed there, crouched beside her in silence, giving her time.
"He's right," came a calm voice from the doorway.
Jess's head snapped up, eyes wide. "Yuki..."
Standing just inside the room was her cousin—Yuki Mikcloud, 1st Crown Prince of Celtica. Dressed in his usual blend of elegance and quiet regality, his white hair was loosely brushed back, and his violet eyes sparkled with a familiar warmth.
"I figured you might need someone else," Yuki said with a gentle smile.
Before Jess could respond, something small and agile leapt up onto the bed with a soft fwump.
A silver Egyptian Mau landed delicately near Touya's side. The cat's coat shimmered with sleek stripes, and its golden eyes scanned the room before settling on Jess.
"Anubis..." she whispered.
He meowed in greeting—sharp and clear, tail flicking once before he padded closer to her.
"I've been taking care of him since you were taken," Yuki added, stepping into the room more fully. "He's missed you, you know."
Jess reached out slowly, fingers trembling as they brushed through the soft fur along Anubis's back. The cat purred, pressing into her touch, his gaze still shifting between her and the motionless man beside her.
"I missed you too, bud," she murmured. "Anubis... this is Touya. Can you watch him for me?"
The cat blinked at her, then turned his head toward Touya. After a few long seconds, his ears flicked forward, and he sat, curling his tail around his paws. He glanced back at Jess and gave a single, slow nod.
Jess let out a shaky breath, a tiny laugh breaking through the tears. "You're such a smart cat..."
Yuki smiled softly and moved to stand beside Frank at the back of the room, giving Jess and Anubis their space. The presence of something familiar—something pure and comforting—settled the ache in her chest, if only a little.
And on the bed, Anubis stayed still, like a silent sentinel watching over Touya.
As the door to Touya's room slid shut behind them, tension surged like a silent storm in the waiting lounge.
Enji stood with his arms folded, irritation radiating from every line in his body. His ankle monitor glinted with soft Luminite pulses beneath the cuff of his dark pants. "Why are we still here?" he barked, the volume of his voice rising. "You pull me from house arrest, bring me to this embassy—and no one tells me a damn thing."
Rei, trying to keep her tone calm, replied quietly, "Please, Enji... just shut the hell up.."
But he turned on her instantly, voice sharp and cutting. "Watch your mouth, Rei."
She recoiled—just slightly—but it was enough. The air in the corridor shifted. A chill of something ancient and raw.
Shoto shot to his feet so fast his chair clattered backward. His fists clenched, and his eyes flashed dangerously. "Don't talk to her like that."
Natsuo was right behind him, stepping forward in front of Rei protectively. "You don't get to intimidate her. Not anymore."
Even Geten stood, slow and deliberate, his frosty stare locking on Enji with unsettling silence.
Fuyumi wavered, eyes darting between her father and brothers, caught between her long-standing habit of trying to keep peace—and the sharp truth unraveling in front of her.
And then—
Footsteps.
Jess stormed across the hallway, face flushed with heat and eyes glowing a sharp, unnatural green. Her black shorts swished as she moved, the hem of her grey cardigan trailing slightly behind her. Her converse slightly squeaked on the floor. Her steps were soundless—but the rage she carried made the walls hold their breath.
She didn't hesitate.
With a sudden surge, she stepped right up to Enji and slapped him. Hard.
The impact rang like thunder—sending him stumbling back with real force. He collided against the wall, shocked not just by the strike, but by the sheer power behind it.
"You will watch your mouth, Enji Todoroki," Jess said coldly, her voice laced with fury and authority. "You don't speak to her like that. You don't speak to any of them like that."
She didn't yell.
She didn't need to.
Her words held the weight of suffering endured and strength rediscovered. Her bare feet planted on the embassy floor with more presence than any boots or heels could offer.
"You were brought here because your son is dying," she continued, tears welling in her eyes but her voice unwavering. "Not to throw your weight around. Not to keep hurting the people who've been bleeding to keep standing."
Enji sat there, stunned into silence.
Rei covered her mouth with one hand, visibly trembling.
Shoto's expression softened just slightly as he watched Jess.
Natsuo smiled—briefly, and with pride.
Even Geten looked away, a quiet breath leaving him trying not to laugh.
Jess stood firm, her green eyes still glowing with fury and heartbreak. The silence in the hallway was thick—until Enji blinked up at her from the floor, confusion slowly clouding his features.
"My son is... dying?" he repeated, his voice uncertain. He looked at Shoto and Natsuo. "My sons are right here... Your Highness, I think you're mistaken—"
"Touya is alive!" Jess snapped, her voice cutting through the air like a blade.
Enji froze.
"He is Dabi!" she shouted, pointing toward the room behind her. "That boy you called a failure—your son—is in that room, dying! He didn't activate his quirk, Enji. He just woke up and it went haywire. He was burning alive and couldn't stop it!"
Her voice cracked.
"We had such a..." Her face flushed crimson, and she looked away briefly.
Rei gasped softly. Natsuo's eyes widened.
"No way—you and Touya-nii—" he started, before Rei smacked his arm.
"Natsuo, hush!"
Jess ran a trembling hand through her hair and exhaled sharply. "Enji... his entire left arm is gone. It disintegrated before our eyes. We barely got him here in time. Frank slapped a Luminite band on his remaining wrist just to stop the quirk from killing him."
She stared Enji down, every word layered in pain and righteous rage.
"He's in there right now... in a fucking coma!"
Enji didn't respond. His mouth parted slightly, but no sound came out. The weight of it—the truth—was a tsunami crashing down on him.
Enji didn't respond. His mouth parted slightly, but no sound came out. The weight of it—the truth—was a tsunami crashing down on him.
And Jess, trembling, stood as the living storm that delivered it.
"I love him!" she yelled, voice raw and fierce. "And he loves me! So you will sit your ass back in that chair and you will respect everyone here—or so help me, I'll have you stuffed into the detention center where you actually belong!"
Her words echoed off the corridor walls like thunder, cracking the stunned silence that followed. No one dared to speak. Not Fuyumi. Not Natsuo. Not Shouto Not even Enji.
He slowly lowered his gaze, the fire in her eyes more blinding than anything he had ever wielded.
Frank stepped over quietly, his presence calm and steady despite the tension still lingering in the air. He lowered his voice as he approached Jess.
"Princess," he said gently, "the nurses are here. They're ready to take Touya to the medical scanning chamber where Dr. Vi, Ethan, and the rest of the doctors are waiting to do a full scan."
Jess looked toward the room, her expression softening. The nurses stood respectfully just outside the doorway, waiting for her permission to enter. Their posture was patient, professional—but clearly on standby.
Jess gave a faint smile and nodded. "Please... be careful with him. Also—Anubis, come here bud."
As if on cue, the soft jingling of tiny bells echoed down the hall. Anubis trotted gracefully from the room, the silver Egyptian Mau leaping up onto Jess's shoulder with feline ease. He gave a quiet, affectionate meow, brushing his face against her cheek.
Jess reached up and gently scratched under his chin. "Thank you for watching over him, Anubis."
Yuki chuckled, hands in his pockets. "I swear, that cat understands more than most people."
Rei, watching the exchange fondly, tilted her head and smiled. "Touya adores animals. Oh—Natsuo, do you remember Bynx?"
Natsuo blinked, caught off guard. "Wait—Bynx? That black cat who used to hang around the old shed? Yeah! I do remember. Touya loved her... used to sneak food to her all the time. When he... when we thought he died... she just vanished."
Enji's brows furrowed. "I... took her to the pound."
The room fell into silence.
Rei stood up so fast her chair scraped harshly against the floor. Her whole frame shook with rage. "You took her to the pound? Not a shelter?! She was Touya's cat!"
Natsuo's jaw clenched, his hands balling into fists. Shouto narrowed "Cat Killer..." Even Yuki looked disgusted, his expression turning icy.
Jess clutched Anubis tightly to her chest, her arms curled protectively around the silver-coated Egyptian Mau. The cat's luminous green eyes darted about, ears pressed flat, his tail wrapping tightly around her forearm. Though still, Anubis was tense—his every instinct attuned to Jess's emotions. He could feel it in her heartbeat. The anxiety. The pain. The dread.
The hallway had grown quiet, too quiet. No more arguments. No more words. Just a shared sense of heaviness, like the entire air had thickened into molasses. The presence of grief was suffocating—hovering like fog around them all.
Frank Valkyrie stood nearby, his posture calm but alert. He didn't need to speak. His presence alone acted as a steady pillar in the emotional storm. His white uniform gleamed beneath the lighting, his expression unreadable but filled with the weight of everything left unsaid.
Then came the soft hiss of the medical wing doors sliding open.
The nurses emerged.
The stretcher wheeled forward, the rhythmic click of its motion echoing like a metronome counting down time they didn't have.
Touya lay unconscious beneath a pristine white linen sheet, secured gently to the frame. The Luminite band around his wrist glowed faintly, pulsing in steady intervals. His white hair—stripped of dye—was disheveled, falling like feathers across his forehead. The burn patterns along his chest and the jagged edge where his left arm had once been were now fully visible. Pale. Raw. Exposed. His body looked hollowed out—caught between destruction and survival.
Rei gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. Tears pooled instantly in her eyes. She took a step forward, one trembling hand bracing herself against the wall. "Oh my god..." she whispered. "My baby..."
Natsuo gritted his teeth. His fists clenched, knuckles whitening as a sound like a choked breath tore from his throat. "Touya-nii..." he murmured, voice splintering. "Shit..."
Enji said nothing. For once, the man who had commanded cities with his glare could only stand in stunned, shaken silence. His eyes—once burning with authority—now stared hollowly at the broken body of the son he thought was lost. Gone. Buried. But here he was... barely breathing.
Fuyumi's breath caught. She covered her mouth, her eyes wide and shining. "He's really here..." she whispered. "He's alive..." Her knees gave slightly, and she reached out, gripping Natsuo's sleeve for support.
Jess watched them all but never let go of Anubis. Her gaze remained locked on Touya.
Her voice came, low but steady. "Take him," she said to the nurses. "Bring him to the scanning room."
The nurses nodded, hesitating only for her final signal. Jess tilted her head gently. That was enough.
As the stretcher began to move, Jess turned toward Frank. "Please go with them. I trust you more than anyone else in that room."
Frank gave her a small nod, silent as always.
Then, Jess added more quietly, "Mom is here."
At that moment, a soft clicking of heels on marble broke through the hush.
Princess Dawn Mikcloud Kuran strode into view.
Her emerald eyes flicked over the scene, resting on Jess for the briefest of moments before falling on Touya.
There was no visible reaction. No cry. No flinch. Only the quiet hardening of her jaw.
"Go on, Frank," she said evenly, her voice cool and absolute.
Frank dipped his head and fell into step beside the stretcher as the nurses began to wheel Touya down the corridor.
The family remained where they were, frozen in the wake of it.
And Jess... she simply stood there—still as stone—her green eyes focused straight ahead, Anubis meowing softly in her arms.
Inside the high-tech medical scanning chamber of the Celtican Embassy, soft pulses of light flowed from the large diagnostic archway, illuminating Touya Todoroki's unmoving form. The room felt weightless—futuristic—its silver walls lined with transparent panels and holographic monitors scrolling through reams of data too fast for any normal person to follow. But this was no ordinary team.
Dr. Ethan Murk stood at the center, emerald eyes narrowed behind slim-rimmed glasses, his black hair slicked back from hours of focus. The diagnostic feed on his holopad shifted every second. "His skin is trying to regenerate... but it's being countered by an aggressive heat source within the dermis. The pattern doesn't match any known quirk-trigger."
"Muscle tissue is shredded from the inside out," Dr. Lisa reported as she manipulated a floating anatomy model, exposing the deep nerve damage along Touya's right side. "It's not quirk-activated tearing. It's spontaneous... almost like an internal flare."
Dr. Julia tapped into the organ display, frowning deeply. "His lungs are inflamed—charred in some areas. But he wasn't using his quirk at the time of injury, was he?"
"No," Ethan confirmed, "according to the preliminary report, he woke up like this. No active quirk usage. This is spontaneous combustion from within."
Dr. Mike gritted his teeth as he studied the tissue overlays. "There's necrosis spreading rapidly along his torso and arms. It's not following any normal quirk-based decay or infection path—it's like the tissue is being... overcooked from the inside."
"His cells aren't trying to repair. They're shutting down—one layer at a time. Like something is forcing his body to cannibalize itself." Ethan confirmed as he reviewed the thermal scan
"Almost like his own heat is liquefying his tissue," Dr. Lisa added grimly. "But his quirk wasn't even active when this started."
"Something is confusing his cells," Dr. Jake added. He stood beside the jaw scan he had repaired last year. "The bone I rebuilt is still intact, but the surrounding structure is under strain. The scar tissue is trying to reactivate—like it's bracing for more trauma."
Dr. Ethan Murk exhaled sharply through his nose, lowering the holopad slightly. His tone was tight with urgency. "We don't have time to wait for a miracle. We need to prep him for emergency surgery—now."
Dr. Lisa stepped back from the anatomy scan and nodded. "We can't reverse what's happened, but we can try to stabilize and rebuild what's left before the decay spreads further. I'll handle the neural repairs—there's deep synaptic burn across the spinal root and right brachial plexus."
"I'll coordinate the internal organ recovery," Dr. Julia added, her brows furrowed. "The inflammation in his lungs is worsening with every minute. We need to recreate viable tissue before his oxygen saturation drops further."
"I'll take the muscle layers," Dr. Mike said, already scrolling through simulations on his interface. "We'll need to reinforce the damaged tissues with regenerative mesh—we can't rely on natural healing, not with how unstable his system is."
Dr. Jake, arms crossed over his coat, gave a slow nod. "I'll check his skeletal frame for stress fractures. The left side may need reinforcement plates if we want him to regain full function."
Ethan nodded, absorbing everything. "We'll sedate and intubate him before transfer to the surgical wing. Vi, I'll need you to monitor core vitals in real time—your healing boost can buy us seconds if anything fails mid-operation."
Vi's expression remained unreadable. "I'll be right there. I didn't fix him twice just to watch him fall apart now."
Ethan turned to his team, voice firm. "You all know your assignments. We move within fifteen minutes."
A heavy pause filled the room as the gravity of the task pressed in.
The low hum of the diagnostic chamber filled the space between words.
"Someone's going to have to inform Jess," Dr. Julia said quietly, her eyes lingering on the shifting vitals on the nearest holoscreen. "And the family. Together."
The team fell into a thoughtful silence, the weight of that task settling in their chests like cold stone.
Dr. Ethan Murk's jaw tensed. His emerald eyes flicked toward the surgical wing's prep schedule already blinking on his holopad. Then he nodded—once, sharply.
"We all have to go there together," he said, his voice steady, but firm with conviction. "To tell the Princess. And his family. We are, after all, his doctors."
His team exchanged solemn glances. They weren't just healers anymore. They were the bridge between hope and harsh reality—between the life Touya might still have and the truth of how close he had come to losing it.
Dr. Lisa exhaled and muttered, "She's not going to take this well."
"She doesn't have to," Dr. Vi replied calmly as she adjusted her gloves, her gaze resting on the unconscious man—her patient, and Jess's partner. "She just needs to know we won't stop fighting for him. Not now. Not ever."
Ethan nodded again, turning toward the door. "Let's go. We don't keep royalty—or the woman who loves him—waiting."
And with that, the team turned together, their footsteps echoing softly as they exited the chamber. Behind them, the scanners continued their quiet work—monitoring the boy with fire in his veins, a phoenix struggling to rise from the ashes.
The air in the waiting lounge of the Celtican Embassy medical wing was tense—so thick with unspoken worry it felt like it might crack beneath the weight of silence. The space was sleek, minimalist in design, with soft lights embedded into the ceiling and walls lined with scrolling digital monitors showing real-time vitals. Yet for those gathered, the futuristic comforts did nothing to dull the gnawing dread.
Jess sat hunched at the edge of a plush grey seat, her hands twisted tightly in her lap. Dawn stood behind her, arms folded, face unreadable but stormy beneath the surface. Yuki leaned against a glass wall nearby, arms crossed, his purple eyes flicking to the door every few seconds. Rei was quietly whispering to Natsuo beside her, who sat with his knees bouncing in barely contained anxiety. Shouto paced slowly near the far corner, his hands in his pockets, occasionally glancing toward the door. Fuyumi sat stiffly, her fingers tangled in the hem of her skirt. Enji... stood apart, arms crossed, his expression unreadable—until one looked closely enough to see the regret tightening his features.
Anubis was curled calmly on one of the seats near Jess, grooming his silver paws like he didn't sense the storm around him—but his ears twitched toward the sound of every footstep.
Then the doors slid open.
Dr. Ethan Murk was the first to step through, white coat pristine and tablet tucked under his arm. His emerald green eyes flicked instantly to Jess. Behind him walked Dr. Vi, calm and composed, followed by the rest of the medical team: Dr. Lisa, Dr. Julia, Dr. Mike, and Dr. Jake. Each wore matching solemn expressions, eyes heavy with knowledge not yet spoken.
Jess shot up so fast the chair groaned behind her, nearly startling Anubis. Her long grey cardigan swayed around her as she stepped forward, her green eyes wide and rimmed with exhaustion.
"Ethan," she breathed, voice tight, "please... tell me something good."
The team exchanged glances—one silent heartbeat of hesitation before Ethan stepped forward. He looked Jess in the eye, and though his voice was steady, it was quiet with weight.
"The Luminite band is still suppressing the worst of the reaction, but the internal damage... it's extensive. And worsening."
Jess's breath hitched. "But there's more...?"
"Yes," Vi answered, stepping in smoothly beside Ethan. "His body is... tearing itself apart from within. We don't know why yet, but we have to act now. If we wait, there may not be anything left to save."
"We're prepping him for emergency surgery," Ethan added. "Multiple reconstructive operations. Internal damage control. He'll be under for a long time."
Rei raised a trembling hand to her mouth. Natsuo sat forward, eyes wide. Shouto stopped pacing. Yuki's gaze turned sharp.
Jess stood frozen—unable to speak, unable to breathe. Her green eyes remained locked on Ethan as though willing him to give her a different answer. Beside her, Anubis curled protectively around her leg, his silver tail brushing over her foot like a quiet tether to reality.
But she couldn't move.
Couldn't speak.
She just stood there... listening... waiting.
While the doctors spoke in hushed voices and began their preparations, far beneath the surface—beyond the walls of scanners and surgical chambers—another world stirred.
Touya's mindscape.
It was quiet at first... hauntingly still. A space cast in soft midnight hues, shaped like the bedroom he had as a child—untouched by time, untouched by fire. Blackened walls with faint scorch marks hugged the space, but everything else was intact: the futon with its electric blue covers, the bookshelves stacked with horror manga and sketchbooks, the guitar propped quietly in the corner.
But the silence wasn't peace—it was suffocating tension.
In the dimly lit chamber of Touya's mindscape, the haunting guitar riff of Black Sabbath's "Paranoid" echoed softly, playing from a dusty speaker nestled in the corner. Shadows flickered across the polished floor, the tea table in the center reflecting the glow of ethereal green light pouring in through the translucent paper doors.
Seated at the low table was a young man who could've been Touya Todoroki if time had been kind—if fire and fate had not torn him apart. Jareth. Tall, striking, and unburned. Dressed in a fitted black shirt and slim dark pants, he leaned forward on his elbows, fingers laced, his expression carved in frustration. A single lock of silver-white hair dangled over his brow.
Beside him perched a magnificent creature—Phi, the blue phoenix. His cerulean feathers shimmered faintly in the dark, puffed in irritation as he mirrored his master's mood. The tips of his wings trembled with stifled energy.
"I know, my dear old friend," Jareth muttered, voice edged in bitter sarcasm. "They're a bunch of idiots. That band of brilliant doctors out there and not one of them has figured it out."
A faint glow flickered across the sliding door as it activated. Emerald green light bathed the threshold, signaling someone's arrival.
The door opened with a soft shhhhkk, and Regina stepped inside—the elegantly, even wearing comfort clothing of green leggings and dark grey band shirt. Oh Regina is showing her comfort side beside being a queen. Her presence quieted the storm. As always.
Jareth glanced up, and despite his scowl, a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Welcome, my love. You're just in time to watch my reincarnation die because no one can figure out that the phoenix is trying to help him."
Regina exhaled a patient sigh, her expression serene yet solemn as she slid. Reaching out, she gently stroked Phi's ruffled feathers, and the phoenix leaned into her touch, his anxious trills softening.
"Don't be upset," she said quietly, her voice like velvet in the gloom. "It's not their fault. They can't see what they've never known. not there fault their stupid.."
Jareth scoffed and flopped back onto his hands with a groan. "You should bring Jess here, Regina. Just bring her. She'd understand! I can't reach Touya, you know that. I never really could. You've spoken to her before—connected with her through dreams, through Soulekinesis. Can't you bring her here now? Just once?"
He gestured helplessly to Phi. The phoenix ruffled again, letting out a low, distressed cry.
"Look at him!" Jareth growled. "He's trying so hard to restart the rebirth cycle—he's doing everything right—and none of them can see it! He's going to burn out trying to save Touya without the body being ready!"
Regina watched him quietly for a long moment, her fingers still combing gently through Phi's shimmering plumage. Then, with a calm breath, she murmured, "That's why I came here, my love."
Jareth groaned dramatically, tossing his head back as he leaned further into the floor. "Stop being cute!" he barked, though his voice cracked with more fondness than fury.
Regina's laughter rippled through the room like wind chimes. "Who knew," she teased, eyes gleaming, "even our reincarnations act just like us."
Jareth flushed, a rare vulnerability rising in his cheeks. He scowled, dragging a hand through his wild hair. "Shush, you..."
Then he straightened up, that sharp glint returning to his turquoise eyes. He motioned at her with a flick of his fingers. "Go on. Switch with Jess. Tell those idiots what they clearly can't see—that they need to stop interfering and let Touya burn. Let the phoenix do what it was born to do."
He looked to Phi, who chirped softly, his feathers glowing brighter for a moment, as if encouraged. "Before it's too late," Jareth finished, voice low and hard.
Regina rose with quiet grace, her violet eyes softening with an ancient weight, as though she had already seen the path ahead. She looked back at Jareth and Phi, her expression composed but solemn, as though steeling herself for a divine task. Her long, ethereal hair shimmered faintly as starlight caught in silk.
"I will bring her," she murmured, her voice like moonlight over water—gentle, but layered with command. "Expect her sudden arrival. She will come disoriented... but ready." She met Jareth's eyes one final time, something unsaid passing between them.
Jareth gave a lopsided grin, though it didn't reach the heaviness in his gaze. "Don't take too long," he said softly, his fingers brushing over Phi's feathery head. "We both know the Phi won't wait forever."
The sliding door at the far end of the mindscape flickered to life. A brilliant green glyph of rebirth glowed from the seams, humming with ancient power. As it opened, Regina stepped forward and passed through—her entire form dissolving into ribbons of light, as though the fabric of existence itself welcomed her return.
Phi gave an eager trill, wings fluttering in anticipation. Sparks shimmered from his plumage and scattered across the polished wood floor like falling stardust. He bounced lightly in place, his entire body alert, quivering with restrained energy.
Jareth leaned back against the floor table, one leg outstretched, the other bent. He tilted his head and chuckled under his breath. "It's been too long, hasn't it?" he said to Phi, voice tinged with a bittersweet edge. "You didn't get your chance the first time. All For One's interference... you had to stand down."
Phi ruffled in frustration—a quiet, warbling noise that sounded like firestorm and heartbreak.
And then the door flared green again—only this time, someone stumbled through.
Jess.
She nearly tripped over the frame, catching herself against the paper-thin wall. Her breath hitched as her wide, disbelieving eyes scanned the unfamiliar room. "Wait... where am I—?"
Her voice cut off when she spotted him.
The man before her looked exactly like Touya—if Touya had never burned. His face, though slightly older and far more composed, was unmistakable. Smooth skin. Stark white hair tousled to perfection. Piercing eyes that carried the weight of a soul far older than he looked. He was dressed simply—black shirt, slim black pants—but his presence filled the room like thunderclouds before a storm.
"T-Touya...?" Jess whispered.
The man smiled with a roguish twist. "Close," he said. "I'm Jareth Revana. Touya is my reincarnation... and you, Princess, are currently being borrowed."
Jess took a step back, her hands rising instinctively. "Borrowed? What do you mean borrowed? Where's my body?!"
"Regina is using it at the moment. She needed to deliver a message. One I haven't been able to." His gaze darkened. "They're about to interfere with the Phoenix. Again. And if they do... he'll die for real this time. You have to let him burn Jess."
"No!" Jess shouted. "They're trying to save him!"
A sharp cry split the air.
Phi launched into the air and flared his wings wide—radiant blue feathers exploding with furious light. He landed with a shuddering stomp between them, his eyes glowing with cosmic fire as he let out a war cry that shook the wooden beams of the mindscape.
Jess gasped, stepping back. "Wh-What—?! Is that—?!"
"A real phoenix," Jareth said reverently. "Phi is the heart of our quirk. He embodies the flame of rebirth. The phoenix must burn to be reborn. You've seen what's happening to Touya. His body is rejecting interference. They need to let him burn."
Jess's mouth parted as she turned to Phi again. The ancient bird dipped his head solemnly, as if agreeing with every word.
She whispered, "Rebirth..."
Outside the mindscape.
A shockwave of energy surged down the pristine halls of the Celtican Embassy's medical wing. The lights above flickered—not with failure, but reverence. The very air seemed to pulse with power, like the heartbeat of a divine force awakening.
Jess stood at the center of it.
No longer alone.
Her posture was rigid, spine straight as a blade. Violet and indigo energy rippled around her like the rings of a dying star, warping reality with every pulse. Her aura had changed—no longer human. Her hair shimmered like crimson nebulae, floating as if underwater. Her eyes, once soft and searching, now glowed with regal emerald flame—fixed, unwavering, otherworldly.
Anubis backed away with a low mewl, ears pinned flat as he hid behind Yuki's leg.
Frank stepped forward, his voice quiet but shaken. "Regina..."
The doctors froze. The Todoroki family stared. And even Dawn felt the ripple in her bones.
Then, in a voice that carried like prophecy, like legend—Regina spoke through Jess.
"Touya Todoroki must burn," she said, every syllable echoing with sacred finality. "The phoenix within him must awaken and complete the rebirth... or you will lose him forever."
Chapter 16
Notes:
This is a mindscape Chapter. Everything in this that happens int his chapter is happening Touya's mindscape.
Chapter Text
A sudden shockwave surged through the polished halls of the Celtican Embassy's medical wing, powerful enough to rattle the air itself. The overhead lights flickered—not with error, but as though they were reacting to a higher power, something ancient and divine stirring into motion. Even the walls seemed to hum in response, vibrating in perfect harmony with the unnatural energy now pouring into the room.
Jess stood at the heart of it all.
But she was no longer alone.
Her body remained still, her posture unnaturally poised shoulders squared, back straight, like the embodiment of royal authority returned to the mortal plane. Cosmic waves of violet, indigo, and emerald danced around her like solar flares spiraling off a star. The air distorted with each pulse of energy, warping the very fabric of space around her in rippling arcs of power. Her once-human aura had transformed into something celestial. Her hair floated in the air as if suspended in water, shimmering in hues of crimson and stardust. Her eyes, glowing emerald green and laced with divine light, were no longer Jess's; they were Regina's.
Across the room, Anubis let out a low, unsettled meow. His ears flattened against his skull, his sleek silver form retreating behind Yuki's leg as he sensed the shift—this presence was not Jess. It was older, stronger, untouchable.
Frank moved forward slowly, not daring to startle her. His voice, though steady, trembled with reverence. "Regina..."
The medical staff and Touya's family stood frozen in place. Not one dared speak. Not even Dawn moved—her usually unshakable expression taut with the gravity of what she felt resonating in the air.
Then, in a voice that rang with layered echoes—feminine, commanding, and steeped in ancient magic—Regina spoke through Jess.
"Touya Todoroki must burn," she said, each word reverberating like a divine decree etched into time itself. "The phoenix within him must awaken and complete the rebirth... or you will lose him forever."
Regina's glowing eyes shifted to Frank. His breath caught in his throat, chest rising with awe and disbelief. Slowly, reverently, he dropped to one knee before her.
"My queen..." he whispered, voice trembling.
A serene smile curved Regina's lips as she stepped forward, her presence radiant, commanding. She reached out with a hand—her nails short, oval, and sharply refined—and gently cupped Frank's cheek, lifting his face with a tenderness that belied the raw power radiating from her.
"Frank, my angelic knight," she said softly, her voice like wind through the leaves of ancient trees. "You, above all, should know what I mean by phoenix."
Frank nodded slowly, reverently. "Yes, my queen... I understand. I take it the boy is—"
Regina tilted her head, her emerald eyes glowing brighter. "If Touya hadn't been so scarred, so stapled together, you would have seen it more clearly. He is the spitting image of Jareth—the same pale, milky skin... the same white hair, though once tinted by dye... and those turquoise-blue eyes that used to glow like mana when he summoned those magnificent blue flames."
She paused, letting the weight of her words settle into the bones of the room.
"The attitude... the fire... the voice, perhaps a bit raspier than Jareth's, but it's there. Don't tell me you didn't notice? You, who I raised up as a child and named my first Grand Knight. You, who was trained by Jareth himself. You, who witnessed me by his side through five lifetimes of rebirth and ash."
She lowered her hand, but her gaze remained fixed with unwavering grace. "Touya Todoroki is the reincarnation of Jareth Ravena. Just as the Phoenix Quirk has been passed on through his soul, so too has his essence carried forward—much like with myself and Jess. Reincarnation is exceedingly rare... even rarer when it involves quirks. But it does happen. If Touya had been born in Celtica, both my family and I would have sensed the Phoenix's presence within him long before now."
The silence finally broke—soft and trembling.
Rei was the first to speak, her voice weak yet filled with fragile clarity. "So... my son..." she hesitated, her throat tightening, "Touya... is the reincarnation of this Jareth?"
Regina turned her regal gaze to Rei and softened, offering a gentle smile that held centuries of understanding. "Yes, Miss Rei. He is."
Enji scoffed, his brow furrowing with skepticism. "If that's true," he muttered, "then why didn't this so-called phoenix quirk bring him back when he... when he set himself on fire? He should have been reborn then, right? Forgive me, but you'll have to excuse me if I don't put blind faith in this."
Regina's emerald eyes sharpened like blades.
Before she could speak, Frank stepped forward, his posture firm with authority and reverence. "Enji Todoroki," he said in a low, warning voice, "you will watch your tongue when speaking to Queen Regina."
Dawn took a slow, steady breath and stepped closer. "Regina, please... help us understand," she said with measured calm. "Tell us what we're missing."
Regina closed her eyes for a moment, drawing in a long breath as if calling upon the weight of countless lifetimes. When she opened them again, they shimmered with ancient knowledge.
"As far as I understand, Touya endured great suffering in his youth," she began quietly. "Jareth has told me that even in this life, as his reincarnation, Touya has faced abuse. That trauma doesn't vanish with rebirth—it lingers, it scars. And yes," she continued, her gaze sweeping across them, "Jareth and I still speak through the mindscape. Every soul possesses one. Jareth has his own. I have mine. Even Izuku has his... shared with the former wielders of his borrowed quirk."
Shouto's eyes widened in shock, his voice cracking as it left his throat. "Wait—how do you know that?" he asked, stunned. "It took Izuku forever just to tell me about that. And we're... we're dating, so how—?"
Regina's lips curled in a small, knowing smile, the warmth of her chuckle laced with timeless familiarity. "I knew the first user, Shouto dear," she replied gently. "But that's a tale for another time. Right now, we are not here to speak of Izuku. This is about Touya. And Izuku's quirk remains classified for good reason."
Her expression turned solemn once more as she looked to the others gathered. "Jess is currently within Touya's mindscape—interacting with Jareth. While she's in there, I will explain to you why the phoenix did not awaken and revive him the first time he died."
Within the dim serenity of Touya's mindscape, the traditional layout of his childhood room remained still—quiet and untouched by time. Tatami mats lined the floor, and the scent of aged wood lingered faintly in the air. The low tea table between them held a single soda can, softly hissing as Jess brought it to her lips.
She blinked at it, brows furrowed in mild confusion. "How... am I even drinking this in a mindscape?"
Jareth, reclining back with one leg crossed over the other, held his own can of cherry cola and chuckled. "Because the rules here bend around your soul. The subconscious is a funny thing—whatever feels real enough can be real here."
Phi, the blue phoenix, lay nestled on a black velvet pillow nearby, his vibrant feathers pulsing gently with bioluminescent hues. The avian's chest rose and fell in a rhythmic pattern, lost in slumber. Jess's eyes drifted to him.
"He's... stunning," she whispered, watching the way the soft light from his feathers reflected off the dark walls. "Like something out of a fairytale..."
Jareth smiled—fond, knowing. "Mhmm. He's the real deal. A true mythical creature born into this world long ago—alive, breathing, sentient. He wasn't just some quirk-made manifestation, not at first. Phi was the last living phoenix in the physical world. But when he died... his rebirth didn't follow the path it should've."
He sipped from his can, gaze briefly flicking to the sleeping bird before returning to her. "After 5,000 life cycles, he ended up reborn into a human soul... through a power called a quirk."
Jess's eyes widened. "A quirk?" she repeated, almost in disbelief. "So... he's not just part of you. He is you."
Jareth gave a thoughtful nod. "More like we are halves of the same flame. He is the power, I was the vessel. And now, Touya is both."
He set his can down with a soft click and tapped the cushion next to him, leaning on one arm lazily.
"Come here. No need to be shy, Jess."
Jess's face turned a bright shade of red. "I... I don't think Regina would like it..."
Jareth laughed—low, amused. The sound stirred Phi awake. The blue phoenix chirped in protest at being disturbed but promptly buried his head beneath a wing and went back to sleep.
Jareth chuckled again, eyes twinkling as he looked at her. "Regina wouldn't care. Jess, my dear, you are her. She is you. Same with me and Touya—he is me, and I'm him. We are the same. Two souls, intertwined. Completely identical to our reincarnations."
He tilted his head and gave her a teasing smirk. "So come on. Come a little closer."
Jess swallowed hard. Oh god... that smirk. So identical.
After a long pause—and a visible internal struggle—she scooted a little closer.
Meanwhile, beyond the central chamber of the mindscape...
The outer edges of Touya's mindscape were swallowed in dense, colorless fog, thick and oppressive like a curtain drawn tight across the world. A faint chill hung in the air, weightless but unsettling.
Touya stood alone on a desolate road, its blacktop barely visible beneath the mist. His eyes were closed at first, his body twitching slightly, until he stirred—eyes fluttering open. A sharp breath escaped his lips.
"What the hell...?"
The entire area looked like something straight out of Silent Hill—mist-shrouded trees barely outlined on one side, a ghostly sign barely visible in the distance. He looked down at himself: shirtless, dressed only in loose white hospital pants. His breath hitched.
"This is some weird Silent Hill shit..."
Turning slowly in place, he realized he was standing dead center on a long, foggy road with no clear beginning or end. No noise. No movement.
"Jess?" he called out, his voice echoing into the void. "JESS!?"
Silence answered him.
He clenched his fists, heart pounding, trying to piece together what he last remembered. There had been... burning. Not like his usual flames—no, this time it had spiraled out of control. Like a wildfire erupting from within. The memory of his quirk raging against him flooded his mind—and the pain. The overwhelming, suffocating pain.
His expression shifted to horror as he looked down at his left arm. It was there. Whole. Real.
But he remembered losing it.
His breath grew shallow, and he gripped the limb tightly. "What is going on...?"
Just then, a low, haunting cry echoed through the fog. It wasn't human. It wasn't natural. It was something... older. A creature's call—eerie, melodic, powerful.
He snapped his head up.
A soft blue light shimmered in the distance, barely visible through the fog like a star behind a curtain.
"What the..."
The call rang out again—closer this time.
And Touya began to move, cautious but drawn, each step echoing in the silence as he followed the mysterious blue glow deeper into the mist.
Touya trudged forward, each bare footstep slapping dully against the damp, uneven asphalt. The fog wrapped around him like gauze, thick and clammy, swallowing everything in a sightless white void. It was like standing inside a dream that had lost its anchor—quiet, directionless, and wrong.
His hospital gown pants clung to his legs, the chill biting into his exposed skin. He folded his arms tightly across his bare chest, jaw tense, trying not to let the unfamiliar quiet crawl too far under his skin.
"This is bullshit," he muttered to himself. The sound of his own voice was a strange comfort—though it vanished almost instantly into the fog.
No reply. No echo. Just the suffocating stillness.
Then he saw it again.
A light.
Not bright, not blinding—just a soft, pulsing blue, floating far ahead of him in the haze. A perfect orb, suspended in air, flickering faintly like the last ember in a dying fire. It held no shape, no shadow, no source—only that haunting glow.
Touya narrowed his eyes, gaze locking on it. "What the hell is that...?"
The orb remained motionless at first, hovering silently like it had been waiting. Then, as if responding to his voice, it drifted forward. Slow. Measured. Tempting.
He hesitated.
It didn't feel threatening. In fact, there was something oddly familiar about it. Not like déjà vu—deeper. Something woven into instinct, buried beneath memory.
"Jess?" he called again, louder this time. "Oi! If this is you screwing with my head, I swear—"
Silence. No answer. No footsteps. Just the light.
His left hand curled subconsciously over his right arm—the one he remembered losing. The memory was too vivid: flames, pain, bone. But when he glanced down, the limb was whole. No burns. No missing flesh. Only the tremor that ran through it like a warning.
"This has to be a dream..." he whispered. But even his voice lacked conviction.
The orb pulsed once—soft and steady—and began to drift forward again, keeping its distance but never disappearing completely. Always visible. Always just far enough away.
Without realizing it, Touya started to follow.
Every step felt heavier, the damp road echoing his own unease. But that blue light drew him onward—wordless and insistent. A will without words. A direction in the formless void.
He wasn't sure how long he'd been walking. The fog never lifted. The silence never broke.
Only the light remained.
Guiding him deeper.
Back within the warm glow of the mindscape's tea room, soft ambient music hummed low from a hidden source. The table between them still held the half-drunk cans of soda, condensation rolling lazily down the sides. The lighting was gentle, almost candle-like—casting a golden warmth across the lacquered floor and plush seating cushions. Despite the surreal nature of where they were, it felt oddly grounded. Peaceful. Real.
Neither Jess nor Jareth had noticed that Phi had quietly slipped from the slightly cracked door and was no longer in the room.
They were far too wrapped up in their conversation.
Jess giggled, her fingers loosely curled around her soda can as she leaned forward slightly. "So, you and Touya both like the same stuff? That's... rare. Really rare."
Jareth grinned in return, his expression softening. "Very much so. The similarities aren't just coincidence. We're the same soul, just worn a little differently over time. And you and Regina? Absolutely the same. Gods, she was an amazing cook."
Jess's eyes sparkled with amusement, her mouth curling into a teasing smile. "Oh? Is that why you fell for her? Her cooking?"
"Mmhmm," Jareth chuckled, tapping his chin theatrically as though summoning the memory from a thousand years ago. "It might've been her brilliance, her fire, her stubbornness... but it was definitely sealed with her food."
Jess gasped in mock scandal, placing a hand over her chest. "A true romantic, I see! So then—what was your favorite dish from her?"
His eyes lit up with fond nostalgia. "Easy. The famous Mikcloud Mushroom Tavern-Style Pot Roast. That one would bring even the most hardened knight to his knees. And... her homemade pickles."
Jess's face lit up, genuine surprise and excitement bursting across her expression. "No way! Regina made her own pickles?"
"She did. Batches of them. Spiced, sweet, garlic brine—you name it," Jareth replied with a proud nod. "But her favroite and my favorite was the classic dill. I used to sneak into the kitchen and steal jars when she wasn't looking. Paid the price, though. She once made me eat a whole spicy batch in revenge."
Jess laughed freely at that, the sound light and heartfelt. "That is so something I'd do. I make my own pickles too. I started doing it as a hobby... but it stuck."
Jareth leaned back on one hand, grinning. "Then that's from her memory. No doubt about it. I bet if you handed one to Touya, he'd devour it."
Jess smiled softly, the moment warming her chest. "He probably would... especially if I didn't tell him what it was first."
"Mmm," Jareth hummed, stretching just slightly, a teasing smirk returning to his lips. "I could go for one right now, to be honest."
Jess giggled again, their laughter overlapping briefly in the quiet room. It was strange, how natural it felt—how easy. For all the weight of reincarnation, quirk-driven fates, and trauma outside this mindscape, here... things were simple.
Just a girl and a boy sharing stories over soda and memories that spanned lifetimes.
Touya had been walking for what felt like an eternity—barefoot, shirtless, the chill of the fog seeping into his bones. Irritation simmered just beneath the surface of his skin, twisted tight with a thread of unease. The silence of the fog wasn't empty—it was pressing, thick, like something alive that coiled around his limbs and clung to every breath.
A glowing blue orb hovered ahead of him. It wasn't a lightbulb, nor a flame. It pulsed like a heartbeat in the fog—steady, deliberate, always keeping just enough distance to be unreachable. He couldn't make out what it truly was. No shape, no edges, just a presence—otherworldly, silent, yet insistently guiding.
He had tried to turn back more than once.
Each time, the wall of fog responded like a living thing—bouncing him back with unnatural force, as if punishing him for defiance. His bare feet scraped against the cold road, his muscles aching from effort and strain. The fog refused to let him go.
"This is some weird Silent Hill shit..." he muttered under his breath, voice nearly swallowed by the haze.
Still, he kept walking.
The road beneath him never changed. Black asphalt, silent. No cracks, no lines—just endless grey surrounded by suffocating white. The only constants were the quiet tap of his footsteps and the soft, haunting birdlike cry echoing from somewhere within the fog. A cry that didn't belong to any creature he recognized, yet tugged at something instinctual in him.
Then something shifted.
Lights.
Distant, soft glows—tiny golden rectangles beginning to form ahead, like lanterns behind windows. At first, he thought his eyes were playing tricks on him. But as he walked faster—drawn toward them—he felt the tightness in his chest return.
The shape of a building began to emerge. No, not just any building. He skidded to a halt, heart slamming in his chest like a war drum.
The front gate of the Todoroki estate loomed in front of him.
His breath caught. The fog swirled around his ankles, curling like smoke. Touya stared at the gate as a memory slammed into him—unbidden, unforgiving.
He was sixteen.
Waking up in a hospital he didn't recognize—cold, white, sterile. He had been in a coma, they told him. But they hadn't explained why. The walls had felt like a cage, the voices of the staff like static. Every instinct inside him screamed that he didn't belong there. That if he stayed, he would disappear.
So he had run.
The house he hadn't called home in years. And now here it stood again, like a ghost in his mindscape, daring him to remember.
Panic gripped him by the throat.
"No..." he whispered, stumbling back a step. "No, don't make me go in there..."
He turned on his heel, desperate to flee—but the wall of fog rose up again, an immovable barrier. It struck him hard, forcing him to stumble.
He gasped, chest heaving.
And then he heard it—that same call. The mythical birdlike cry that had been following him since the beginning.
Slowly, he looked back.
There, perched atop the gate, was a shape. A bird-like silhouette cloaked in blue light, pulsing faintly through the fog. It was too far to see clearly, but its presence was undeniable. Unsettling... yet familiar.
The creature tilted its head toward the gate.
Click.
The gates creaked open on their own, inching inward with unnatural precision.
The bird chirped—soft, almost beckoning—and then it flew. Its glowing shape vanished into the sky above the estate, leaving only silence in its wake.
Touya stood frozen.
Alone, barefoot, and breathing like he'd just outrun death.
His gaze lingered on the path beyond the gate.
"...Why the hell is this place here... what the hell is going?" he whispered to no one.
The silence offered no answer. But his feet, traitorous and unsure, began to move. Forward. Toward the house that haunted every part of his past.
Back in the quiet heart of the mindscape, the air was still and bathed in a faint, dreamy glow. The soft shimmer of stardust-like energy curled around the space, casting a serene light over the two forms on the cushions.
Jess was nestled close to Jareth now—his arms comfortably wrapped around her as if it had always been this natural. His body was warm, solid, yet gentle, and he nuzzled into her like a content cat. "You are so soft," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper and rich with affectionate amusement.
Jess's face lit up with a crimson blush that reached the tips of her ears. She didn't pull away.
There was something about his touch—familiar in a way that bypassed reason. It didn't feel foreign or wrong. It didn't make her tense. No, it felt like Touya's arms. The way his fingers settled against her side, the brush of his breath near her collarbone... it was identical. Jareth may have lived centuries ago, but his soul—the fire that made him him—was unmistakably shared with Touya.
"Just like Regina," Jareth mused with a lazy grin, shifting just slightly so he could rest his chin on her shoulder. "So soft." Then he inhaled slowly, deliberately, like he was letting the moment imprint on his senses. "Mmm... Lavender and lemon."
Jess's cheeks deepened in color. Her lips parted slightly as she took in his warmth. The scent of him—warm and resinous—seeped into her senses like velvet smoke. Amber. It filled her head like a comforting haze, the kind of scent that lingered on pillows and made hearts ache when it faded.
It hit her then—Febreze Amber. That was the closest she could compare it to. That scent had always reminded her of Touya. And now, with Jareth so close, it made sense. They smelled exactly the same.
Jess hummed softly, the sound involuntary and dreamy. "Mmmmhmm..."
Jareth chuckled against her, the vibration rolling through her like a calming current. "You and Regina both hum when you're content, apparently."
She smiled, her blush still clinging to her cheeks, but she didn't pull away. Instead, she let herself melt a little more into the embrace—into him.
The past and present weren't so far apart in this place.
They were touching. Breathing. Living again.
And Jess could feel that connection down to her very soul.
Touya stopped just shy of the estate's looming double doors, the once-familiar threshold now feeling like the edge of another world. The thick fog clung to the old stone steps like smoke from a dream, making even the house—so painfully etched into memory—feel distant and surreal. His bare feet were cold against the damp pavement, the chill seeping through his bones as if trying to root him in place.
Above him, the soft clink of feathers brushing metal drew his attention. The glowing blue bird—his unrelenting guide—had landed gracefully atop the wrought-iron lamp that framed the entryway. Its shape was elegant, mythical, feathers glowing with an ethereal blue light that pulsed in time with his heartbeat. The creature tilted its head and chirped softly at him, the sound melodic, almost beckoning.
Touya frowned, his gaze narrowing at the avian figure. Something about it tugged at a half-forgotten memory—an image glimpsed once in an old book tucked away on a forgotten shelf in maybe the town's library or the school's library. A creature in a drawing, wings outstretched in vibrant red and gold flame. But this bird wasn't red—it shimmered in moonlit blue, like fire frozen into light.
"Wait a minute..." he murmured, his voice rough in the silence, like a match being struck. "No way... you can't be real."
He took a step closer, squinting at the bird's radiant form, the glow casting soft reflections over the fog. "I've seen drawings of you... not in blue, but in red—old storybooks, fairytales. Mythical creatures. You're not supposed to exist."
The bird blinked slowly, its tail feathers fluttering like flame in slow motion.
"You're a phoenix... aren't you?" he asked aloud, barely above a whisper.
The bird answered—not with words, but with a solemn nod of its head. A graceful, almost regal motion. Not a trained mimicry of human gestures, but a conscious acknowledgment.
Touya's breath caught. The weight of what he was seeing, what he was speaking to, pressed down on his chest like gravity had tripled.
"...What the hell is going on?" he muttered, more to himself now. And yet, for the first time since waking in this strange, shifting place... he no longer felt completely alone.
Touya hesitated at the front door, the wood cool beneath his fingertips as he pushed it open. The hinges groaned softly, like the house itself exhaled his name. A dim, muted glow spilled in from the fog behind him, barely lighting the genkan beyond. The interior was just as he remembered it—dark, quiet, and steeped in a heavy, unspoken stillness. That scent, too... it hadn't changed. A blend of old cedar, faint ash, and the detergent his mother always used on the floors. It struck him like a punch to the chest.
He stepped inside slowly, barefoot against the polished entryway stone, before crossing onto the tatami. The shift beneath his feet—wood to woven reed—was like a tripwire of memory. He stood still for a moment, allowing the atmosphere to settle over him like dust. Every breath he took pulled more of the past into the present.
Shivering slightly, he moved forward and slid open the first interior door.
The hallway stretched before him in quiet reverence, lit only by the faint ambient glow from the fog behind. To his right, he saw the familiar line of shoji doors—the main dining room, the family room, the kitchen beyond that. Further still, the laundry room he used to hate folding towels in. All unchanged. Frozen in time.
He turned his head to the left.
There... Fuyumi's room, still marked with a faint sticker of flowers she'd put up as a teenager. Natsuo's door, perpetually scratched near the bottom from a childhood of kicking it shut in frustration. Their parents' room—he swallowed hard—and Shouto's, which had always been set apart in a quieter part of the house. Too far away from his siblings. From him.
And then...
Touya's eyes dropped to the floor. His own room had once sat right near the entryway—almost like he'd never been fully let inside. Not quite a member of the home. Not really. There had even been a small, tucked-away bathroom with a broken lock he'd claimed for himself when he was twelve. Called it his "sanctuary," when things got too loud.
The sound of something soft brushing the tatami drew his attention back.
A gentle chirp.
Phi.
The glowing blue bird had flown ahead and now landed with grace a few feet away, his feathers stirring faint dust motes into the air as he looked back over his shoulder with an almost expectant tilt of his head. Then he hopped once... twice... and took a short glide forward, landing again just down the corridor.
Touya raised an eyebrow, already feeling a headache come on. "You want me to follow you... through this damn house of horrors?"
Phi didn't answer, of course. Just turned slightly again, tail feathers flicking before hopping forward like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Touya groaned, dragging a hand through his white hair. "Unbelievable."
But he followed.
Because deep down, he already knew—this house wasn't just waiting for him.
It was calling him back.
Touya followed Phi through the eerie, memory-laced halls of the Todoroki estate. The house was exactly how he remembered it—dimly lit, with a stillness that clung to the walls like dust. The faint scent in the air hadn't changed either; it hit him the moment he stepped onto the tatami flooring, and with it came a sudden wave of memories so sharp they nearly brought him to his knees.
A soft chirp made him glance up. Phi had flown ahead, now perched low to the ground, wings fluttering gently as he hopped toward a familiar door. Touya's breath hitched. He knew that door. Of course he did. It was his.
His feet carried him forward, slow and cautious. As he neared, his eyes locked on the small carvings along the frame—rough little hearts with names etched into them. He reached out, fingers brushing over the familiar grooves. His name. Fuyumi's. Natsuo's. Shoto's. Scratched in by a trembling hand when he was thirteen—before everything fell apart.
Phi tilted his head and cooed quietly beside him, drawing his attention. Then the bird hopped forward again, slipping into the room through a small crack in the door.
And suddenly, Touya froze.
Voices.
Muffled, but unmistakable.
"Wow, you're actually the same size as her," came a man's voice—low and warm. But something about it made Touya stiffen. It sounded like him. Too much like him.
A soft gasp followed. Jess's voice.
"Hey..! Wait—really? We have the same build?"
"Of course you two do!" the man teased. "I bet you both have the same cute birthmark on the butt too."
Touya blinked in confusion, brows furrowed. That was Jess's voice—unmistakably. But who the hell was flirting with her?
"I... I think we do... I was told I have a birthmark on my... butt..." Jess admitted shyly.
Then came another voice, teasing and bold: "Can I see?"
Touya's expression darkened instantly.
Who the fuck was hitting on his girlfriend—in his own damn room?!
His temper snapped. He stormed forward, sliding the door open with a force that rattled the frame.
"Don't you touch her!"
Jess flinched in surprise, looked up.
There, still nestled beside her, was the source of the voice. A man who looked just like him—identical, unburned, and smug.
Their eyes met.
Touya's heart dropped, his breath catching in his throat.
The man had his face.
"What the fuck...?"
Phi fluttered in with a hop, landing lightly on the low table beside Jareth. The glowing blue bird gave a melodic chirp, tilting his head toward him with obvious intent.
Jareth blinked, then smirked knowingly. "Ahh, I see," he said, brushing a hand through his tousled silver-white hair. "You sensed him enter the mindscape, didn't you? So you snuck out to guide him here."
Phi gave another soft, insistent chirp in response, fluffing his feathers with pride.
At the doorway, Touya stood frozen, shoulders tense and jaw slack, struggling to process what he was seeing. His eyes darted from the serene phoenix to the man with his exact face, and then to Jess—who was still seated beside this other version of him.
"What... the hell..." he muttered, voice hoarse with disbelief.
Jess quickly wiggled free from Jareth's arms, cheeks flushed but eyes wide with joy. Jareth gave a dramatic sigh and slumped back in exaggerated disappointment. "And I was enjoying the snuggle," he pouted, hand flopping over his chest.
But Jess didn't hear him. Her focus was locked on the real one—her Touya.
"Touya!" she cried, and without a second thought, launched forward.
He barely had time to brace before she collided with him, arms wrapping tightly around his bare torso as she buried her face against his shoulder. The force of the hug nearly knocked the breath out of him—but the warmth of it, the grounding realness of her touch, nearly brought him to his knees.
Touya's arms instinctively tightened around Jess, shaky but solid, clinging to her like she was the only real thing in this surreal world. His heart pounded, echoing through his chest with such force it nearly drowned out the confusion in his head.
But even as Jess held onto him, he lifted his gaze—narrowing his eyes at the man who looked too much like him. A perfect reflection. Unscarred. Untouched by flame and time.
His voice came out low and accusing. "Who are you? Why do you look like me—like the version of me that never got burned...?"
The man didn't flinch. Instead, he smirked, leaning back with a familiar confidence that only made Touya bristle further.
"I'm you," he said, his tone smooth and maddeningly calm. "And you are me. My name is Jareth Ravena. I was the Third Grand Knight of Celtica, the sworn lover and husband of Regina Mikcloud—the first Queen of our line. And I'm the original wielder of the Phoenix."
At the sound of his name, Phi let out a cheerful chirp from the table, his brilliant blue feathers ruffling with excitement.
Jareth chuckled lightly, giving the bird a fond glance before turning his piercing turquoise gaze back on Touya. "Much like Jess is the reincarnation of Regina... you, Touya Todoroki, are my reincarnation. And the second vessel for the Phoenix."
Jareth gestured lazily toward Phi, who ruffled his feathers with a soft chirp. "This mythical little fireball? His name is Phi." he said with a grin. "He's been waiting a long time for you, Touya. Waiting to complete your rebirth. Regina is currently in control of Jess's body, explaining everything to the others. Mhm... and I know it's here somewhere..."
He rose to his feet and strode over to the small closet, humming as he pulled the sliding door open.
Touya's brow furrowed, irritation flaring. "Oi—stop going through my stuff!"
Jareth just laughed. "What's yours is mine. This room? It's your personal mindscape, Touya. Your safe haven. Your sanctuary. Even when you were Dabi, you kept it just like this."
He rifled through the closet for a moment before letting out a triumphant, "Ah-ha!" and pulled out a familiar device.
Touya's eyes went wide. "That's my 14-inch portable TV...!"
"Exactly!" Jareth beamed, holding it like a prized artifact. "You used to watch all your anime on this thing." He turned to Jess, who was still clinging to Touya's side. "Jess, darling—he's not going anywhere, love. You can let him breathe now. Think of the staples."
Jess blinked and quickly stepped back, flushing. "Oh! Sorry, hun."
Touya chuckled, reaching up to gently cup her cheek. "Stop being so goddamn cute..."
Her blush deepened. Jareth smirked knowingly. "It really should be illegal to be that adorable."
Jess pouted, glancing between them. "Jareth... oh my god, you two do act exactly the same!"
Jareth burst into laughter, setting up the portable TV on the low table. "Come, sit. Snuggle in and watch. I've linked the antenna to Jess's current perspective—so we can see what's happening outside, from her view."
Jess tilted her head, intrigued, and moved closer. "You can do that? You used this to watch... Touya's?"
Touya's expression dimmed slightly, his frown returning.
Jareth's voice softened as he settled down beside them. "Sometimes. Not always. I didn't turn it on during the worst of it... not when the abuse started... or during those three years you were in that coma. Me and Phi—we stayed hidden. We had to lock this part of the mindscape. All For One was always watching."
A silence fell between them, heavy with shared pain and quiet understanding.
Then Phi let out another soft, contented chirp—like a lullaby smoothed by time and flame—before curling into the velvet pillow beside the table. His glowing feathers dimmed slightly, settling into a tranquil pulse.
Touya sat silently, eyes roaming the room like a ghost retracing its final steps. Something felt off... or maybe too familiar.
Jess tilted her head at him. "What's wrong?"
He blinked, voice distant. "It's just... this room. It looks exactly how I left it. Before Seako Peak. Before everything went to hell. Even the sky outside—it's stuck in that same night." His gaze sharpened, dark brows furrowing. "But the fog... that wasn't here before."
Jareth nodded knowingly, arms folded as he leaned back on his hands. "It hasn't changed since you were thirteen. I've kept it like this. Personally? I always liked the black walls."
A small smile tugged at Touya's lips, but it vanished in an instant, replaced by a bitter snarl. Jess blinked at the sudden change in his expression.
"Yeah," Touya muttered, voice rough with resentment, "until I woke up from that coma and came back. And everything was different. The black walls were painted over like I'd never been here. All my manga, my anime, even my bedding—gone. Like they wanted to erase me. They even took my favorite plushie..."
Jareth raised an eyebrow, then reached under the table with a mischievous grin. "You mean this little guy?"
From beneath the shadows, he pulled out a familiar, gothic plush: a half-skeletal black cat with mismatched button eyes, stitched ribs, and purple ears and paws. Its tiny purple collar still intact, worn but not broken.
Touya froze. His breath caught, eyes wide in disbelief as he reached out with shaking hands. "No way..."
He took it gently, almost reverently. "I haven't seen this in years... It was the only cool plush I won at the fair. Dad absolutely hated it—said it looked demonic. Fuyumi kept trying to steal it even though she hates anything remotely goth. I never figured that out." He huffed a soft laugh. "Mom actually thought it was adorable. Natsuo thought it looked too girly... and it kind of does. But I didn't care."
Jareth watched him with a soft smile, while Jess's eyes lit up like stars, clearly enamored with the plush.
Touya noticed immediately and raised the plush with a crooked smirk. "You wanna hold him?"
Jess, practically vibrating with excitement, nodded eagerly like a child given permission to open a gift early. "Yes!"
She took it into her arms, snuggling it against her cheek with a delighted squeal. "It's so soft!"
Touya chuckled under his breath, watching her with obvious affection. Jareth laughed too, nudging his reincarnation playfully.
"She really is just like Regina."
Jess stuck out her tongue at both of them, clutching the plush like a sacred relic of childhood, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "Let me enjoy my moment, damn it."
Both Touya and Jareth chuckled, their laughter overlapping like a strange echo of one soul in two timelines.
Just then, the soft hum of static filled the air.
The little black TV perched on the low table flickered—once, twice—before the screen bloomed into fuzzy gray and white lines. A low crackle hummed like a distant heartbeat.
Jareth leaned forward, his expression shifting with anticipation. "Finally," he murmured, eyes narrowing. "Regina's letting us see now."
The image on the screen began to sharpen, shadows forming into shapes—blurry outlines of figures and flame, of waiting hearts and sacred decisions.
Chapter 17
Notes:
Here is my own Calender of the start of quirks.
Late 20th Century (c. 1950s–1999)
Era Name: Age of Extremes
• 📌 Quirks first begin to manifest near the end of the 20th century.
• Rapid geopolitical changes, scientific breakthroughs, and extreme ideologies mark this era.
• Quirk-related incidents are rare at first, viewed as anomalies or genetic mutations.
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21st Century (2000–2099)
Era Name: Digital Age / Information Age
• 📌 Quirks become increasingly common and are studied scientifically.
• Societal shifts begin, with governments unsure how to regulate quirk use.
• 📍 Regina and Jareth's Era (Born c. 2010s, age 15 in 2025).
• Political instability rises due to the emergence of powerful individuals.
• Underground institutions and black-market technology develop alongside legitimate hero work.
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22nd Century (2100–2199)
Era Name: Quirk Hero Era
• 📌 Hero education systems are formalized.
• UA and other hero schools are founded.
• Global frameworks for quirk classification, hero licensing, and villain incarceration are established.
• This is the golden age of heroes, when quirk society becomes normalized and structured.
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23rd Century (2200–2299)
Era Name: Modern Quirk Society Era (placeholder – can be renamed)
• 📌 Jess and Touya's Era.
• Jess and Touya are born in the 2200 , the start of 23rd century.
• Current events of your story unfold here.
• The 9th user of One For All, Izuku Midoriya, is active in this century.
• Quirks are deeply embedded into every facet of life, from politics to culture, and tech-quirk hybrids emerge.
• Concerns over quirk evolution, instability, and morality start surfacing again, calling back to older eras.
Chapter Text
Her expression turned solemn once more as she looked to the others gathered.
"Jess is currently within Touya's mindscape—interacting with Jareth. While she's in there, I will explain to you why the phoenix did not awaken and revive him the first time he died."
Regina closed her eyes and let out a soft hum, as if drawing from the echoes of memory. When she reopened them, her gaze was steady—almost ancient in its weight—as it swept across the room.
"Touya waited at Sekoto Peak for his father to meet him... but the man never came," she said softly. "He waited for hours, heartbroken. That disappointment, that anguish, twisted into something volatile. His flames lost control—not because he activated them... but because his emotions did. The resulting wildfire was catastrophic."
She paused, her voice growing gentler. "Touya tried to save himself. He remembered a small creek nearby—one he and his siblings used to sneak off to as children. They'd collect shards of Dumortierite quartz, the vibrant blue stones that only formed in that area."
Natsuo's eyes widened at the memory. "Yeah... those were his favorite... that deep blue quartz..."
Regina gave a faint smile before continuing. "But in that moment, it didn't matter. He didn't know how to control the flames—because Enji had never taught him how to suppress them. Only how to increase the temperature, how to burn brighter, hotter..."
Dawn's eyes narrowed as she turned to Enji. "You never taught him how to lower the temperature of his fire?"
Enji clenched his jaw, biting back his response—but Regina didn't stop.
"His body was scorched by his own fire... flames that surged past 2,000 degrees Celsius. But it's important to know—he was already injured before that. A major injury from when Enji threw him into a wall... simply for being in the same room as Shoto."
Shoto's hands clenched tightly at his sides. "I... I remember that..."
Rei's face was hard—no tears, just simmering fury. A rare look for her. Fuyumi stared down at her lap, guilt tightening her shoulders. She remembered trying to help Touya... but she had also told him to stop disobeying their father.
Natsuo's glare toward Enji was full of restrained rage. He looked ready to explode. The doctors present—Ethan, Julia, Lisa, and Mike—all exchanged grim glances. Frank stood tense and silent, eyes narrowed at the pro hero once hailed as Japan's symbol of flame.
Dr. Murk and Dr. Vi both looked up from their high-tech tablets, exchanging a glance before smirking knowingly. It was Vi who asked first, her voice calm but curious, "What... was the major injury?"
Regina turned toward them, her expression unreadable. "As far as Jareth told me, it caused his spine to shift. It was a miracle he'd even been able to walk after that."
There was a pause—sharp and sudden.
All of the doctors snapped their attention toward her, eyes wide, and in unison they breathed:
"Spondylolisthesis..."
Avatora, in her droid bot spoke up as she hovered near them.
"Spondylolisthesis occurs when the front part of a vertebra—a bone in the spine—slips forward away from the back part.
In children and teens, it's often a result of trauma and is a common cause of lower back pain.
Mild cases can heal with rest and conservative treatment. However, severe displacement may require surgical intervention."
The explanation hung in the air like a sentence.
A hush fell over the group as the implications set in. This wasn't just a tragic fall or a bruised memory—it was a spinal injury that could have crippled Touya permanently. And no one had known.
Not until now.
Regina continued, her voice calm but heavy with the weight of what she was about to reveal. "The Phoenix—Phi—the very heart of the quirk, had awakened. It had chosen that moment to begin Touya's rebirth. It would have marked the first cycle of his new life, the spark that would have reignited his soul within the flames. However..."
She paused, her glowing emerald eyes narrowing, reflecting the bitter truth behind what came next.
"A darkness was already there—lurking, watching. All For One. That wretched presence was close, far too close. Phi and Jareth had no choice. They were forced to retreat, to lay dormant. They sealed off the portion of Touya's mindscape where they existed—where the Phoenix quirk and Jareth's consciousness were entwined. They hid, because All For One had already made his move. He took Touya from the mountain that day. The boy was left comatose for three years."
Gasps and murmurs echoed softly through the room, but Regina continued, her tone unwavering.
"Even after Touya escaped, even while he lived alone and homeless on the streets... the mindscape remained sealed. Phi and Jareth never stirred. Not once. Because even then, Touya's proximity to All For One's influence was too dangerous. The risk of detection was too high. They couldn't allow themselves to be discovered."
Her gaze softened slightly, glancing toward Rei and Shoto with understanding.
"But then... everything changed. Tomura Shigaraki kidnapped Jess—my reincarnation. And that... that event shifted the balance. It took time. Jareth and Phi had to weaken the barriers from within. They had to pry open Touya's locked mindscape bit by bit, carving out a path without alerting the remnants of All For One's tampering."
Her voice dropped to a reverent hush.
"And finally, they succeeded. That morning, Phi stirred. The rebirth cycle was reinitiated." Regina turned to the gathered doctors, her voice steady but serious. "Phi must complete this first cycle—if not, things will only grow worse. No surgery will heal Touya. His body was far too damaged. We must take him to Celtica. To Jareth's Phoenix Chamber—the one he built before his second cycle. Because when this rebirth happens, it's going to be like a nova bomb going off." Frank's eyes widened in recognition, the memory of the chamber clearly rushing back.
"There's no need."
All heads turned at the new voice.
Dawn sighed. "Brother..."
Striding calmly into the room were River's parents, Reina and Kaname, followed by a striking figure clad in royal navy and gold—King Jetter Falcon Mikcloud himself.
Frank immediately bowed, his head lowered with respect. "My King."
The doctors followed suit, bowing in unison. Even Rei offered a respectful incline of her head. Natsuo blinked but copied them shortly after.
The only ones who didn't bow were Dawn, Regina, Enji, and Fuyumi.
Dawn, as the king's sister, was naturally exempt. Regina didn't bow as a matter of principle. Enji and Fuyumi, however... they simply didn't.
Jetter stepped confidently across the room, his regal presence commanding quiet. Coming to stand beside Regina, he offered a bow of his own—measured, respectful.
"Queen Regina," he said, a warm smile on his face, "it's a pleasure to meet you again—through my niece, once again."
Regina inclined her head with a small nod, never lowering it fully. "King Jetter... then I take it you have the Phoenix Chamber here on-site?"
Jetter nodded. "Yes, my dear. It's being installed right know in B2 lab."
Dawn frowned, clearly unconvinced. "How the hell did you get here so fast? Kaname's teleportation doesn't reach this far—not without burnout."
Jetter's grin widened smugly. "Well, my lovely sister, you can thank my even lovely wife."
Dawn groaned, already bracing herself. "Of course... Violet's quirk, Oracle. She foresaw this, didn't she?"
"She did indeed." Jetter's green eyes gleamed. "She was down in the archive chamber looking for something unrelated, brushed past the Phoenix chamber. That was enough. She saw it all. Past. Present. Future. The entire rebirth sequence. And that was just a day before Touya's quirk went haywire."
Dawn narrowed her eyes sharply. "Then why didn't you say anything sooner?! You wanna die? Because I swear to the stars, I will slap you through a wall again!"
Jetter frowned at his younger sister, but said nothing. Behind him, Reina quietly giggled behind her hand, clearly amused by the sibling tension.
Kaname, ever composed, shook his head with a knowing smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Your Highness," he addressed her with calm formality, "Do not be upset with His Majesty. He wasn't able to say anything. Queen Violet's vision was so strong it nearly forced her into a coma."
Dawn blinked at that, her mouth parting in surprise. "Oh... How is Violet?"
"She's fully recovered—one hundred percent," Jetter assured. "She's here, just... elsewhere."
As their conversation lingered, Regina's expression slowly shifted. An edge of irritation was starting to creep into her features, and she sighed—long, slow, and sharp. The sound was enough to make Frank visibly flinch. But instead of chastising her, his eyes dropped slightly as something caught his attention.
He reached into the pocket of his suit pants, retrieving a neatly folded handkerchief. Without hesitation, he stepped in front of her and gently pressed it against her nose.
Everyone in the room paused—watching the scene unfold, brows raising in confusion.
Regina's eyes drifted closed.
"You're going to overcook Jess's body if you keep pushing," Frank murmured, his tone low but steady. "Let go of control, Regina. Go back into her mindscape."
Regina hummed softly, the sound barely audible. "Yes... that would be best," she agreed, her voice a breath of calm through the strain. "I'll leave Frank in charge of Touya's rebirth. He knows what to do. Jess will be out for a while."
The glow that had subtly surrounded her flickered—then slowly faded, vanishing like dissipating mist. Jess's body slumped forward in its chair, unconscious once again.
Frank was already prepared. He stepped forward and caught her gently, cradling her carefully in his arms like she weighed nothing at all.
Back inside Touya's mindscape, the soft buzz of static faded as Jareth reached forward and clicked off the portable TV, cutting off the live connection to Jess's point of view. The silence that followed was thick but peaceful, only broken by the faint hum of breath from the two nestled figures.
Touya had his arms draped securely around Jess from behind, his chin lightly resting on her shoulder as she held his old goth plushie close. Her fingers absently stroked the velvet-soft fabric as if grounding herself with its presence. The atmosphere was warm, quiet, and strangely gentle—until the sound of the sliding door creaked open.
All three looked up.
Regina swayed into the room like she'd had too much to drink, her steps unsteady and her eyes glassy. But it wasn't intoxication that made her falter—she was clearly exhausted. Jareth reacted instantly. He shot up from the floor with startling speed and caught her before she could hit the ground. Jess's eyes widened in alarm, tightening her grip on the plush.
"You overdid it again, my love," Jareth murmured softly, shifting Regina into his arms with effortless care. He lifted her into a bridal carry, stepping over to the futon with practiced ease, and gently laying her down onto the soft bedding. Regina was already half-asleep, her body limp, a soft hum escaping her lips like a lullaby fading into silence.
Touya watched the entire scene with a raised brow, leaning back just slightly. "So this is where Jess gets the random humming thing—even in her sleep," he muttered under his breath, half teasing but noticeably intrigued.
Jess flushed red and buried her face deeper into the plush toy, muffling an embarrassed groan. "Don't call me out like that..." she mumbled.
Jareth chuckled, clearly enjoying this. "Oh, I know," he said smugly. "She hummed the whole time I was snuggling her earlier—pure contentment."
Jess let out a flustered squeak, still hiding her face, which only made Touya narrow his eyes at Jareth. His expression was sharp, a hint of jealous fire flashing in his gaze. It didn't go unnoticed.
"Oh, come on now," Jareth said with a slow, knowing grin. "We're the same person, remember?"
Touya huffed in irritation, arms tightening just slightly around Jess.
Jareth sat down across from them, his expression softening. "You get that jealousy, that possessiveness... the obsession and drive to protect the one you love—that all comes from me."
Touya blinked, brows twitching as he processed that. "You were like that too?"
Jareth nodded. "Yes. I told you before, Touya—we are the same. I was extremely possessive when it came to Regina. Even as a child, all I ever wanted was to prove myself to my father."
Touya's eyes widened a little at that, clearly caught off guard.
Jareth chuckled, the sound low and nostalgic. "Of course, my father wasn't abusive. But he was strict—especially when it came to education and legacy. He served as the Celtican ambassador to Regina's father, King Stephone. A man of power, influence, and incredibly high expectations."
Jess tilted her head, her curiosity shining through. "How did you meet Regina? It's never really explained in the archives... even in her personal journals. A couple of them are missing."
Jareth's features grew somber, his tone turning quiet. "Because King Stephone was a creep."
Both Jess and Touya stared at him, eyes wide in disbelief.
Jareth reached out gently, his fingers brushing through Regina's wavy hair as she slept peacefully on the futon beside them. "That's not something you'll ever find in any history book. It was all covered up long ago. He never touched her—but the way he looked at her..." He trailed off, a flicker of anger in his expression.
"We were both fifteen the night we met. There was a grand ball being held in the palace, and I—being overwhelmed by the crowd—had slipped out onto one of the balcony's for air. I remember hearing the sharp clicks of heels against marble, and when I turned my head, I saw her."
His eyes softened at the memory.
"She wore an emerald-studded tiara and a gown that shimmered like the stars themselves. But her face was pale, tense—almost panicked. She closed the balcony doors behind her as if escaping something... and that's how it all began."
~21 cenrtury, 2024. Royal Captial City, Celtica~
Jareth sat alone on the balcony, the chilled night breeze gently tugging at the white cloak hanging over his shoulders. He was perched on the edge of the marble railing, one leg pulled up close while the other dangled freely over the side. Above him, the night sky stretched vast and starlit, far more comforting than the grandeur echoing from the ballroom inside.
His jaw clenched slightly. Despite his top-of-class status in academics and excelling through every tier of knight training—yes, that still existed even in the 21st century—his father's expectations never eased. Lord Ravena, the esteemed Ambassador of Celtica, always demanded more. More accolades. More refinement. More achievements. As if Jareth's every success was still somehow lacking. And for what? Their family had been part of Celtica's noble bloodline for generations, yet it never seemed enough.
His fingers curled loosely around the edge of the railing. He swallowed hard, the pressure in his chest swelling with the kind of quiet suffocation that had no place among golden chandeliers and noble pride.
Then—click, click, click.
The sound of heels against stone snapped his thoughts in half. He turned slightly, watching from the corner of his eye as the balcony door opened with a soft creak. A girl stepped out, moving quickly and shutting the door behind her in a panic. She pressed her back against the frame and exhaled sharply, like she had just escaped something.
Jareth's gaze softened, curious. She hadn't noticed him yet, tucked as he was in shadow near the far end of the balcony. But he noticed her—how could he not?
She was breathtaking.
Waves of crimson hair cascaded down her back, pinned with delicate emerald accents that glittered under the starlight. Her gown shimmered like stardust, fitted with silken grace and adorned with an emerald tiara that sat like a crown of forest fire atop her head. Even from a distance, he recognized her. Princess Regina Mikcloud—the first crowned, and only heir of King Stephone and the late Queen Felica.
He'd seen her before in passing, glimpsed from balconies or the pages of noble records. But up close, she was more than a royal name—she was radiant and human, sighing heavily as she made her way toward the opposite end of the balcony. She didn't see him until he finally spoke.
"Good evening, Princess."
She flinched, wide-eyed, as her gaze snapped to the shadows—finally locking onto the young man sitting casually on the marble railing.
Jareth smirked ever so slightly, not out of arrogance, but intrigue. There was a spark in her eyes, something untamed and unsure, that pulled him like gravity.
Regina blinked in surprise, a light frown forming on her lips as her gaze settled on the boy. "I'm sorry... I didn't know there was someone out here."
Jareth opened his mouth to reply, but a sharp set of voices cut through the quiet night air, muffled just behind the thick curtain covering the balcony door.
"Did you find her?"
"No, Your Majesty... she slipped away from me—"
"I assigned you to watch over my precious treasure! You will find her or your head will be on the line. You will find my daughter, or else." the voice hissed with venomous authority.
Jareth's smile faded into a deep frown as his eyes drifted toward the closed door. His expression darkened, not because of the threat in the King's voice—but because of what he saw on Regina's face. She looked absolutely terrified, her posture stiff, her fingers clutching the edge of her gown. Why was the princess so afraid of her own father? The King?
Without hesitation, Jareth stepped forward and extended his hand toward her. "Come with me," he said, voice calm but urgent. "I know a place here in the palace—somewhere overlooked, forgotten even."
Regina looked up at him, wide-eyed. "I've been all over this palace... Where is it?" Her tone was laced with both caution and curiosity. Then her eyes narrowed ever so slightly. "Wait—who are you?"
Jareth offered her a small smile. "Lord Jareth Ravena."
Her eyes widened instantly. "You're... the Ambassador's son. The one born with that rare blue fire quirk..."
The voices beyond the door drew nearer, heavy footsteps shuffling across polished marble. Regina instinctively stepped back toward the edge of the balcony in panic. Her breath caught. Jareth's hand remained steady, unwavering.
"Princess, come on," he urged gently, eyes never leaving hers.
There was a long pause. Her gaze flicked between his hand and the curtain swaying in the breeze—where danger lurked just on the other side. Slowly, she moved forward and reached out. Her fingers touched his, and Jareth's grip closed around her hand with careful strength.
A soft smile touched his lips. "Hold on tight."
Before Regina could fully react, he scooped her effortlessly into his arms, drawing a surprised gasp from her lips. Blue flames erupted around them in a circular arc—but they weren't hot. In fact, they radiated a soothing warmth, like a gentle spring breeze on a sunny day.
The world shifted.
Regina gasped again—not in fear, but awe—as the balcony dropped away beneath them and the air rushed past. They soared above the palace grounds, her body cradled securely in Jareth's arms. She clutched the lapel of his jacket, heart pounding, her senses flooded with a scent she couldn't place. It was earthy and deep, like amber and volcanic stone—wild, grounding, and strangely comforting.
Her muscles relaxed without her realizing it. As the wind caressed her skin and his hold stayed firm, she found herself humming softly, almost instinctively, her head resting against his shoulder.
Jareth's boots touched down softly on the polished stone floor as he glided through an open arched window, still holding Regina in his arms. The blue fire around them flickered away in wisps as they landed, its warmth fading into the cool, hushed atmosphere of the room.
"Princess," he said gently, "we're here."
Regina blinked, eyes adjusting to the sudden change in scenery. As she slowly lifted her head from his shoulder, her gaze widened in awe. The room was breathtaking—an octagonal study framed by towering arched windows that offered a view of moonlit mountains and a cascade of clouds curling like silver mist between the peaks. Shelves of books lined the dark wooden walls, curving upward toward a domed ceiling painted like the night sky, constellations delicately etched in gold.
The rug beneath them was plush and royal blue, woven with an intricate silver pattern that shimmered faintly in the low lantern light. A velvet tufted couch sat beside a round table stacked with leather-bound volumes, and a low ottoman stood near a curious glass orb glowing faintly at its base.
Regina's cheeks flushed as she suddenly became aware that Jareth was still holding her.
"Uhm... you can let me down now..." she murmured, avoiding his eyes.
Jareth chuckled softly, the sound rich and warm in the quiet room. "Of course, Princess," he said with a teasing edge, carefully setting her down onto the carpeted floor.
She straightened her gown with a subtle tug and stepped forward, slowly turning in a circle as she took in her surroundings. Her voice came out in a hushed whisper, awestruck and reverent. "Where... is this place?"
Jareth's eyes wandered over the room with a fondness that suggested familiarity and memory. "It's a forgotten personal study," he explained, his voice low and thoughtful. "The entrance was bricked over, long ago. No one's used it for decades—maybe longer. I found it by accident while flying around the palace during quirk training."
He smiled at her, watching her eyes flick from shelf to shelf, window to window, her fingers trailing lightly over a gilded book spine as if afraid to disturb the peace within the room.
"No one ever comes here," Jareth added quietly. "It's safe."
Regina turned back toward him, her expression still soft with wonder. "It's beautiful..."
Jareth nodded with a quiet smile. "I thought you'd like it," he murmured, before moving to settle himself on the velvet couch. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees, his vibrant green eyes watching her intently. "So," he continued, voice soft but serious, "you gonna tell me why you had that terrified look on your face, Princess?"
Regina stiffened slightly at the question, her gaze drifting away as a frown tugged at her lips. She stepped slowly toward one of the towering bookshelves, her fingers brushing the gilded spines as if searching for grounding. After a moment, she answered, her voice low. "My father... is trying to find a wife."
Jareth blinked, confusion flickering in his expression. "But why? He's was already married to—"
"Did you know," she began, she reached up to a shelf slightly above her head and gently pulled down a book. The binding was ancient—worn leather etched with fading gold filigree. It looked as though it belonged in a medieval archive, yet somehow the pages were pristine, untouched by time or decay. She opened it slowly, thumbing through the parchment-like pages with reverence. "that in ancient Egypt, especially within royal families, marriages between siblings—even parents and close family members—were common?" Her tone was quiet, almost academic, though it was clear she was distancing herself emotionally from what she was saying. "It was meant to preserve divine bloodlines... to maintain power within a single dynasty. Pharaohs were believed to descend from gods, and close-kin marriages kept their lineage pure."
Jareth's brows furrowed. A cold chill settled in his chest.
"Even though the practice hasn't been followed here in Celtica since the late Middle Ages," Regina continued, her fingers resting gently on the page, "it was never officially outlawed... just... forgotten."
Jareth's jaw clenched. His hands slowly curled into fists, knuckles turning white against his dark trousers. "But it's not banned... is it?" he asked, his voice low and tightly controlled.
Regina turned to face him, sorrow glimmering in her eyes as she shook her head. "No... it's not."
Jareth stood up, his shoes soft against the old rug as he stepped closer to her. "You're... fifteen," he said quietly, his tone heavy. "We're the same age... What age does—?"
Regina looked away before he could finish. Her voice came out in a quiet murmur. "My next birthday. When I turn sixteen... it'll be official. On paper, it'll be some fake noble name—but in reality... it'll be him." Her voice trembled. "It's disgusting, isn't it? I don't know why he would do something so vile..."
Jareth's expression darkened. His jaw clenched as a low growl rumbled in his chest. Swirls of blue fire began to flicker around him like angry ribbons, wrapping his frame in ethereal heat. Regina flinched slightly, but didn't step away—her eyes stayed on him.
He started to pace, hands balled at his sides. "There's gotta be something we can do... Maybe we can talk to my father! He has connections, and he can help—"
"He was at the meeting," Regina interrupted, her voice bitter with the weight of betrayal. "And he agreed."
Jareth froze mid-step, staring at her as if she'd slapped him.
"I had Hanna listen in," she continued. "She's a maid with a quirk that lets her hear from anywhere. She's the only one besides you who knows... outside of that room."
"No..." Jareth whispered, shaking his head in disbelief. "No, my father wouldn't... He wouldn't—"
"Unless he feared what my father would do to him," Regina said softly, her gaze now fixed on the book still in her hands. "My father's quirk... it's terrifying, Jareth. He can show someone their worst nightmares—pull their deepest fears out of them and force them to relive it. It can break minds. It's even killed before... from sheer madness."
The room fell into an eerie silence, the soft crackle of Jareth's flames the only sound between them. For a moment, Regina thought he'd fallen into stunned silence—until he suddenly looked up, eyes alight with a wild, defiant idea.
"What if... we run away?" he said quietly, the words carrying the weight of desperation and hope. "To Grivida."
Regina blinked in disbelief. "You'd really do that... for me?"
"Yeah!" Jareth replied with conviction, his flames flickering brighter with purpose.
She stepped toward him, lowering her voice. "But Jareth... how? Grivida isn't just some distant kingdom—it's hidden. The entire country sits on a rhombus-shaped island, cloaked with the most advanced concealment and defense systems in the world. It's veiled in a multi-layered illusion barrier, and further protected by technology only they've mastered. It lies deep within the Bermuda Triangle in the north-western Atlantic Ocean."
Jareth listened, his jaw tightening.
"The only way in," Regina continued, "is through a teleportation gate located in Ireland. Celtica doesn't have access to that kind of tech... let alone the clearance to even go through the portal...."
He crossed his arms, that flicker of a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. "But you're not just anyone, Regina. You're the Princess of Celtica. The daughter of Queen Felica—and Felica was the closest friend of Grivida's current king, Zachariah Meyers."
Regina froze, lips parting in stunned silence.
Jareth pressed on, eyes sharp. "He's the one with that Noblesse quirk... right? The one with absolute command over blood, psychic dominion, aura manipulation... My father called him a walking nightmare cloaked in elegance."
Regina exhaled slowly, the memories creeping back. "My mother said Zachariah's very presence could bring armies to their knees. That his aura alone could force people to submit, and that his blood-based power could erase life... or restore it."
Jareth took a step closer. "Then we go to him. Your mother was good friends with him. If anyone can protect you, Regina, it's Zachariah Meyers."
She stared at him, conflicted—hope and fear warring in her emerald eyes. "You'd leave everything? Your name, your future, your family... just to protect me?"
Without hesitation, Jareth reached out and gently took her hand, the heat of his palm grounding her in the chaos swirling around them. His voice came out low, steady, but full of something raw—something she hadn't heard before. "I'd leave the world behind for you."
Regina's breath caught in her throat. Her cheeks, already warm from the glow of his fire, bloomed with a deeper flush. Her emerald eyes widened slightly as her gaze flicked up to meet his, full of emotion she hadn't yet found the words to name. She wasn't used to anyone speaking with such sincerity—let alone someone willing to defy everything for her.
Jareth watched her reaction, then suddenly pouted, the intensity of the moment breaking just enough for a hint of boyish charm to slip through. "Stop being so cute..." he muttered.
Before she could respond, he leaned in and pressed his lips softly to hers.
Regina froze. Her eyes widened, shocked—not in fear or resistance, but in awe. The warmth of the kiss wasn't from his quirk; it was from him. Gentle, reverent, and yet completely unfiltered, like a spark he couldn't hold back any longer. The world around them—the forgotten study, the cold stone walls, the threats beyond the hidden door—faded away in the stillness of that shared breath.
When they finally pulled apart, Jareth's forehead came to rest against hers. His voice, though quiet, carried a steel resolve. "My cousin owes me a favor," he murmured. "He's a private jet pilot. I can get him to take us to Ireland."
Regina blinked, trying to steady herself—emotionally and physically. Her heart was hammering against her ribcage like it wanted to leap free. "You really have someone who can fly us there?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
He nodded. "He's ex-military, flies under radar. Discreet. Loyal. He'll get us to Ireland."
Regina swallowed, overwhelmed by how quickly things were becoming real. For the first time in her life, someone was choosing her—not her crown, not her bloodline, not what she could offer politically. Just her.
"...Then we'll need to leave soon," she said quietly, steeling herself as she looked up at him again. "Before my father tightens security even more."
Jareth nodded solemnly and wrapped his arms around her again—not possessively, but protectively. His warmth was grounding, his confidence something she desperately needed to borrow. "We'll get out. I promise," he said firmly. Then he pulled back just slightly, his voice taking on a more practical tone. "But first, we need a change of clothes."
Regina blinked. "Wait, what—"
"You can't leave in that stunning gown, Princess," Jareth said with a mischievous glint in his eye. "Trust me, I know your size."
Regina's cheeks flared crimson. "You what?"
He smirked at her flustered expression, clearly enjoying the rare chance to fluster royalty. "Tailor's intuition. Plus, I've seen you from across palace events more than a few times."
Her expression faltered at that—just slightly—but she didn't protest.
Jareth stepped toward the window, pausing to look back one last time. "You stay here, alright? No one's looking for me, so it's safer this way. Besides, I actually rigged this place with a few amenities."
Regina raised a brow. "Amenities?"
He grinned. "There's a mini fridge tucked in the corner—hooked up and everything. Had to sneak in a military-grade camouflage extension cord to keep it powered without drawing attention. Took some work, but I like my snacks cold."
She blinked in surprise. A secret hideout. A hidden study. A fridge. This was the Ambassador's son?
Before she could even respond, Jareth turned, blue flames already crackling around his frame.
"Relax," he added over his shoulder. "I'll be back with something more... rebel-chic."
Then, without another word, he vaulted over the edge of the balcony in a flash of swirling sapphire flame.
Regina rushed to the window with a gasp, eyes wide as she watched the sight unfold before her. He didn't fall—he soared—a living myth streaking across the sky in a glowing arc of blue fire. The way the flames licked the air and danced around him—it was like watching a phoenix take flight.
"Beautiful..." she whispered, her breath catching in awe.
And for the first time in her life, she realized freedom wasn't just a concept—it was a feeling.
And it had wings of blue fire.
Chapter 18
Notes:
(( note: I have uploaded it but There's properly errors so when I lay down I will read and edit it over while laying for bed.))
((This Chapter cover's on the past between on Regina and Jareth!))
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Jareth landed softly outside his family's private wing of the palace, his boots barely making a sound against the stone. He moved swiftly, his heart still racing—not from exertion, but from the weight of what he was doing. Regina was hidden safely in his secret study, but every moment away from her made him uneasy.
As he walked down the corridor, hushed voices drifted from around the corner.
"So she just ran away?" came his father's voice—measured, cautious.
"You understand that we are doing everything we can, Your Majesty..."
"I don't care!" hissed King Stephone. "Jonah, you will find her, or I will make certain you suffer what's to come. I'll make your son relive the trauma of his mother's death—watching her die of cancer again and again, right before his eyes. You signed this agreement. You will see it through."
There was a pause, then a weak reply, "Y-Yes... of course, my King..."
Footsteps approached.
Jareth's breath caught. He quickly opened the nearest storage closet, slipping inside and pulling the door closed just as the king's heavy steps passed.
"Naughty girl..." Stephone muttered darkly. "She will be punished."
His voice faded down the hall, and Jareth slowly emerged from the closet, rage simmering just beneath the surface.
What a disgusting man...
He made his way toward his father's office. The door was open.
"Jareth! Get in here."
Jareth halted, jaw clenched, then stepped into the room. His father sat behind a large, ornate desk littered with documents and comm screens.
"What is it, Father?" he asked evenly. "Was that the king I just saw?"
Jonah's expression tightened before he let out a resigned sigh. "Yes. Apparently, the Princess has run off again—for the fifth time now."
Jareth frowned. "Why would she keep running...?"
"She's the heir to the throne," Jonah replied with a shrug. "She's being crowned at sixteen. Probably feels the pressure building." He shook his head and added, "The king says he's stepping down due to a heart condition."
Jareth crossed his arms, trying not to let his discomfort show.
Jonah looked at him curiously. "Have you seen the Princess at all tonight? Even at the ball?"
"I don't recall," Jareth said, voice casual. "I disappeared after that... young lady, Michella, tried to throw herself at me."
His father chuckled dryly. "She's a noble girl, decent lineage—age-appropriate too. Lovely quirk, pretty. That's a good match. I think I'll begin arranging it."
"No." Jareth's voice cut through the room like a blade.
Jonah straightened, frowning. "Jareth..."
"No, Father!" Jareth's voice rose sharply, no longer holding back the frustration he'd buried for years. "This is the twenty-first century, not the fucking Middle Ages! I'm fifteen! Let me be fifteen! Let me attend school, finish my knight training—maybe even go to college. But I will not be pawned off in some archaic marriage arrangement like cattle. I refuse."
Without waiting for a response, he turned on his heel and stormed out. At the doorway, he paused and looked back over his shoulder.
His father froze.
The look in Jareth's eyes wasn't merely anger—it was disgust.
"You, the king, and the rest of Parliament... you all disgust me," Jareth said, his voice quiet but dark, trembling with controlled rage. "Mother would be ashamed of what you're doing."
Then he was gone.
Jonah remained seated, unmoving, heart pounding like a war drum in his chest.
No... it couldn't be... His thoughts raced. My son shouldn't know what's happening. No one outside that council chamber knew the truth. We were explicitly ordered to keep our mouths shut...
His hands clenched the arms of his chair.
Did someone leak it? Who...?
Back in Jareth's hidden study, deep within the forgotten wing of the palace, Regina sat curled up on the elegant indigo couch. An old, leather-bound book rested in her hands, its pages worn with time, her thumb gently tracing the faded corner. Beside her on the nightstand, a chilled cherry cola sat half-empty, tiny beads of condensation clinging to the glass.
She shifted slightly, fidgeting in the grand emerald gown that now felt tight and constricting. With a soft sigh, she closed the book and leaned back, letting her head rest against the plush cushions. The quiet of the room wrapped around her like a heavy blanket—peaceful, yet isolating.
She felt alone.
Jareth... he made her feel wanted. Not like a political tool. Not like property. He made her feel seen.
Unlike her father.
Shaking her head, her expression darkened. Whatever love or respect she'd once clung to for that man had withered. She didn't just resent him—she despised him. How could he do this to me? It didn't make sense. Why?
A terrible question echoed in her mind—one she'd never dared give voice to until now.
Was she even his real daughter?
She had to be. Her mother, Lady Felica, had only ever been with him. Right?
Reaching for the velvet bag tucked beside the couch, Regina opened it slowly, pulling out a delicate photograph—one of the few she had left. Her breath caught as her eyes met the familiar, radiant figure captured in time.
Her mother had been so breathtaking.
Lady Felica Mikcloud. Regal, warm, powerful. She'd possessed a quirk so rare it was spoken of in reverent whispers—Cosmic Aura. With it, she could summon and control a radiant field of cosmic energy, wrapping herself in shimmering galaxies and nebulas that danced across her skin. That energy granted her not only heightened strength, speed, and agility, but the power to shield, soar, and manipulate the very forces of the universe around her. Her hair had shimmered like a nebula in starlight—celestial waves of color, deep violet with streaks of stardust and twilight blue.
Regina traced the edge of the photo with her thumb, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Mother... what should I do...?"
Her emerald eyes filled with uncertainty.
"Should I go with Jareth to Grivida? Should I seek help from your old friend... King Zachariah?"
Regina stared down at the photo in her hands, silent tears slipping down her cheeks. Her mother's smile, immortalized in the still image, felt like a balm and a blade all at once—so full of warmth, and yet a piercing reminder of everything she had lost.
Her thumb brushed over the edge of the picture just as a faint rustling caught her attention.
A shadow moved at the window.
She gasped, eyes widening in alarm—but then her heart settled as she recognized the figure stepping down from the open window. It was Jareth.
He wore a black hoodie, pulled up slightly from the breeze, black pants, and a pair of worn black Converse. A large duffle bag hung heavily over one shoulder. With a soft grunt, he pulled the window shut behind him and tugged the thick curtains closed. The soft lamplight bathed the room in a golden glow as he turned toward her, offering a gentle smile.
"Back, Princess," he said casually—then paused as his eyes landed on her face. His smile faded. "Wait... why are you crying...?"
Regina quickly sniffed and turned her head, wiping her tears with the back of her hand. "It's okay... I was just thinking about my mother."
She glanced down again at the photograph clutched in her hands, her voice soft.
Jareth's expression melted into something tender as he dropped the duffle bag by the wall and walked over. Without hesitation, he sat down beside her, close—closer than before. The warmth of his presence was comforting, a quiet anchor in her storm.
Leaning over slightly, his eyes dropped to the photo.
"I remember meeting her when I was five," he said with a nostalgic smile. "I thought her hair was the prettiest thing I'd ever seen. Like the night sky had spilled into it—galaxies, stars, everything. She looked like someone out of a dream."
Regina blinked at him, caught off guard by the memory—and the honesty in his tone.
"She always said her quirk made her a light in the darkness," Regina whispered. "I used to think she could chase away anything bad."
"She did," Jareth said simply, his voice low and sincere. "She still does... through you."
He stood, brushing imaginary dust off his hoodie and straightening up. "So... shall we get you out of that ball gown? You look super uncomfy."
Regina flushed, clutching the fabric instinctively. "My handmaidens normally help me... it's difficult in the back."
Jareth chuckled softly and extended a hand toward her. "Then allow me, Princess." He gently took her hands and pulled her to her feet. "Turn."
Regina blinked at him, hesitant for a second, but slowly turned around. Her long, elegant raspberry-red braid—intricately woven and reaching all the way to her ankles—fell over her back like a royal tapestry. Jareth stepped closer, carefully brushing the braid over her shoulder to expose the back of her dress.
His eyebrows lifted as he examined the design. "Mhmm... a triple zipper? Fancy. Hold still, Princess."
Regina's heart pounded in her chest, the closeness making her skin prickle with warmth. She raised her hands nervously, clasping them near her chest as Jareth began to work on the zippers.
"God, how do your handmaidens ever get these off you?" he muttered, tugging gently.
"I have no idea..." Regina mumbled, utterly mortified.
"Ah! Got one. Two more to go," Jareth grinned, his tone playful but focused as he continued.
Regina nodded wordlessly, her cheeks burning. She wasn't used to anyone but her maids helping her change—certainly not a boy. But with Jareth, it didn't feel wrong. Just... unfamiliar. And for some reason, oddly safe.
Jareth had finally gotten the last of the three zippers undone. Regina stood still, arms crossed over her chest, holding the now-loose gown in place. Meanwhile, he rummaged through the duffle bag.
"I brought some of my cousin's old clothes from when she was our age," Jareth said, holding up a silky sage green pajama set. "She won't even notice they're gone."
Regina flushed slightly. "Do you have a bathroom up here? Or... no?"
Jareth glanced up, pausing for a moment. Then he stood, pajamas in hand. "I do. Come on, I'll show you."
She followed behind him, her steps careful as she held her dress closed. He led her to a tucked-away door near the bookcases. When he opened it, a cool draft greeted them—beyond the threshold was a winding stone staircase.
"This is the main stairwell," Jareth explained. "I found it while exploring the tower after I discovered the room above during flight training. The bottom entrance is sealed off—bricked up a long time ago. But the upper floors were untouched. A few levels down is the old bathroom. I renovated it a bit—kept the medieval feel, but made it livable."
Regina blinked in awe at the aged stonework. "It's... beautiful. I never imagined anything like this existed in the palace..."
He chuckled. "Come on. It's safe—I reinforced everything myself."
Regina nodded, still holding up the gown as she followed him carefully down the spiral stairs. The stone curved downward in a graceful arc, lit dimly by warm lanterns along the wall. After a few turns, they stopped at a carved wooden door. Jareth pushed it open.
"This used to be the original bathroom," he said. "The plumbing was awful, so I gutted it and installed modern piping. Kept the architecture though."
Regina stepped inside and gasped softly. The room glowed with warm candlelight. A polished stone basin rested on a wooden vanity, while a modernized toilet and a curtained shower stall stood along the far wall. Despite the upgrades, the stone arches and rustic furniture gave it a timeless charm.
"It's amazing..." she breathed.
Jareth smiled from the doorway, hands casually in his hoodie pockets. "Told you you'd be surprised."
He stepped forward and gently placed the sage silk pajamas on the counter beside the sink. "I brought some of my cousin's stuff too—her unopened shampoo and conditioner soap bars, plus that Olay Body Wash with Shea Butter and Lavender Oil. Never used. Honestly, she just stockpiles these and forgets about them."
He glanced at Regina with a teasing smirk. "Hope you don't mind everything smelling like lavender?"
Regina flushed faintly, brushing a strand of her hair behind her ear. "I like lavender... and lemon..."
Jareth's smirk deepened. "Good. Then you're in for a relaxing shower." He motioned to the small shelf by the mirror. "You can use my black loofah too—it's clean."
He stepped back toward the door, his voice softening. "Take your time. When you're finished and dressed, just head on back up."
Regina gave a small nod, still holding the sage pajamas against her chest. "Thank you, Jareth..."
With a reassuring look, he gently closed the door behind him, leaving her alone in the cozy, stone-lined bathroom.
Regina smiled softly to herself as she finally let go of her gown, allowing the heavy fabric to pool at her feet with a soft rustle. Carefully stepping out of it, she walked toward the mirror, the cool stone floor beneath her feet grounding her in the moment. She began removing her earrings one by one, then unclasped her necklace and set each accessory gently onto the counter. Rings, pins, and jeweled combs followed.
Finally, with a deep breath, she reached up and began to undo her thick, intricate braid—her long raspberry-red hair slowly unraveling as the weave came apart. Each silky strand shimmered like a flowing river of rubies. She'd grown it out in honor of her Celtican heritage—a proud mix of Irish, Scottish, and Welsh ancestry. The Celtican royal line carried many of the ancient Celtic bloodlines, particularly those of the old pagan Scottish clans. It was a part of herself she held close, a legacy she felt deeply proud of... even if her current life made that pride hard to carry.
Moving over to the shower, she pulled back the soft white curtain, revealing the creamy stone interior—simple, yet elegant. The piping was a burnished copper that gleamed faintly in the lantern light. Regina smiled faintly at the warm, natural look. It lacked the opulence of the palace bathrooms, but that was what made it so comforting. It felt... normal.
She reached out and turned the brass knob, letting the water flow. Testing it with her hand, she adjusted the temperature until it settled into a perfect, soothing warmth. Steam began to fill the room, curling around the stone walls like a gentle veil.
Turning back, she picked up the soap bars and body wash Jareth had set aside for her and stepped into the shower. Drawing the curtain closed behind her, she placed the lavender and lemon shampoo bar, conditioner, and Olay body wash on the ledge built into the wall. As the warm water flowed over her, she closed her eyes, letting out a quiet sigh. Humming softly to herself, she felt her tension slowly begin to melt away.
It wasn't grand, it wasn't regal—but in this hidden corner of the world, under a stream of lavender-scented steam, Regina felt something she hadn't in a long time.
Peace.
Up in the heart of the forgotten tower, where the arched windows opened like cathedral gates to the mist-covered mountains beyond, Jareth moved with quiet purpose. The room was nothing short of enchanting—a sanctuary carved from ancient stone and cloaked in midnight hues. Shelves of leather-bound books lined the curved walls, stretching from floor to ceiling. Star-shaped gold inlays shimmered on the vaulted ceiling above, echoing the heavens through the glass. It felt like a world between worlds.
Near one of the tall, stained-glass windows, Jareth approached a shadowed alcove—his secret storage. Tucked neatly away behind a thick velvet curtain was a preserved plastic-wrapped mattress, hidden from dust, pests, and the ravages of time. With a grunt, he pulled it free. The plastic crinkled loudly against the woven rugs as he placed it directly in front of the tall windows, where the view of the clouds and distant cliffs framed the world like a painting.
Once unwrapped, the memory foam mattress unfurled like a blooming flower—thick, plush, and a stark contrast to the old stone beneath it. He retrieved his navy-blue jersey sheet set, the same one he'd kept sealed for a moment like this. With practiced ease, he dressed the bed—the fitted sheet stretched tight, the comforter smoothed, and the pillows, already tucked in their cases, fluffed and arranged with symmetrical precision. Against the deep wood tones and sapphire accents of the room, the bed blended beautifully, a modern island in a sea of timeless elegance.
Turning from the bed, he crossed to the other side of the room where a small iron-and-glass hotpot rested atop a reinforced table. The space here was modernized subtly, cleverly—his modifications never clashing with the room's antique atmosphere. He powered the hotpot with a quiet click, watching the light blink on. A swirl of steam curled upward as the coil beneath began to warm.
Tonight's meal was special.
He laid out the ingredients with practiced care, pulling vacuum-sealed containers from the bag—each one marked with the store's lettering the name of the product and the price.
This was her autumn recipe—French Onion Beef Stew—the one she always made when the first cold winds swept through Celtica. Just like tonight.
He began by preparing and searing the beef, tossing the cubed pieces in a mix of flour, salt, and pepper. The hot pot hissed as he added oil and browned the meat to a rich, golden crisp. Once done, he scooped the beef back into the bowl, letting the remaining flour cling to it for thickening later.
Without pause, he moved to the next step. In the same pot, he melted a generous spoonful of butter, using a wooden spatula to scrape up every browned bit from the bottom. He then added the pre-sliced red onions—bought that way on purpose, since he wasn't in the mood to cry—and fresh garlic. The room quickly filled with the comforting scent of caramelizing onions, their golden edges deepening in color with each stir.
Golden light from the wall sconces shimmered across the tall, glass-paneled windows—curtains already drawn, casting warmth through the dark gothic space. The soft bubbling of the stew was the only sound, a melody of home.
Next came the deglazing—he reached for the brandy, smirking slightly. Totally stole this from Dad's liquor cabinet. He splashed it in with flair, then added Worcestershire sauce, letting it all reduce. The aroma was rich and nostalgic. Once the liquid had mostly evaporated, he poured in the beef stock, returned the seared beef to the pot, and added thyme and bay leaves.
He stirred gently, steam curling from the stew as it began to thicken and settle into a slow, hearty simmer. His gaze drifted to the freshly made bed in the center of the tower room, wrapped in navy-blue jersey sheets, the memory foam mattress already sinking from where he'd leaned.
Soon, Regina would return—her skin warm from the shower, wrapped in soft sage-colored silk. And for the first time in a long while, this place—this forgotten, gothic hideaway—wouldn't feel quite so empty.
Warm food. Soft sheets. A tower hidden from the world.
For tonight, it was enough.
With everything stirred together and the flavors blending beautifully, Jareth placed the lid over the pot and turned the heat down to simmer. It would need at least five hours—but the slow cooking was worth every second. The rich aroma already filled the tower room, a nostalgic warmth clinging to the air like a blanket.
He wiped his hands on a towel and reached for his phone, tapping the screen. The soft blue glow lit up his face.
5:00 PM.
He raised an eyebrow. Only five?
The ball started at three... and brought her here around three-thirty. I took maybe half an hour getting back and prepping all this probably took another half hour...
He blinked. So she's been in the bathroom for nearly an hour?
His lips curled into a quiet smile, eyes flicking toward the spiral staircase that led down to the refurbished bathroom. Must be that beautiful hair of hers. That braid probably took forever to undo... and washing that much length? Yeah, no wonder it's taking time.
He chuckled under his breath.
"God... she is adorable."
Shaking his head with fond amusement, he set the kitchen timer on his phone for five hours. A small buzz confirmed the countdown.
Done at 10 PM.
Perfect.
The stew would be ready by the time night settled fully over Celtica, by the time the moon was high and the palace world had long stopped searching for a missing princess.
He glanced at the bed again, then to the soft flicker of the sconces, then toward the staircase.
And for the first time, anticipation felt like warmth—not pressure.
The door creaked open, and Jareth glanced up just as Regina stepped in, now dressed in the silk sage green pajamas he'd laid out earlier. His breath caught slightly—she looked soft, elegant, real in a way that pierced right through him.
Jareth blinked. "Did you see the, uh... you know, the undies I left with the bundle clothes?"
Regina flushed as she stepped further into the room. "Y-Yeah... your cousin and I must be about the same size." She paused, brushing a strand of damp hair behind her ear. "But... no bra?"
Jareth blinked again, his brain taking a second to catch up. "Oh—no, wait, I think it's in the bag if you wanna—"
She shook her head, her voice quieter now, more vulnerable. "I like to sleep... without anything underneath. It just feels more comfortable." A shy smile tugged at her lips. "Also... I can't sleep with socks on. Feels weird. Silly, huh?"
Jareth's grin grew. "I'm the same way! Can't stand anything on my feet when I sleep—makes me feel like I'm suffocating."
Regina's eyes lit up, delighted. "Same!"
Then her expression turned sheepish again. "Oh... do you have a fan? And maybe a hairbrush?"
Jareth gasped dramatically. "Oh, I totally forgot!" He rushed over to the duffel bag and started rummaging through it.
While he was distracted, Regina's gaze wandered to the middle of the tower room—and her eyes widened. "Wait... where did that bed come from?"
"Closet," Jareth answered without looking up, pulling out items. "I keep it here in case I need to get away from the palace wing. Father moved us after Mother died. He couldn't stand living in the main house without her..." His voice softened at the end.
He stood and turned back to her, holding out a pale blue brush. Regina took it with a smile that reached her eyes.
"Stitch?" she asked, laughing softly. "Your cousin likes Disney?"
Jareth chuckled as he walked to the corner. "She still does. But this one was just sitting there unused, so I grabbed it."
He walked off to the closet. "Have a seat—I'll set up for you. Oh, and dinner will be done around ten. Is that okay?"
Regina nodded as she sat on the edge of the freshly made bed, running the bristles gently through her damp, raspberry-red hair. "Y-Yeah... that's perfect."
Jareth pulled the sleek black box fan from where he had tucked it the closet. He set it down on the floor with care, inspecting it with a thoughtful nod. The last time he used it in this room, he had cleaned it meticulously before packing it away. Still spotless.
He clicked it on, the soft hum of the blades spinning to life echoing beneath the tower's arched ceiling. The breeze was gentle, stirring the air just enough to bring comfort—not chill. He had Miltary grade powerstrip and genrator he has thats in the 2nd closet of the room. That gives power and charger from solar rays. Luckly have his quirk, making his fire bright can actual help with the charging.
As he stood up, his gaze drifted toward Regina.
She sat on the edge of the bed, bathed in golden light from the sconces, the Stitch hairbrush gliding slowly through the long, damp lengths of her hair. Raspberry red strands gleamed as she moved, her back to him. She looked peaceful... but vulnerable.
Jareth's brows drew together. That hair—gorgeous as it was—would be a dead giveaway. Especially once they had to travel.
They wouldn't be able to avoid it much longer. The rendezvous with his cousin at the private airport company was already set. And too many people in Celtica knew what the runaway princess looked like.
"I think... we should cut your hair," he said suddenly, the words spilling out before he could soften them.
Regina froze mid-brush. Her eyes widened as she turned, blinking at him. "Wha... why...?"
Her voice trembled slightly—not from fear, but from something deeper. Loss. Identity.
Jareth hesitated, stepping closer. "Your hair, it's too recognizable, Regina. Especially for anyone who's ever seen you in the media or around the palace. It's stunning. But it's also dangerous right now."
Regina's shoulders sank as her fingers lingered over the thick ends of her damp raspberry hair, its length cascading past her waist like a royal banner of her lineage. With a heavy sigh and a soft nod, she murmured, "Okay... let's do it."
Jareth chuckled gently, brushing his hands along the fabric of his pajama pants as he stood. "Have a seat, Princess. I'll grab a towel and the scissors."
Regina padded over to the deep navy velvet armchair—the same one she'd brushed her hair in earlier—and sat with quiet anticipation. The Stitch brush still lay in her lap, its cheerful design a strange comfort.
Moments later, Jareth returned with a plush navy towel and something glinting in his hand. He draped the towel over her shoulders and eased her braid forward, gently smoothing the strands across the fabric. In his hand were the ornate antique scissors—restored to pristine condition, their silver filigree gleaming faintly in the firelight. Delicate, intricate, and sharp as the day they were forged. A relic of the past, given new purpose.
He crouched beside her, tapping his chin thoughtfully as he studied the length of her hair. "Let's see..." he muttered, eyes scanning with an artist's precision. Then, slowly, a smirk formed on his lips. He knew exactly what length would complement her face, conceal her identity just enough, and still leave her regal.
"No turning back now," he teased gently as he positioned the blades. "Deep breath."
The first snip was smooth. Clean. Regina closed her eyes as the weight began to lift, lock by lock, centuries of tradition falling away onto the towel in soft, damp coils.
Jareth worked with quiet concentration, every motion intentional and reverent, as though honoring not just her heritage—but the choice she made to let it go. And when it was done, Jareth stepped back and exhaled.
"...Perfect," he said quietly, voice touched with awe.
Regina hesitated before lifting her hand to feel the ends, now grazing her shoulders in soft waves. She blinked in surprise—then smiled.
It was still her.
Just... freer.
Jareth chuckled as he stepped around to her side, brushing a few stray strands from her shoulder. "Let me just fix the ends so it's even," he murmured. "Brush?"
Regina lifted the Stitch paddle brush from her lap and offered it up to him. His fingers brushed gently over hers as he took it—careful, grounding. Without a word, he began brushing through her freshly cut hair, slow and methodical, catching the soft, scattered strands that had loosened from the snip.
A few moments passed, the only sound the low hum of the box fan in the corner and the occasional tug of the brush through her thick waves. Then he set the brush aside, crouched again, and began trimming the edges with precise flicks of the ornate scissors.
"Mmhmm..." he said after a moment, voice tinged with mischief. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you look ridiculously adorable with short hair."
Regina's face flushed immediately. Her fingers twitched in her lap. "I... I was thinking about cutting it back when I was ten," she admitted, eyes lowered. "But... my dad told me no."
Her voice thinned, quiet with shame and something older—something bruised. Her hand reflexively curled around the hem of the towel as a wave of guilt washed through her chest. All these years... all that time she'd kept growing it out. And not because she wanted to.
It was never really her choice.
"I remember... my mom told me once," she continued softly, her voice barely above the fan's hum, "that whether it was long or short, it was still my hair. Still mine."
Jareth paused. The scissors rested in his hand, his expression unreadable for a moment. Then he gently placed the brush back on the table and combed his fingers through the newly cut locks, brushing them into place with a soft, steady rhythm.
"Don't think of that man as owning anything about you," he said at last, voice low but firm. "He doesn't own your hair. He doesn't own your body. And he sure as hell doesn't own you."
The scissors clinked softly as he set them down beside the brush. His voice dipped slightly, heavy with disdain.
"To me? He's no father. Just a sick, power-drunk bastard who should've been locked away in an asylum years ago. He is no king of mine, to anymore."
Regina blinked—then let out a soft, startled laugh. The sound was light, almost musical, breaking the tension like a cracked window letting in spring air.
It made Jareth smile without even realizing it.
"There it is," he whispered, brushing one last loose strand behind her ear. "That laugh. That's yours. That's all you, Princess."
Regina flushed, eyes darting away. Jareth chuckled, clearly pleased.
"Well then!" he said cheerfully, scooping up the freshly cut locks of crimson. "I'll burn this tomorrow. For now..." He glanced around, then nodded toward the corner. "I'll stick it in a trash bag and stash it in the closet."
Regina rose, slipping the towel from her shoulders and folding it as she watched him head to the storage closet. While he rummaged through for a spare bag, she drifted over to the simmering hot pot. The aroma met her halfway—rich, savory, and thick with caramelized onions, seared beef, and the warmth of autumn spices. Her stomach gave a quiet growl. It wouldn't be ready until ten, but it already smelled like something out of a memory she never had.
A soft whirrr caught her attention. She turned to see Jareth now holding a compact black-and-blue vacuum, already working his way over the floor where the shorter strands of her hair had fallen during his evening touch-ups. He said nothing as he focused, letting the hum of the machine fill the space. Regina couldn't help but smile as she watched him—so capable, so thoughtful in the quietest ways.
She returned to the bed and sat down, fingers lightly brushing the comforter. Her eyes followed him as he clicked the vacuum off, coiled the cord, and returned it to its proper place inside the same closet. As he shut the door and turned, their eyes met.
He walked toward her, sat down beside her on the edge of the bed, and with a theatrical groan, let himself fall back across the mattress. "What a night," he muttered, one arm over his face. "Starving... but what a night. Don't you agree?"
Regina nodded slowly. "Yeah..." Her cheeks flushed again as she looked down at her lap. Jareth peeked at her from under his arm, caught the redness in her face, and smirked.
"There's room for you, you know," he said with an exaggerated shrug. "We're gonna share this bed tonight."
Her eyes widened instantly. "J-Jareth...!" She quickly covered her face with both hands.
Jareth burst out laughing. "Not like that," he assured her quickly, sitting up just enough to nudge her shoulder with his. "I'd never force you, Regina. Just to sleep. Promise."
She peeked at him between her fingers, still red, but a smile crept in anyway. His tone was so casual, so genuine—it settled the nerves fluttering in her chest like anxious butterflies. For some reason... she believed him. Completely.
And maybe that's why her heart wouldn't stop fluttering.
Notes:
There will be two more chapters covering the past ^^
Chapter 19
Notes:
(( Warning: Sexual scene in beging of the chapter between Regina and Jareth.
Note: Check out my profile on my polls. there is a Post where I posted on my own Quirk era timeline.))
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Jareth walked toward her, sat down beside her on the edge of the bed, and with a theatrical groan, let himself fall back across the mattress. "What a night," he muttered, one arm over his face. "Starving... but what a night. Don't you agree?"
Regina nodded slowly. "Yeah..." Her cheeks flushed again as she looked down at her lap. Jareth peeked at her from under his arm, caught the redness in her face, and smirked.
"There's room for you, you know," he said with an exaggerated shrug. "We're gonna share this bed tonight."
Her eyes widened instantly. "J-Jareth...!" She quickly covered her face with both hands.
Jareth burst out laughing. "Not like that," he assured her quickly, sitting up just enough to nudge her shoulder with his. "I'd never force you, Regina. Just to sleep. Promise."
She peeked at him between her fingers, still red, but a smile crept in anyway. His tone was so casual, so genuine—it settled the nerves fluttering in her chest like anxious butterflies. For some reason... she believed him. Completely.
And maybe that's why her heart wouldn't stop fluttering.
Regina tucked a strand of freshly cut hair behind her ear, her fingers still fidgeting with the silky pajama sleeves. She shifted slightly, unsure at first... but then leaned over and crawled onto the bed beside him, careful not to disturb the blankets too much. Her voice came quiet, almost like a whisper carried on the wind.
"You're warm..."
Jareth glanced over, one eyebrow rising. "You're cold?"
She shook her head, her voice still soft. "No... I just... it's comforting."
That answer silenced him for a moment.
Jareth watched her as she settled in beside him, their shoulders almost touching. She had turned to lie on her side, facing away, her posture guarded but relaxed. He laid there on his back, staring at the ceiling—thinking. The fan's low hum stirred the air around them, and outside the tower's stone walls, the October wind howled faintly.
After a long silence, he spoke again—his voice barely louder than a breath.
"Regina..."
She hesitated, then rolled to face him again, emerald eyes meeting his. "Yeah?"
He hesitated. "Thank you... for trusting me. I know how hard this must be. Running away. Leaving everything."
Regina swallowed. Her fingers curled lightly into the comforter between them. "I don't trust easily anymore. But you... from the moment I met you, I felt like I could breathe again."
The tension in his chest tightened—pleasant and aching all at once.
"You don't have to say anything," she added quickly. "I just... wanted you to know."
Jareth turned onto his side then, finally closing the space between them—not enough to touch, but close enough that the warmth of her skin reached him. The soft scent of her lavender body wash lingered in the air, mingling with the savory aroma of the stew still cooking.
"I wanted you to know something too," he murmured. "If you asked me to walk through hell for you... I would."
Their eyes locked.
Regina blinked. Her cheeks flushed deeper, but her voice didn't tremble. "Even if I just asked you to stay right here?"
He smiled. "Especially if you asked that. And even if you asked me to help you overthrow your... father, I would. A man like that shouldn't be calling himself a father—or even a king."
Regina's expression softened, her eyes glimmering in the dim light. She reached out slowly, her small hand finding its way to his chest. Her touch was light, tentative, but there was strength behind it. Her fingers rested against the soft fabric of his hoodie, the warmth of his body pulsing beneath it.
"Thank you..." she whispered, her voice no louder than a breath.
Jareth's gaze never left hers. His hand moved gently, brushing a few damp strands of her hair back as he cupped her cheek with care. His thumb traced lightly along the edge of her jaw, just enough to ground her in the moment.
"May I kiss you for the second time...?" he asked softly, his tone low and reverent—not demanding, not teasing, but asking in earnest.
Regina blinked, caught for a heartbeat in the tenderness of his voice. Her heart fluttered wildly, but the answer came clear and certain. She gave a small nod.
Jareth leaned in—slowly, carefully, as though afraid the moment might shatter if he moved too fast. Their noses brushed faintly first. His hand remained cradling her face, the other resting near her hip atop the blanket, but never tightening. Then finally, their lips met.
The kiss was soft, patient, and warm.
It wasn't rushed. It wasn't fierce or needy. It was something far deeper—an unspoken promise exchanged in silence. Jareth tilted his head just slightly, deepening it only a little, but enough to feel her breath hitch against him. She responded with equal care, her fingers curling lightly into the fabric of his hoodie as if to anchor herself.
When they finally pulled apart, their foreheads lingered together, breaths mingling in the quiet space between them.
"Mhmm amazing the first time I kissed you..." Jareth murmured.
Regina gave a shy smile. "you didn't even ask the first time just leaned in and kissed me."
"Yeah I know but this time," he whispered. "I wanted it to be real."
She brushed her thumb along his collarbone, the fabric cool under her touch. "It is."
Something in Jareth unraveled at those words. That quiet affirmation—so simple, yet so filled with trust—hit deeper than he expected. And before he could even think to stop himself, he moved.
Gently, he shifted, rolling them over until he hovered above her, one hand planted beside her head, the other still cradling her cheek. The mattress creaked softly beneath the change in weight.
Regina gasped quietly, caught off guard, her eyes wide with surprise. But she didn't look afraid—just startled. Her cheeks bloomed with warmth as her breath caught in her throat. The soft light painted her skin in golden hues, and her short, newly cropped hair spread out around her like a velvet halo on the dark pillowcase.
Jareth stared down at her, his heart pounding. The sight of her like this—trusting, flushed, stunning—nearly stole the air from his lungs.
"I—" he began, voice low, shaky. "Tell me no... if you want me to stop. I know we're still young, I know we're just figuring this out, but—"
Her hands came up, soft and warm as they framed his face. He stilled, his words frozen mid-breath as she touched him.
"I... don't want to stop," she whispered, voice trembling—not with fear, but with the weight of her own feelings. "Not right now."
Jareth's expression shifted. The want in his chest was real—undeniable—but what moved him more than anything was the way she looked at him. Like he mattered. Like she chose him, not just for comfort, but because she saw him.
Still leaning above her, he exhaled slowly, grounding himself. His forehead came to rest gently against hers, eyes closing.
"Then we take it slow," he murmured. "Together. Just this. Just us. No expectations."
Regina nodded beneath him, her hands still cupping his jaw, fingers brushing softly over his ears. "Just us."
When his lips found hers a second time, the kiss was deeper, sweeter. Regina breathed in, the scent of pine filling her senses, and she could feel her heart pounding, but she didn't fear. The warmth of him surrounded her, chased away the cold that had gripped her chest for so long, and suddenly she understood. Her hands went up and run them through his snowy white hair.
He groaned and leaned into the touch, and suddenly, his tongue was seeking entrance, asking her for permission. She granted it and opened her mouth, allowing him to explore.
They parted, panting, and Jareth began a slow trail of kisses along her jaw. Regina shivered beneath him, her hands slipping under his pajama shirt, sliding along the hot skin of his sides and stomach, then back up, pushing the garment higher.
Jareth paused and sat up enough to remove his shirt completely. He tossed it aside and settled back between her thighs, his arms framing her head as his mouth found hers again.
This kiss was heated. Desperate.
A new kind of warmth bloomed in her core as she pressed herself closer to him, feeling his heart beating hard against her own. She tugged him tighter, fingers running along his spine. He then leaned on his warm and reached over with his right hand and started to up bottom her silk sage green pajama top.
His palm was soft and gentle as it slid along her exposed abdomen, leaving a trail of heat wherever it touched. He pulled away from her mouth and began to kiss down her neck, her shoulder, his lips soft and tender.
She shuddered and moaned softly, and when his fingers slipped under the waistband of her pajama bottoms, she lifted her hips and allowed him to remove them. He removed them and tosses them right next to the mattress. Then her hands went to his slim but slightly muscular, perfect. Average for a fifteen-year-old. His pale Milky skin was something else. Fit perfectly with his snowy white hair, turquoise blue eyes. He was looked like a Disney prince that just stepped out of a story. Jareth raised an eyebrow but smirks softly at her. His hands moved to his own pajama bottoms and pulled them down revealing his black boxer briefs that had blue flames on them.
Regina flushed "Fitting since your quirk is Blue Flames..." Jareth chuckles "Yeah."
She looked away shyly, and Jareth paused, giving her space, his hand resting on her hip. "Hey," he said softly, "we don't have to go further. I just... really want to touch you."
She glanced up at him, a smile spreading across her face. She reached down and took his hand in hers, guiding it to the inside of her thigh. "I've already made up my mind Jareth... I want this... you..." Jareth stares at her "Mhmm if a Princess asks me to take her first time, well then."
Regina pouts at him. "What? I'm just teasing." He leans and kisses her deeply.
She gasped softly against his lips as his hand cupped her most intimate place. She could feel his fingertips rubbing her, and it wasn't long before they slipped past her panties and brushed her sensitive core.
Jareth groaned against her neck, his body shuddering with the effort it took to stay calm and keep things slow. "You shave or something...?"
Regina shook her head "used my quirk to stop growing unwanted body hair..."
Jareth hums "Kinese, one of the most powerful quirks almost like a powers of a witch or sorceress."
"Yeah," she managed, her breath catching in her throat.
He chuckled and continued his work, fingers exploring and teasing her, making her hips shift and buck. Then he leaned down, pressed a soft kiss against her hipbone, and tugged her panties off. She kicked them away, suddenly eager, and opened her legs, blushing hotly.
"Don't be embarrassed," he murmured. "You're beautiful, Regina."
Regina smiled shyly, then reached for his hand, guiding him back between her legs. She didn't have to ask—his fingers resumed their slow exploration, rubbing her in circles, making her breath come faster and sharper. When he slipped a finger inside her, she shuddered, her legs shaking, and let out a gasp that was half a moan.
Jareth leaned down and captured her lips again, his tongue delving into her mouth, and the intensity of his kisses nearly distracted her from the way his fingers curled inside her, pressing and stretching her. The new sensations left her dizzy, clinging to him for stability.
He moved his fingers steadily, his touch alternating between soft and gentle and hard and fast, until she couldn't focus on anything else but him, the way his fingers moved, was so good.
When the pleasure built into a wave of heat and release, she clung to him, burying her face against his neck as she came. His free arm held her tight, and he didn't stop until the wave finally broke and she slumped back against the bed.
"How was that...?" he asked, his voice hoarse, his expression dazed, awestruck.
Regina with a flushed face and shaking and breathing soflty "feels good..."
Jareth chuckles and sits up, his finger was curled on his boxer's brief "Regina..." Regina blinked at him and smiles softly "Still not telling you to stop.. wait... do you have..."
Jareth raised an eyebrow and shook his head "I wasn't expecting us to actually to have sex... you don't' mind do you...? we are both each other's first..."
Regina sighs and shrugs "well at least I'll have someone I know and love... not a stranger and I'll remember it."
Jareth smiles at her "good." He pulls down his pajama bottoms to show his hard on. 5.8 Inches and thick, average for teenage boy of Fifteen. Jareth kicks off his boxers and leans down kissing her tummy making her hum softly. He as to make her wet enough to ease his way in so it won't hurt. He kissed his way lower, until his mouth was level with her pussy. He licked his lips, and his tongue darted out, brushing her gently.
Regina jolted, and her hands flew to his hair, holding tight. "Oh god!"
He grinned and did it again, a little more confident this time. She squirmed beneath him, and he grabbed her thighs, spreading her wider, opening her up. Her hips arched, and he licked again, harder, his tongue probing and tasting her.
The sensations were strange, new, but her body responded easily, the pleasure building and pooling between her thighs. She rocked her hips into his mouth, unable to help herself.
"J-Jareth, please, oh my god, yes," she babbled, the words spilling out before she could even think about what she was saying.
He was merciless, his tongue stroking and curling against her, his mouth hot and wet and eager. His fingers dug into her skin, keeping her close, holding her down. He devoured her, his teeth and tongue driving her wild. She moaned, softly.
She could feel herself getting close. "Please," she gasped, "Jareth, I—!"
She couldn't finish her sentence. The waves crashed over her, her back arching and her eyes squeezing shut. Her hips jerked, and her legs trembled. Jareth pulled away, his lips slick with her arousal. His breath came fast and heavily, and his pupils were blown wide with desire.
"Do you trust me...?" he asked, his voice low and husky.
She nodded, not even hesitating.
"And do you want me...?"
"Yes," she said, the word coming out almost like a sob.
"I'll make this good for you," he promised. "Just breathe."
He leaned forward, supporting himself on his hands, and positioned himself at her entrance. Rubbing himself against her wet folds. He then pressed his hips forward, and Regina bit her lip to hold back a gasp.
"Just relax," he murmured. "Let me in."
His voice was soft and soothing, and his eyes never left hers. His gaze was steady and warm. She breathed in slowly, letting her body adjust. Jareth didn't rush. He gave her time, letting her get used to the new sensation.
"How do you feel?" he asked.
She smiled weakly, her cheeks flushed. "I feel... full."
He chuckled, his voice rough. "You feel amazing."
Her heart fluttered at the praise. She reached up, her hands curling around his shoulders.
"Ready...?"
She nodded.
He pushed in, his cock stretching her. Her inner walls clenched tight, and she winced, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip. He moved slowly, carefully, and his body trembled, as if holding himself back was an effort.
"Relax," he murmured, his lips brushing her cheek. "You're so beautiful, Regina. You're amazing."
His words washed over her, and the pain eased, replaced by a tingling heat. She exhaled, letting herself relax. He slid in a little deeper, and the pressure became almost unbearable. She clutched his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin.
"Don't stop," she gasped. "Don't—!"
He kissed her, silencing her, and his tongue swept into her mouth. She groaned and wrapped her legs around him, drawing him deeper. He thrust into her, and her entire body quivered.
The pleasure was intense. She couldn't hold back her moans.
"Please," she whimpered.
"Tell me what you want," he murmured, his voice strained. "Tell me, my lovely Princess."
"I want—oh god, Jareth, make me yours. No one else...! my handsome knight to be...."
She couldn't think. Her head was spinning. All she could do was feel. She wanted him.
His hands tightened around her hips, and he thrust hard. Her body jerked, and her eyes rolled back. He fucked her hard and fast, and his moans echoed hers.
"You're mine," he growled, his voice deep and husky. "And I'm yours. I won't let anyone else touch you." his quirk was achieving, his blue flames wrapped around them like blue ribbons. It wasn't hot and it was luke warm.
"Only you," she whispered.
He kissed her again, his tongue plunging into her mouth. His movements grew desperate, his rhythm ragged. His hips snapped against hers, and she moaned into his mouth.
"Jareth," she gasped.
He pulled away, and his lips found her neck, kissing and nipping at her sensitive skin. She writhed beneath him, her body moving instinctively. Holding on to him as his thrusting became so fast causing her cumming again. He was so close, so close. "I'm gonna cum... Regina... Can I..." "Yes.. in me..." Regina moans in such pleasure.
"Fuck," he hissed.
"Please," she moaned. "Jareth, please."
He drove into her, his whole-body trembling. His grip tightened, his fingers digging into her skin. Then he came, his body shuddering as he emptied himself inside her. She held him close, her heart pounding. They lay together, gasping for breath.
He pulled out of her, and she winced slightly. "Are you alright?" he asked, concern written across his face. he see's the slight blood.
She nodded, smiling. "Amazing. You?"
He laughed softly. "I feel amazing too."
They settled back onto the bed, lying close beside one another, their bodies still humming from the intensity of what they'd shared. Outside, the soft patter of sudden October rain tapped against the tall arched windows, a gentle rhythm to match the slowing beat of their hearts. But inside this forgotten tower, wrapped in each other's warmth, the chill never reached them.
"That was incredible," Regina whispered, her voice barely above a breath.
Jareth smiled, brushing a strand of her damp hair from her face. "Yeah... you were amazing."
Silence fell between them, but it was peaceful comforting. Then Regina reached out, her fingers gently brushing his cheek.
"Jareth," she said softly, her emerald eyes shining. "You're my prince."
He chuckled quietly, his hand finding hers. "Yeah? I mean—I may be a noble, son of a Viscount, heir to a line of ambassadors—but hearing you say that? Makes me feel like more than just a name."
"We don't need titles," she murmured, leaning her head against his chest. "We just have to be here. Together."
Jareth let his arm curl around her shoulders, pulling her close. He closed his eyes, breathing her in—her scent, her warmth, her presence.
"Always," he whispered, pressing a kiss to her hair. "My Princess."
Regina nestled against him, a soft, content smile playing on her lips as the rain whispered against the stone tower around them. For the first time in a long time... she felt safe. Wanted. Loved.
"I guess we'll have to clean these sheets," Jareth muttered, stretching as he sat up and reached for his pajama bottoms. "Can't exactly sleep in them tonight. We've still got a bit of time before dinner's done anyway."
Regina smiled softly, nodding in agreement as she slipped out of bed and gathered her sage green pajamas from where they'd been folded neatly on the chair. "Do you have a way to do laundry up here...?"
Jareth chuckled as he pulled on his shirt. "Yeah—portable washer and dryer. Apartment-friendly stuff, but for my tower? It's perfect. Makes the whole place smell like fresh linen." He stepped over to the closet and grabbed a laundry bag. "It's in a room just below the bathroom. Used to be a storage closet, but I rewired it last year. Works great."
They made their way down the narrow spiral steps just beneath the bathroom, Regina following close behind as Jareth led her into a small, stone-walled room. The moment she stepped inside, she paused, eyes slowly widening.
It was nothing like she expected.
The space felt like a quaint little cottage nook hidden away from time. The thick, weathered stone walls glowed softly under recessed lights, accented by the exposed wooden beams above. A narrow window, tucked beneath the ceiling's slope, let in the faintest blue-gray light from the storm outside. The air carried a comforting scent—lavender, detergent, and the subtle crispness of October rain. Warm, herringbone wood flooring creaked softly beneath their bare feet, and baskets filled with folded towels and extra linens sat neatly by the walls.
But what caught her attention was the contrast—a sleek white portable washer and dryer set standing side by side against the far wall, stacked within a custom frame. They looked almost futuristic in the old-world setting. The washer's clear lid reflected the soft light as Jareth knelt to hook up the long hose, threading it carefully through the space and up toward the bathroom sink.
"That hole," he explained with a thumb toward the wall behind the washer, "leads to a drain basin I rigged below the floor. Nothing fancy, but it works."
Regina wandered closer, brushing her fingers along the edge of the dryer. "You really built all this in?"
Jareth gave a crooked grin as he twisted the hose cap into place. "Yeah. This used to be a closet—back when the tower was still part of the main wing. I needed somewhere that smelled like clean linen and not just old books and dust."
She knelt near the woven basket they'd brought down, carefully folding the used sheets inside before loading them into the washer. "It's... really cozy down here," she said softly. "Warm, even."
Jareth stood and leaned his shoulder against the stone wall beside her, watching the water fill with a soft hiss. "I like hearing it run," he murmured. "Makes the place feel less lonely."
The washer began to hum, its rhythmic swish blending into the patter of rain against the small window above. Regina looked over at him, her newly trimmed hair still tousled from there passionate moment. A quiet smile tugged at her lips as she hugged her arms around herself.
He met her gaze and smiled back, softer this time. "Even towers need a heartbeat."
__________
Inside the lower labs of the palace, sterile lights hummed quietly above polished white floors, illuminating rows of futuristic medical pods. Green stasis fluid pulsed softly inside each one, casting an eerie glow against the glass walls.
King Stephone stepped into the chamber, his heavy cape trailing behind him like a shadow. The guards at the door saluted stiffly before sealing the entrance. Doctor Adam, hunched over a tablet near the central tank, looked up with a start.
"Y-Your Majesty! What a surprise visit!"
Stephone didn't reply. His piercing eyes were already fixed on the main pod—where a teenage boy floated in suspension, hooked to dozens of tubes and biometric sensors.
"How is my new body progressing?" the King asked, voice low and cold.
Doctor Adam stepped closer, tapping the display screen beside the chamber. "He's responding well to the conditioning. Completely quirkless—just as you requested. A blank slate. No history, no identity, no resistance."
Stephone sneered, his gloved hand resting on the smooth glass of the pod. "Perfect. A shell. And once the transfer is complete, she won't be able to resist my order in marring this called noble."
Doctor Adam cleared his throat. "Yes, about that. We've finalized the quirk transfer sequence—but the soul imprinting... it's unstable. That's why I brought in help."
He turned his head. "Zen! Step forward."
A young boy—barely sixteen, with sharp eyes and a quiet, wary demeanor—approached from the shadows. His pale hair was slightly tousled, and there was a hint of unease in his movements.
"Your Majesty," Adam said with a proud gesture, "meet Zen Shigaraki. He's from Japan. Comes from... interesting bloodlines. But most importantly—he's experienced with the metaphysical. Soul quirks. He understands what you need."
Stephone's eyes flicked over the boy, calculating. "You will help me transfer not just my quirk... but my essence. My soul. Into this vessel."
Zen nodded slowly. "If the conditions are right... yes. I can help make that happen."
The King's expression twisted into something both pleased and hungry. He looked back toward the pod—toward the body that would one day house his spirit.
"She will not run from me again. My little treasure. My perfect daughter."
Zen watched the door slide shut behind King Stephone, and the moment it sealed, he exhaled through his nose, his expression curling with disdain.
"What a disgusting man..."
Adam, still seated at the nearby console, chuckled. "We don't have much choice but to follow his so-called commands. So—are you really going through with it, or just humoring him?"
Zen smirked. "Oh, I'll do it. Then I'll kill him... and take the Princess for myself."
Adam tilted his head, eyeing him with wary amusement. "You? Suddenly going after a kingdom? And the heir, no less? That doesn't sound like your usual game. You planning to take her quirk too?"
Zen's grin deepened, his eyes cold and sharp.
"Of course. I'll take everything from her—her quirk, her will, her freedom. She'll be my second most prized possession..." He lowered his voice to a venomous whisper. "Right after Yoichi—my dear little brother."
Adam leaned back with a slow sigh. "And what then? You going to keep the kingdom? Make her your queen? Celtica's not just some forgotten monarchy—it's one of the most powerful in the world."
Zen's gaze narrowed as he stepped forward, voice dripping with malice.
"Oh, I intend to make her mine in every way. Her quirk, it will be mine. And so will she. Even this Kingdom, it will all be mine."
He glanced over his shoulder.
"Don't forget, Adam. You work for me. Not that delusional king."
It was now 9:45pm. The low hum of rain still tapped against the tower windows, but inside the cozy bedroom, the warmth and scent of dinner wrapped the space in quiet comfort. Jareth moved between the kitchenette and the bed, carefully ladling the steaming stew into two ceramic bowls. The deep aroma of caramelized onions, rich broth, and tender beef filled the air, accented by a sprinkle of freshly chopped herbs and shaved cheese on top.
The bed was freshly made, the once-soiled sheets now clean and neatly tucked in. He'd even fluffed the pillows, a touch of pride showing on his face as he glanced over his shoulder.
In front of the bed sat the small round night table he'd moved from in front of the couch. It was just the right height for their late dinner, and he set the bowls down along with two spoons and a folded cloth napkin.
Regina sat cross-legged on the bed, wearing her sage silk pajamas, her cheeks lightly flushed from the cozy warmth of the room. Her eyes lit up the moment the bowl was placed before her, and she leaned in eagerly, taking a deep breath.
"It smells amazing," she whispered, clearly excited.
Jareth chuckled, setting down his own bowl and sliding in beside her on the bed. "It's my mother's recipe," he said, picking up his spoon. "Only made when the October winds finally roll in."
Regina picked up her spoon carefully, blowing on it before taking her first bite. The second it hit her tongue, her eyes widened in delight.
"Mmm! Jareth, this is incredible!"
He grinned, watching her reaction with a spark of pride in his eyes. "Told you I could cook."
Regina giggled softly, her voice hushed as though not to disturb the perfect moment between them. "You're full of surprises."
They sat together, legs touching, bowls in hand, sharing quiet laughter and warm spoonful's of stew as the rain whispered against the glass and the night wrapped around the tower like a cocoon.
_______
The golden morning light crept in through the stained-glass panels high on the palace walls, casting warm amber hues across the marble floors of the royal wing. Lord Jonah Ravena stormed through the hall. His face was grim, jaw set tight, fury simmering just beneath the surface.
As he reached the ornate door to his son's private quarters, he stopped, hand resting on the handle. His gaze darkened at the memory of the words Jareth had thrown at him the night before:
"You, the king, and the rest of Parliament... you all disgust me," Jareth had said—quietly, but with a rage so fierce it rattled Jonah more than he'd let on. "Mother would be ashamed of what you're doing."
The words lingered like smoke in his chest.
Taking a steady breath, Jonah knocked firmly on the door. "Jareth? Are you awake?"
Silence.
He frowned, listening. No rustle of fabric, no muttered reply. Not even the sound of movement beyond the door.
Did he already leave for training?
Grumbling under his breath, Jonah twisted the handle and stepped inside. The door opened with a soft creak, revealing... nothing.
The bed was untouched. The sheets were still perfectly made, not a single pillow dented. The rug bore no impressions, and the fireplace hadn't been lit. It was as if no one had slept there at all.
Jonah's frown deepened. He scanned the room again, more sharply this time. Not a single sign of his son's presence—no discarded boots, no worn jacket, not even a training saber left behind in the usual careless way.
Footsteps clicked lightly behind him. He turned to see a cluster of maids hesitating at the doorway, wide-eyed at his sudden presence.
"My lord," one of them asked timidly, "is something the matter?"
Jonah's gaze hardened. "Where is my son?"
The question hung in the air, heavy and demanding—because if Jareth wasn't here, then something was very, very wrong.
_____
The soft glow of sunrise bathed the narrow cobblestone streets of the royal capital in a golden light. Morning dew clung to the worn bricks and rooftops, and the city was just beginning to stir. The usual bustle of carriages, vendors, and noble foot traffic was still quiet—giving the world a rare moment of peace.
Jareth and Regina walked hand in hand through the hushed alleyways, both clad in dark hooded jackets that concealed their identities. Regina's hood cast a shadow over her face, but her eyes still gleamed with determination—and a hint of nervous excitement. Jareth, walking slightly ahead to shield her from view, kept his expression neutral, but the grip he held on her hand was firm and reassuring.
Neither of them spoke.
There was a quiet intimacy in the silence, the kind born not from awkwardness, but from trust. Every so often, Regina glanced up at him. The soft morning wind ruffled his white hair as he led them through familiar backstreets only he, a native of the capital, would know. His backpack bounced gently with each step, filled with essentials and false documents they'd need to pass through the outer security posts.
They were headed to a private airfield just beyond the noble quarter—an isolated company his cousin operated discreetly. Jareth had called in a favor last night. His cousin wouldn't ask questions. Just get them to Ireland.
From there, they would reach the international teleportation gate and be on their way to Grivida—where they'd be safe. Where Regina could disappear from the grip of her father forever.
Regina's fingers tightened around his as they passed a pair of patrolling guards. She lowered her head. Jareth subtly shifted between her and the soldiers, his expression cool and unaffected. The guards didn't even spare them a second glance.
Once they passed, Regina let out a slow breath she hadn't realized she was holding.
"We're almost there," Jareth murmured softly, glancing down at her. "You okay?"
She nodded. "Yeah... just nervous. It doesn't feel real yet."
Jareth's gaze softened. He squeezed her hand gently, thumb brushing her knuckles. "It will. Once we're in the air, you'll breathe easier. I promise."
She gave him a small smile—tired, hopeful, but genuine.
They continued through the quiet city, two shadows cloaked in morning light, leaving behind a world that had caged them both for far too long.
The sun had just begun to crest the rooftops of the Royal Capital, its golden light slanting down the narrow streets and gilding the city in a soft, sleepy glow. The air still held the faint chill of early morning, but Jareth and Regina walked with steady purpose, their hoods up, hands clasped tightly together. Every so often, Jareth would glance at her—his gaze protective, resolute—while Regina kept her eyes forward, clutching her bag with quiet tension. Despite the disguise, despite the plan, there was still a tremor of nerves beneath her calm exterior. She wasn't just sneaking out of a palace—she was running from an empire, from a fate that had nearly consumed her.
The modern glass structure of the private jet company stood at the edge of the district like a gleaming jewel—polished, professional, and already humming with quiet life. Jets were being prepped outside the hangars, a few early workers moving about the tarmac. Regina exhaled slowly as they stepped inside. The contrast between the cold steel of power and the warmth of escape was palpable.
Inside the lobby, the atmosphere was sleek and high-end, with pristine marble floors, ambient lighting, and a hushed, professional quiet that made their arrival feel heavier. Behind the reception desk sat a woman of about sixty with short gray curls and thin-framed glasses, diligently typing into a terminal. Her eyes flicked up at the sound of their footsteps.
"Good morning. How can I help you? Do you have a booking with us to—" She stopped mid-sentence, squinting slightly at Jareth. Then her expression shifted entirely.
"Wait... Lord Jareth? Is that really you?" she asked, standing in disbelief. Her face softened with nostalgic familiarity. "Oh my, you've grown up so much. Are you here to see your cousin? He's prepping the next private flight. Busy as ever, that one."
Jareth offered her a boyish grin and leaned casually against the counter, his voice light but charming. "Yeah, I figured as much. Could you page him for me? Just let him know me and my girl are on our way up to his office."
The woman nodded automatically, but her gaze had already shifted, drifting toward the hooded figure standing at Jareth's side. She blinked slowly, her brow furrowing as she studied the girl. There was something familiar about her... the delicate bone structure, the regal bearing despite the casual clothes, the aura of someone used to walking among marble columns and chandeliers. She looks like the Princess... but her hair... it's short...
Her lips parted slightly as if to speak, but Jareth moved quickly. He stepped in front of Regina with a subtle shift of his body and dropped his voice to a low, firm whisper.
"Miss Leah... please keep this quiet."
The woman froze, caught between curiosity and loyalty. But after a long moment, she gave a quiet nod.
"Of course, my lord. I'll page him now."
Jareth gave her a grateful glance before turning to Regina, taking her hand again. "Come on, babe."
Regina met his eyes, her heart fluttering at how natural he made this feel—even amidst the fear—and nodded. Together, they moved down the side corridor, past framed portraits of old aircraft and hushed waiting lounges, until they reached a polished wooden door with a brass plaque that read: Captain Jake Ravena – first class Charter Pilot.
Without hesitation, Jareth pushed it open.
"Yo! Cuz!" he called, his tone playful, almost teasing—an effort to lighten the weight in the air.
Jake was at his desk, surrounded by flight logs and briefing papers. His head snapped up at the sound of Jareth's voice, his pale-blue eyes locking on his cousin with disbelief.
"Jareth?" he said, standing quickly. "You call me in the middle of the night saying you need to disappear with the princess, and now—" His gaze shifted, landing on the girl beside Jareth.
Regina had pulled her hood back slightly. Her face was unmistakable.
Jake's mouth opened, but instead of questions, he immediately bowed his head with practiced formality.
"Your Highness."
Jareth groaned, exasperated, dragging a hand through his silver-streaked hair. "Come on, Jake. Can we not do the whole royal routine right now? Please? We don't have time for it. This is serious."
Jake slowly straightened, his brows drawn tight with concern. "I figured that much, considering the magnitude of the favor you're asking."
His gaze shifted back and forth between the two of them. "Tell me everything. Quickly."
Jareth exhaled deeply, the tension in his jaw sharp as stone. "Jake, what I'm about to say... you have to keep it between us. Not just for my sake—for hers."
Jake frowned, his posture tense. "You're scaring me, Jareth."
"You should be scared," he said, stepping aside so Regina could sit on the couch. She looked exhausted, her short hair still damp from the morning air, but she held herself upright, regal despite everything. "This isn't some teenage rebellion, or a royal tantrum. It's worse. Far worse."
He turned his gaze back to Jake, eyes hard.
"The King... he doesn't see Regina as his daughter anymore. I don't even think he ever did. To him, she's not a child. She's his possession. His treasure. He's obsessed with her—protective on the surface, but controlling and twisted underneath. She overheard him talking about legacy, bloodline continuity, heirs... forcing her into a political union. She thought he was going to marry her off to someone powerful."
Jake's eyes widened, but Jareth wasn't done.
"I think it's worse than that," Jareth muttered. "At the Ball last night I've heard the way he talks about her. It's not fatherly, Jake. It's possessive. Borderline deranged."
Jake paled. "You're saying he wants to keep her—for himself?"
Regina's voice cracked. "He said... the parliament that it's not outlawed, he will take me as his queen. On paper its to some unknown noble but in reality its him.."
Jareth stepped in again, fury in his voice. "He treats her like she's a damn artifact. A priceless relic only he can own. I don't know the full extent of his plan—only when the princess told me she overheard... She was right to run. If we don't get her out of Celtica now, she won't just be married off... she'll become a prisoner."
Jake stood frozen behind his desk, his hands clenched as he tried to process the weight of Jareth's words. Silence hung in the air for a long moment, thick with disbelief. Then, finally, Jake asked, voice low but tense, "And you're really willing to throw away everything for her?"
Jareth didn't even blink. His jaw was tight, his voice calm but fiery with conviction. "Yes. I'd burn my entire life to the ground if it meant keeping her safe. You weren't there, Jake. You didn't hear the way the King spoke—like she was a prize to be bred, a pawn to play with. And my father... he was there. He said nothing. He agreed to it."
Jake's expression twisted in visible disgust, his shoulders tensing. "Your dad went along with that? Seriously? Damn it, Jareth... Auntie would be horrified. She raised you better than this kingdom ever deserved."
"I know," Jareth said quietly. "And that's why I'm getting her out."
A heavy silence passed between them before Jake finally exhaled through his nose and grabbed his pilot jacket off the coat rack, snatching his hat on the way. "Alright. Let's go, then. If you're both this committed, I won't stop you."
Regina gave a soft, grateful smile, clinging to Jareth's hand as Jake led them through the terminal. The sun had barely cleared the horizon, bathing the tarmac in gold as they stepped outside. A sleek electric golf cart waited near the curb, its engine humming faintly.
"Hop in," Jake instructed, sliding into the driver's seat of the golf cart with practiced ease. His voice was low, but steady, as if trying to process the weight of what he was helping them do. "We'll take a ride over to my hangar. I already prepped the jet last night. It's fueled, stocked, ready to go. You've got a clear flight path to Donegal Airport."
Without hesitation, Jareth helped Regina into the passenger side, his hand steady at her back. Once she was seated, he climbed in beside her and instinctively reached for her hand. Their fingers wove together naturally, a silent tether grounding them both. As the cart began to hum across the smooth tarmac, the wind swept through the open sides, tugging gently at their hoods.
For a moment, the chaos of royal politics and impossible stakes faded into the background. They were just two souls escaping a gilded prison, chasing freedom across a dawn-lit runway.
Jake glanced over his shoulder, keeping his eyes on the path ahead but his voice edged with quiet curiosity. "Tell me something—when you get to Ireland... where exactly are you taking her? You never said."
Jareth exhaled slowly, his jaw tense. "Grivida," he answered. "I'm taking her to King Zachariah. The late queen—Lady Felica—was best friends with him. He's the only one I trust to keep her safe."
Jake's brows lifted, impressed. "That's a bold move."
"It's the only one," Jareth said simply, holding Regina's hand just a little tighter. "If we stay here, the king will force her into a marriage. He'll ruin her life just to serve his own twisted legacy. I won't let that happen."
Jake was quiet after that, only the low hum of the engine and the rush of morning air filling the silence as they neared the hangar where the jet awaited.
Jake parked the cart inside the hangar, the electric hum dying down as they rolled to a smooth stop beside the sleek, glinting jet. The hangar was already humming with low mechanical sounds, the jet's systems prepped and humming softly, lights aglow in readiness. The door to the aircraft was already open, the staircase lowered as if waiting just for them.
As the three of them climbed out, the sudden click of heels echoed against the polished concrete. A tall blonde woman in a tailored navy uniform approached from the aircraft, her smile bright and eyes wide with pleasant surprise.
"Jareth! What a lovely surprise!" Amelia, Jake's wife and the jet's flight attendant, greeted warmly as she stepped forward. Her voice was smooth, laced with the professional poise of someone used to greeting high-class passengers—until her gaze landed on Regina.
Jake held up a hand, urgency tightening his features. "No time for greetings, love. Jareth, Your Highness—please, get on board and find your seats. I'll explain everything in due time."
Amelia blinked, confused for a second—until her eyes settled fully on the young woman beside Jareth. Her mouth opened slightly in shock. The resemblance was unmistakable now that she was seeing her up close, even with the shorter hair.
"Highness...?" Amelia repeated softly, a gasp escaping her lips as her eyes went wide. "Wait—Princess...? Is that really...?"
Regina gave a small, sheepish nod, her posture a bit tense under the scrutiny but still dignified. "Yes. But... please, no bowing. Not now."
Amelia's hand instinctively covered her mouth as realization struck, but she composed herself quickly. The gravity of the situation settled in her eyes even as she stepped aside to allow them passage. "Of course, Your Highness. Right this way."
Jareth gently guided Regina forward, hand resting protectively at the small of her back. Though the world outside this hangar remained full of threats and uncertain futures, in that moment, surrounded by people he trusted, Jareth's resolve only strengthened.
Jake climbed the stairs behind them, already slipping into his pilot's mindset. The flight wasn't just a favor anymore—it was a mission. A desperate escape for something far bigger than just politics or power. They were running from something far darker, something no one outside Celtica could yet imagine. And as Amelia followed them up, locking the cabin behind her, the engines began to warm for takeoff.
The moment Regina stepped into the jet, the change in atmosphere was immediate. The insulated silence of the cabin wrapped around her like a cocoon, muting the world outside. Warm recessed lighting lined the gently curved ceiling, casting a soft, golden glow across the interior. Cream-colored leather seats with dark gray accents were arranged in pairs along the narrow aisle, flanked by polished, retractable glass-topped tables that gleamed under the lights. Each seat looked like it belonged in a royal salon, with wide armrests, cushioned headrests, and stitching so fine it was practically invisible.
Jareth placed a hand on the overhead panel and guided Regina further in, motioning for her to sit. He made sure she took the window seat, slipping her backpack gently into the nearby storage compartment before sitting down beside her. His hand never left hers.
Across from them, the wide glossy tables were already set with fresh bottled water and folded linen napkins tucked beside polished silverware. Not standard aircraft cutlery—real silver. The kind that told you this plane wasn't built just for travel, but for class and comfort. Small LED sconces dotted the cabin walls, giving everything a peaceful ambiance, the light dancing subtly on the woodgrain paneling along the storage bins and cabinetry. It smelled faintly of cedar polish and citrus, clean and elegant.
Amelia stepped past them, securing the cabin door and engaging the lock. She moved with practiced grace, blonde ponytail swishing as she made her way to the small but stunning galley just ahead of the seating area. The galley was tucked beside the cockpit and gleamed with sleek functionality—glassware glittered in its secure cabinets, a compact microwave nestled above deep drawers filled with neatly arranged cutlery, and a coffee machine purred to life with a soft hum. There were even chilled compartments stocked with bottled drinks, sparkling water, and gourmet snacks. A vase of white roses sat on the counter, next to a folded mint green hand towel. It didn't feel like a private jet—it felt like a floating luxury apartment.
Farther back, down the short corridor past the main lounge area, was the lavatory. Regina had caught a glimpse as they boarded: an immaculate space that defied expectations. The walls were paneled in a dark floral pattern that contrasted beautifully with the sleek white vanity and polished brass fixtures. A vase bursting with sunflowers and lilies added unexpected color beside the basin, and the toilet itself was cleverly hidden in a leather-upholstered seat that folded up like a secret throne.
As the engines began to rumble beneath them, low and steady, Jake's voice came through the overhead speaker from the cockpit.
"Prepare for takeoff. Destination: Donegal Airport, Ireland. Expected flight time: one hour and forty-five minutes. Weather's clear. Buckle in and sit tight."
Regina looked around slowly, visibly stunned by the sheer elegance around her. "This is very nice private het," she whispered, fingers grazing the smooth table beside her. "It's like a nice condo... in the sky."
Jareth smiled, but his expression was shadowed. "Only the best. My cousin Jake flies for Nobels, politicians, and billionaires."
Regina's gaze flicked toward the cockpit, then back to Jareth. "And now it's flying two fugitives."
He reached over, gently tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. "No. It's flying us toward freedom."
Notes:
((Next chapter will be the longest ever because I wanna pack it all in one chapter, then it ill be back to the present.))
Chapter 20
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The jet’s wheels lifted smoothly from the runway, the engines humming with controlled power as the aircraft climbed into the pale morning sky. Regina and Jareth sat side by side, gazes fixed to the window, watching as the royal capital of Celtica grew smaller beneath them—its spires and rooftops slowly swallowed by clouds.
Neither spoke, but the silence between them was thick with unspoken emotion: grief, fear, disbelief… and just a flicker of fragile hope.
Within minutes, the aircraft leveled out, and the small chime of the seatbelt light switched off, replaced by a gentle green glow above. Then came the familiar, calm voice of Jake over the intercom.
“This is your captain speaking. You’re now free to move about the cabin. Your lovely attendant, whom you’ve already met, will provide anything you two might need. We’re looking at a flight time of a few hours before arrival at Donegal Airport in Ireland. Sit back, relax, and enjoy the ride.”
The soft thrum of the engines became background noise as Amelia emerged from the galley, moving with practiced ease despite the turbulence. Balanced perfectly on a tray were two steaming mugs—porcelain, elegant, with wisps of sweet-smelling steam rising in lazy curls.
“Hot cocoa,” she said with a gentle smile, her voice warm and comforting as she set the mugs on the table in front of them. “For the nerves. You’re safe now. For as long as Jake and I are in the air… you’re family.”
Regina blinked, momentarily stunned by the kindness, before nodding softly in thanks. She wrapped her hands around the warm mug, letting the heat seep into her chilled fingers. The scent—rich chocolate with soft hints of vanilla and melting marshmallows—rose into her lungs and settled somewhere deep inside her, steadying the storm still lingering in her chest.
Jareth watched her quietly, his own mug untouched for now. His thumb brushed against her wrist, grounding her.
They weren’t out of danger. Not yet. But for the first time in what felt like an eternity, something deep within Regina loosened—just a bit.
For this moment… they were safe.
Royal Guard Security Operations Center – Underground Level, Royal Palace
Lord Jonah Ravena stepped into the dimly lit security operations center, the automatic doors sealing shut behind him with a soft hiss. The room was chilled by overpowered ventilation, bathed in an ambient blue glow from the dozens of wall-mounted monitors and curved desktops. High-resolution feeds cycled through surveillance angles of the palace grounds, thermal overlays tracking the night’s residual heat signatures. The air buzzed with quiet concentration — the hum of technology and low murmur of analysts tapping at keyboards.
Jonah cut a sharp silhouette in his tailored black suit — double-stitched shoulders, silver cufflinks, and a subtle lapel pin indicating his rank. His tie was crisp, dark navy against a pressed white shirt, and his polished oxfords clicked against the ceramic floor tiles with precise, purposeful steps. He looked every bit the statesman he was — a man used to power, pressure, and secrets.
One of the night shift officers rose from his station near the central console, a younger man with a hard jawline and alert eyes. “Lord Ravena, thank you for coming,” he said quickly. “I didn’t want to flag this through official channels yet. Not until I was sure.”
“You mentioned the Princess,” Jonah replied, his voice low and clipped. “Show me.”
The officer nodded and gestured to one of the primary terminals. With a few deft keystrokes, he brought up a saved video log — timestamped just past two in the morning. The screen displayed the outer gardens near the west perimeter, swaying shadows cast by the nighttime winds.
For several seconds, the footage showed nothing of note. Then — in an instant — the frame was illuminated by an otherworldly blue blaze.
Jonah’s eyes narrowed.
“Pause,” he ordered.
The screen froze mid-flash — and there it was. Suspended in the moment: a burst of radiant, phoenix-shaped fire, vivid blue and unmistakably shaped by intent, not chance.
Jonah leaned in, his expression hardening. “Jareth.”
The officer gave a slow nod. “I thought it might be him. But there’s more…”
He rewound the footage just a few seconds, then resumed playback at quarter speed. Jonah watched closely. Within the fire — just before it took full flight — was a fleeting glimpse of a second figure. Something caught the light.
“There.” Jonah pointed sharply. “Zoom in on that braid.”
The feed enhanced. It wasn’t crystal clear, but it didn’t need to be. The long, thick braid, deep raspberry-red, swung with movement — tucked against someone’s side as they were lifted into the air.
Jonah's breath hitched. His fingers curled over the edge of the console.
“…Princess Regina.”
The room fell silent except for the hum of the machinery.
“Do we have any other angles?” Jonah asked, voice tight.
“Yes, my lord,” the officer replied, switching to a higher rooftop camera that caught the firebird's trajectory. From this vantage, the blue flame arced across the skyline like a comet — before swooping low toward a mostly forgotten spire.
The tower was tall, partially obscured by tree cover and old ivy. One high window stood wide open — and the flame disappeared into it without a sound.
Jonah frowned, the gears in his mind turning. That structure wasn’t listed on any recent site schematics. It wasn’t outfitted with security sensors. Not even standard patrols went that far west…
“Where is this tower?” he asked flatly.
The officer hesitated. “We… don’t know, sir. It’s not on any of the current blueprints. It shouldn’t even be occupied.”
Jonah’s eyes locked on the image. A hidden tower. An undocumented room. One Jareth could access — and the princess had likely been taken to.
Or went willingly.
He straightened, adjusting the cuffs of his jacket. “No one else sees this footage. Not a word to the other guards. And especially not to the King. Am I clear?”
“Crystal, my lord,” the officer said immediately, standing at attention.
Without another word, Jonah turned and exited through the side corridor, his mind racing. There was only one person still alive who might have access to the old layouts — someone whose knowledge of the palace stretched back generations.
Serrina.
The palace archive keeper.
Jonah pulled out his phone, unlocking it with a thumb scan as he walked briskly down the concrete corridor. He was already navigating the elevator system that would take him to the oldest levels of the royal archives.
The sleek hiss of the security-sealed doors echoed softly as Jonah Ravena stepped into the Royal Archives. The temperature shifted slightly—cooler, drier—preserving the fragile historical records that lined the walls in sealed digital cases and temperature-controlled vaults. The scent of old parchment mixed with sterilized plastic filled the air, creating an atmosphere both clinical and ancient.
At the far desk stood Serrina, the archive’s long-serving keeper. Her aquamarine hair was tucked behind her ears, and her gloved fingers had just finished cataloging a scroll when she looked up and smiled politely. “Lord Ravena. What can I assist you with today?”
Without preamble, Jonah stepped forward, pulling up the paused footage on his tablet. He zoomed into the image of the stone tower he had seen earlier in the grainy security video, freezing the frame just before Jareth and Regina vanished through the high window. “Do you recognize this structure? It isn’t listed anywhere in the current palace blueprints. It’s as if it doesn't exist.”
Serrina blinked, adjusted her glasses, and then her expression shifted into something almost mischievous—like she'd been waiting for someone to finally ask. “Yes… yes, I do,” she said quietly, rising from her chair. Her boots clicked softly against the polished floor as she moved with purpose toward a sealed cabinet marked Restricted Archives – Pre-Unification Era.
“There are only two surviving architectural blueprints of the old palace grounds from the Middle Ages,” she explained, opening a secure drawer. She pulled on a pair of latex gloves, then gestured toward a small box on her desk. “Please, my lord. Gloves first. These records are irreplaceable.”
Jonah complied without protest, slipping the gloves over his hands before approaching. Serrina delicately extracted two sheets of translucent high-tech plastic—preservation-grade, with etched circuit-trace filaments that lit up with scanned detail as she placed them on the light table.
She pointed to a section near the edge of the old palace grounds, an isolated turret that jutted from the map like an afterthought. “Here,” she said, gently tapping the ancient blueprint. “This is the tower you’re looking for. Long forgotten. It once belonged to Aspen Balthazar.”
Jonah’s brow furrowed. The name stirred something in his memory. “Balthazar… that was Queen Amy’s maiden name, wasn’t it?”
Serrina nodded with a subtle grin. “Correct. Before she became Queen Amy Mikcloud, she was Amy Balthazar. Aspen was her younger brother—and the court’s official Pagan Warlock.”
Jonah gave her a skeptical glance. “A warlock? Don’t joke like that. Pagan bloodlines are folklore.”
The archivist’s expression shifted from amused to firm. “My lord, with all due respect, you know as well as I do that folklore in Celtica is often rooted in truth. The Mikcloud royal bloodline has a deeply woven history with the Pagan arts. They didn’t just practice magic—they preserved it, guarded it. Aspen Balthazar was no myth. He lived, worked, and experimented in that very tower.”
She tapped again on the old blueprint, then swiveled toward the sleek terminal behind her. A few quick commands brought up a holographic projection of the current palace layout. She overlaid it with the ancient blueprint.
“See?” she pointed. “The space still exists structurally, but look here—” her fingers highlighted an area near a stone wall in the west wing—“the entrance was sealed off. Bricked up during renovations following the Third Palace Reformation. No access point. No stairs. As far as the modern layout is concerned, the tower doesn’t exist.”
Jonah stared at the projection, his mind racing. He wasn't sure what disturbed him more—that Jareth had known about this place, or that the tower had ties to the old Pagan court. “Who else knows about this?”
“No one,” Serrina replied. “Not unless they’ve studied these blueprints firsthand, and I can assure you… that’s a very short list.”
He straightened, jaw tightening. “Thank you, Serrina. This information stays between us.”
The archivist nodded solemnly, already storing the blueprints back into their protective casing. “Understood, Lord Ravena.”
Without another word, Jonah turned and strode from the archives—but paused just as the doors began to hiss shut behind him.
“My lord,” Serrina called, stepping forward with her gloved hands clasped before her. “I would like to be part of finding the tower.”
Jonah turned back, his expression cautious. “Why?”
She smiled lightly, adjusting her glasses. “Because I’m an archive keeper, Lord Ravena. This is my domain—old blueprints, hidden wings, forgotten histories. If someone truly did access that tower, then they may have done so through knowledge drawn from my records. I should be there.”
Jonah exhaled through his nose, weighing her request. Despite her sometimes cheeky demeanor, Serrina had always been reliable—sharp-eyed and meticulously thorough. She was also discreet, something he valued more than ever now.
“Very well,” he said after a moment. “You’re coming with me.”
Serrina’s smile deepened, and she immediately began removing her gloves, securing the ancient blueprints back into their protective housing. “We’ll need to head to the West Wing. The old kitchen should still be accessible from the tour corridors.”
Jonah raised an eyebrow as they moved toward the elevator. “You said kitchen?”
“Mm-hmm,” Serrina nodded, keeping pace beside him. “The sealed entrance to the tower is built into a rear alcove of the old palace kitchen. It was once the main food preparation area for the royal household in the early 19th century, but after modernization, it was decommissioned. These days, it’s only open for tourist tours and school field trips.”
She smirked slightly. “Medieval hearths, hanging iron pots, stone prep tables—very theatrical. They kept it all intact for the aesthetic, but no one realizes there’s an entire forgotten tower bricked up behind a pantry wall.”
Jonah gave a grim nod. “Then that’s where we’re headed.”
As they entered the lift, Serrina tapped her badge against the security reader and keyed in an access code only archive officials possessed. The destination was restricted, unused in decades—until now.
“I have a feeling,” Serrina said softly, as the lift descended, “that tower wasn’t just meant to be forgotten. Someone wanted it buried.”
Jonah didn’t reply right away. His hands folded behind his back, and his jaw tightened. He already knew who that someone was.
And if Jareth truly had taken refuge there with the Princess … then the next few hours were going to change everything.
The heavy double doors of the old kitchen creaked open, revealing the preserved medieval heart of the palace. Jonah stepped through first, flanked by two guards bearing sledgehammers, their boots echoing off the stone tiles. Serrina followed closely behind, practically buzzing with excitement as her eyes swept over the vaulted ceilings and rows of polished copper cookware. A few palace workers dressed in authentic medieval garb for the daily tourist tours looked up in surprise. Their expressions were tight with confusion, but they quickly straightened and gave respectful bows, stepping aside without question.
“So this is the kitchen, huh?” Jonah murmured, casting his gaze around the high-ceilinged space. The blend of whitewashed walls, teal cabinetry, and hanging pots created an atmosphere that felt oddly timeless—frozen between eras.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Serrina replied with a soft smile, walking across the stone floor with purpose. “This entire kitchen was designed during the late medieval period, and remarkably, most of it remains untouched structurally. Now—according to the ancient blueprints…”
She paused near a large, sea-green cabinet built into the far wall—its shelves lined with centuries-old copper molds and kettles. With careful hands, she moved aside a decorative panel just to its right, revealing a stone archway hidden in plain sight.
“Ah! Here we go,” she said excitedly. “This cabinet conceals the stairway that leads into the lower part—the old cellar.”
The group descended into the cellar, their footsteps echoing into the musty stillness. The corridor grew narrower as they went, the air damp and chill against their skin. Moss clung to patches of stone, and long-forgotten dust clung to ancient wooden beams overhead. But Serrina was utterly undeterred—if anything, the cold only heightened her enthusiasm.
They reached the end of the corridor where the passage opened into a rounded stone chamber. The walls were rough with age, worn by time and forgotten by modern architecture. One wall stood out in particular—flatter, cleaner, and subtly outlined as though once bearing a hidden door.
Serrina ran her gloved fingers along the stone surface, her eyes lighting up. “It’s here,” she whispered reverently, almost to herself. “Right here.”
Jonah studied the wall, brow furrowed. There were no hinges or handles, but the outline was undeniable.
“This is it,” Serrina continued, her voice brimming with awe. “Finally, I get to see the inside of the great Pagan Warlock Aspen Balthazar’s tower. I’ve waited years to find this.”
She stepped back, looking toward the guards with expectant eyes. Jonah gave a quiet nod, arms folded as he stepped aside. The guards approached the wall, raising their sledgehammers.
“Start carefully. We’re not here to destroy history—just uncover it,” he instructed sharply.
The first swing echoed like a thunderclap through the stone cellar, and centuries of secrecy began to crumble away.
The hum of the engines was a gentle backdrop as the jet soared steadily through the skies. Outside the tinted windows, clouds drifted lazily past, bathed in soft afternoon light. Jareth sat across from Regina, legs stretched out comfortably, his chin propped against one hand as he gazed out over the horizon. It had been nearly forty minutes since takeoff, and the initial rush of adrenaline had long settled into a warm quiet.
The sound of soft wheels approaching pulled Regina’s gaze from the window. Amelia rolled her polished catering cart down the aisle, expertly balancing porcelain trays and glass flutes of sparkling water. Her smile was warm and familiar as she stopped beside them.
“Lunch is served,” she chimed with a soft lilt. “Thought you two might be ready for something a little more grounding than nerves and cocoa.”
Jareth grinned immediately, eyes lighting up. “No way—you made your burgers?” he asked, leaning forward with eager hands.
“I did,” Amelia chuckled. “Knew they were your favorite.”
The tray she lifted was filled with perfectly assembled mini burgers, each nestled in buttery brioche buns, layered with melted cheddar, crisp bacon, and a handful of peppery arugula. Waffle-cut chips were tucked around the edges, and tiny football-themed toothpick flags topped each burger, adding a touch of whimsy. The scent of grilled beef and warm buns filled the cabin in a comforting wave.
Regina blinked in surprise, then her expression softened with delight. “Oh, how cute,” she said, her voice tinged with amused charm. “Mini hamburgers…”
She reached for one, her fingers curling around the soft, golden bun. “They smell amazing.”
“You haven’t had anything until you’ve had Amelia’s burgers,” Jareth said confidently, already biting into his with a satisfied hum. “She makes them with this spice blend that should be illegal.”
Amelia winked. “Family recipe. Don’t ask, I’ll never tell.”
Regina giggled softly, easing back in her seat as she took a bite. The flavors melted onto her tongue—perfectly seasoned beef, smoky bacon, the gentle crisp of greens and cheddar… it was exactly the kind of comfort she hadn’t realized she’d needed. Her shoulders, still tight from days of tension, slowly relaxed another notch.
For a brief moment, it felt like they weren’t fleeing from danger, or hiding from a kingdom’s wrath. Just two teens in the clouds, sharing burgers and laughter on a quiet afternoon.
The bricked-up wall crumbled under the weight of determined effort. Dust swirled into the stale air as the sledgehammers struck again and again, echoing off the stone like a drumbeat of forgotten time. Serrina held her breath, the filtered mask snug on her face, as chunks of mortar gave way to the past.
At last, a hollow space opened up—dark and yawning like a secret exhaled. Serrina shone her flashlight into the narrow gap, eyes gleaming with academic thrill. She was the first to speak.
“The air’s surprisingly dry for something sealed so long. This is it,” she whispered. “This is Aspen’s tower.”
She turned back. “Everyone put your masks on. If this place has been closed off for decades, there could be mold or ancient spores—”
“There’s no need,” Jonah interrupted flatly.
Serrina blinked at him, startled. “My Lord, forgive me—but even if you believe it’s safe—”
“My son has been hiding out here,” Jonah said, voice low but resolute. “Knowing him, he’s probably cleaned the entire tower from bottom to top. Bleached it, polished it, and made it his own. If there was any danger, he’d have handled it.”
Her eyes widened behind the lenses of her glasses. “Your son…?”
Jonah nodded once.
He turned toward the guards, voice like steel. “Do not take anything. Do not touch anything that doesn’t need to be touched. Everything in their belongs to my son. Understand?”
The guards, their expressions sobering, nodded in unison. “Yes, sir.”
With the last barrier removed, the hidden doorway creaked open, revealing the faint glint of a spiral staircase carved into pale stone, coiling upward like the spine of a sleeping beast. The entrance was narrow, lit only by the dusty shafts of light from their flashlights bouncing off intricate engravings along the walls—ancient symbols blended with modern touches: clean light fixtures, a reinforced railing, signs that the space had been not just reclaimed but lived in.
Serrina stared, breath catching behind her mask. “By the ancestors… he really did fix it up…”
Jonah didn’t respond. His eyes were fixed on the spiraling steps, on the path ahead—the same path his son had once walked in solitude, pain, and secrecy.
“Let’s go,” he said, voice low. “This is still his.”
Room by room, the small group made their way through the forgotten tower, the sound of their boots echoing across ancient stone. The deeper they ventured, the more it became clear—Jareth had spent time here, shaping it into something more than just a hideout. Some rooms were left untouched, the dust layered thick on forgotten relics and bricked-in corridors, evidence of their neglect through the years. But others were the complete opposite—pristine, lived in, warmed by recent use.
When Serrina pushed open the door to what had once been a bath chamber, she paused in surprise. The scent of fresh lavender struck her nose—soft, floral, clean. Ceramic tiles, once dulled by decades of grime, gleamed under the warm overhead lighting. Modern fixtures stood in polished contrast to the gothic frame of the room, including a rainfall shower head and sleek black shelving stocked with neatly rolled towels. A bottle of shampoo still had condensation on its side, as if someone had just used it that morning.
Jonah didn’t comment, but his gaze lingered on every detail.
The next room, tucked behind a false wall panel, revealed a laundry space—unexpectedly compact and efficient. A stacked washer and dryer unit stood humming softly, its digital interface still lit. A laundry basket sat beside it, half-full with neatly folded shirts and dark-colored pants. Serrina blinked, adjusting her glasses in disbelief. “This isn’t just a bolt-hole,” she murmured, almost reverently. “It’s a residence. A hidden home… completely functional.”
But Jonah was already moving ahead, silent, determined.
The stairs grew tighter as they wound higher, the group ascending what felt like the very spine of the tower. The air grew cooler, stiller. Serrina’s breath hitched as they reached the final landing, a thick wooden door creaking open beneath her touch.
And then they stepped in.
The room that greeted them wasn’t just beautiful—it was otherworldly.
A wide, domed ceiling arched above them, painted in deep indigo and adorned with delicate constellations in gold, each one glittering faintly beneath the chandelier’s glow. Towering windows framed the far wall, their gothic arches filled with thick crystal panes that looked out onto jagged cliffs and rolling sea mist. The sky beyond was turning, slow and bruised with clouds, casting a silver-blue light into the chamber. Velvet curtains had been drawn aside, letting the mountain winds peer in on the forgotten sanctuary.
Bookshelves wrapped around the room’s perimeter, built into the very stone and reaching from floor to ceiling. Hundreds—maybe thousands—of volumes lined the walls in meticulous order. A luxurious blue velvet couch sat at the center, its cushions still shaped by someone’s recent weight. A matching ottoman and table completed the cozy reading space, where a few books were left half-open, their ribboned bookmarks still tucked inside.
But what drew the eye most was the bed.
It was modern. Black-framed, low to the ground, with dark navy sheets rumpled and still warm from sleep. A pillow bore the faint indent of someone’s head. A single silver ring sat atop the nightstand beside it, glinting softly in the light.
Serrina stepped forward, voice hushed with reverence. “This is… this is Aspen’s old study. And yet—it looks perfectly preserved. As if time stopped the moment he vanished…” She trailed off, overwhelmed.
Jonah said nothing. His eyes were locked on the far table, where two out-of-place objects stood out in stark contrast against the historical grandeur of the room—a compact, black hot pot and a humming mini-fridge.
He moved toward them slowly, the tension in his shoulders tightening with every step. He opened the hot pot first. Nothing inside—clean, dry. Then he crouched, fingers trembling slightly as he opened the fridge.
Rows of food containers greeted him. Neat. Organized. Each one labeled in fine handwriting, names and dates lined across the lids.
His eyes landed on one.
Dated the night before.
His heart skipped.
Slowly, he lifted the container from the shelf, carefully opening the lid.
And the smell hit him immediately.
French onion beef stew.
But not just any stew.
His wife’s stew.
The recipe she had crafted, refined, and passed down. The same one she always made on the first cold day of October. Caramelized onions, brandy, Worcestershire, thyme, bay leaves—each note wrapped around him like a ghostly embrace. His eyes burned. He licked his lips without realizing it, torn between memory and disbelief. He wanted—desperately—to taste it. But something stopped him. His fingers tightened around the lid before he gently sealed it again, returning it to the fridge as if the memory were too sacred to disturb.
Then came the voice.
“My Lord!”
Jonah spun around, breath catching. One of the guards had opened the large antique wardrobe and was carefully pulling something out—delicate fabric slipping through his fingers.
A gown.
Floor-length. Emerald green with gilded embroidery and rhinestones along the hem and sleeves. The telltale shimmer of fine royal threading.
Serrina’s eyes widened. “That’s… a ball gown?”
Jonah didn’t answer at first. He stepped forward, staring at it as though it might vanish if he blinked.
“The Princess’s gown,” he muttered darkly. “The one she wore last night.”
He didn’t need to guess. He knew.
She had been here.
With Jareth.
Another sound behind them—one of the guards near a sleek trash bin had gone pale.
“Uhm… My Lord…” the man said hesitantly, holding up a half-open trash bag. The rustle of fabric and plastic filled the room as the guard reached in and carefully pulled something out.
A long, thick Hair—red raspberry in hue—coiled like a ribbon of flame in his gloved hands, unmistakably fresh, unmistakably hers.
The silence was immediate.
Serrina’s breath caught, her eyes widening behind her glasses. “Her hair… That’s the Princess’s floor length hair…”
Jonah stood frozen, the storm behind his eyes shifting into a churning sea of realization. His gaze swept across the room once more—the modern bed with rumpled sheets, the ballgown hanging neatly in the wardrobe, the leftovers in the mini fridge that still carried the unmistakable aroma of his late wife’s French onion beef stew. Then came the box pulled out by one of the guards—inside were pieces of the Princess’s jewelry, unmistakably the ones she had worn the previous night. It all crashed down on him like a tidal wave of truth.
He stumbled backward and sank into a nearby chair, dazed.
Serrina frowned as she slowly approached. “My lord… why are the Princess’s things here?”
The guards, already starting to put the pieces together, exchanged glances. Jonah bit his lip, struggling to speak.
“I think…” he said slowly, voice heavy, “the Princess has been hiding up here… with my son… since last night.”
Serrina’s eyes widened in shock. “Why? Oh my god… My lord, are your son and the Princess seeing each other?!”
The guards blinked in unison, stunned by the suggestion.
Jonah let out a heavy sigh. “I… don’t know. But… he hid her last night, that much I’m certain of.”
“I don’t understand…” Serrina murmured, voice quiet with confusion. “Why would she be hiding?”
Jonah stood, just about to open his mouth and answer when—
“Your Majesty…!” one of the guards gasped, quickly bowing his head.
Jonah stiffened and turned to see King Stephone himself entering the study, a deep frown etched into his face.
“What are you all doing here?” the king demanded, his voice sharp and accusatory. “The workers in the old kitchen told me you broke through a wall into some… forgotten tower. And yet…” His gaze wandered around the room, taking in the pristine condition of the chamber. “This place… it looks fully restored.”
Then his eyes landed on the gown. The jewelry box. The sealed bag containing strands of thick raspberry-red hair.
He stepped forward quickly, fingers brushing against the fabric of the gown. His face went pale. “This is Regina’s,” he hissed. “She wore this last night…”
His voice rose into a snarl as he turned sharply toward Jonah.
“You’d better tell me what the hell is going on! She’s been missing since last night, and I find her belongings here?! Who lives in this tower?!”
Jonah stood silent, lips pressed tight, unable to meet the king’s gaze. Something deep in his gut twisted. Serrina, standing beside him, suddenly felt a creeping unease crawl up her spine. Something wasn’t right.
A nearby guard, voice trembling, stepped forward and answered quietly, “Lord Jonah’s… son…”
Jonah shut his eyes for a moment, then opened them slowly, his hands shaking at his sides.
Stephone turned his head, eyes narrowing.
“Your son…?”
Jonah couldn’t speak. His throat tightened as a mix of fear and disbelief paralyzed him. Words failed. He didn’t know what to say—what could be said in the face of this?
King Stephone’s gaze sharpened to a deadly glint, his voice lowering into a venomous growl. “Your son has touched my precious treasure,” he said, eyes gleaming with fury. “And you know what that means.”
Jonah trembled, a cold wave of dread washing over him.
Without hesitation, Stephone turned toward the doorway, barking the command, “Arrest him. And his son as well. Destroy this tower.”
The order made Serrina’s stomach turn. She stepped forward quickly, voice firm. “Your Majesty, you cannot destroy a national landmark—especially one within palace grounds. That’s forbidden by royal law. This tower, despite its age, is protected. Not even a reigning monarch can touch it.”
Stephone scowled at her, clearly displeased but unable to argue. “Fine… but guards, arrest Lord Jonah.”
The guards hesitated. None of them moved. The room fell into tense silence.
Stephone’s voice rose, livid now. “I said arrest him!”
But Jonah finally stood his ground, voice steady despite the trembling of his hands. “No,” he said firmly, locking eyes with the king. “They will not arrest me.”
He took a step forward, defiant.
“And you, my King, will not lay a hand on my son.”
The tension in the room twisted like a knife.
“You want to know what my son said to me the last time I saw him?” Jonah continued, his voice weighted. “‘You, the King, and the rest of Parliament… you all disgust me. Mother would be ashamed of what you’re doing.’”
Stephone’s eyes went wide with fury. “You told your son?!”
Jonah shook his head, voice low. “No, Your Majesty. Someone else told him.”
He exhaled harshly, as if casting off the burden. “I believe the Princess already knows what you're planning for her. So yes—I see why she ran. Why she hid here last night. And truthfully? I hope they don’t come back.”
Stephone’s jaw clenched, rage trembling behind his eyes. He pointed stiffly at Jonah. “You have twenty-four hours to leave this palace. Take what you must. After that, return to your tomb of a mansion—and stay there.”
With rigid posture and cold fury, the King turned and walked out, the door shutting behind him with a sharp finality.
Silence lingered in his absence.
Jonah stood still, the weight of the confrontation sinking in. His shoulders dropped with a weary breath. Beside him, Serrina blinked, visibly shaken.
“My lord…” she said softly. “What is going on…?”
The hum of the engines softened slightly as a familiar chime echoed through the cabin.
“This is your captain speaking,” came Jake’s calm voice through the intercom. “We are now approaching Donegal Airport, Ireland. We’ll begin our descent and landing shortly. Please remain seated and fasten your seatbelts.”
Jareth stirred in his seat, glancing up from the window where the rolling green coastlines of Ireland now stretched below them. The narrow ribbon of runway at the edge of the ocean came into view, hugged by grassy dunes and mist-kissed cliffs. He leaned forward slightly, checking to make sure Regina had heard.
Regina looked out the window with wonder in her eyes, a soft breath leaving her lips. “It’s beautiful…” she murmured. The Atlantic shimmered just beyond the airfield, and little patches of whitecaps dotted the surf. “We’re really here.”
Jareth offered a faint smile, brushing a hand through his tousled hair. “One of my favorite places on Earth,” he said. “Quiet, green, and no one breathing down our necks.”
Regina reached for her seatbelt and clicked it into place with a metallic snap. Her fingers still tingled slightly from the warmth of the cocoa Amelia had brought them earlier, and the lingering taste of those mini burgers reminded her just how much lighter the mood had become on this flight—if only briefly.
“I almost don’t want to get off,” she said with a quiet chuckle. “Feels like this jet is the only place where we’ve been safe.”
Jareth turned toward her, the light of the overhead lamp catching the silver streaks in his white-blond hair. “Then we’ll make sure the place we land becomes just as safe,” he said gently. “Grivida will protect you. My uncle will meet us as soon as we land. He’s already set things up.”
Regina nodded, though nerves fluttered in her chest. Her fingers curled around the edge of the armrest.
Outside the window, the coastline glided past slowly, the runway now in full view as the jet descended steadily.
Amelia moved down the aisle, steady despite the shift in altitude. She knelt near them briefly. “We’ll be touching down in less than five minutes. Jake says the weather’s clear and the runway’s dry, so it’ll be a smooth landing. I’ll meet you at the exit when we taxi in.”
Jareth gave her a grateful nod. “Thanks, Amelia. For everything.”
She smiled back and moved on, beginning her final checks.
As the nose of the jet tilted ever so slightly downward, the wheels groaning into position beneath the floor, Jareth reached over and gently took Regina’s hand.
She looked at him, startled at first, but didn’t pull away.
“I don’t know what’s waiting for us,” he said, voice low. “But I’m glad it’s you sitting beside me when we get there.”
The moment lingered, quiet and warm.
Then the cabin jolted slightly as the tires met the tarmac, the private jet gliding smoothly along the runway. The grassy dunes blurred past the windows. The plane gradually slowed, the brakes hissing in soft pulses, until it eased toward the small terminal nestled by the sea.
Regina’s breath caught as she saw the expanse of emerald fields and the distant cliffs. Donegal felt untouched—serene, as if pulled from a memory she hadn’t known she had.
Jareth gave her hand one last squeeze before releasing it. “Welcome to Ireland,” he said softly.
The plane rolled to a gentle stop.
Notes:
Yeah we arent done with past chapters yet DX sory!
Chapter Text
The cabin gave a soft jolt as the wheels touched down, the smooth thrum of the landing gear absorbing the impact before the private jet glided effortlessly along the sleek stretch of runway. Beyond the glass, grassy dunes swayed gently under the kiss of the coastal wind, blurring into streaks of green and gold. The faint scent of saltwater, carried from the open ocean beyond the cliffs, seemed to linger in the air even here. Brakes hissed in gentle pulses, slowing the aircraft's momentum until it rolled gracefully toward a small, secluded terminal tucked close to the sea, a place far removed from the chaos of major airports.
Regina's breath caught as the view opened wider—rolling emerald fields stretched into the horizon, hemmed in by weather-worn cliffs that plunged into foaming waters below. Donegal felt untouched by time, a serene place carved from a quieter age. The sight stirred something deep within her, like a memory she didn't know she had—familiar yet foreign, a place her soul seemed to recognize even if her mind did not.
Jareth's fingers, still laced with hers, gave one final, steadying squeeze before he released her hand. His voice was quiet, carrying the weight of both reassurance and something unspoken. "Welcome to Ireland."
The jet came to its final halt beside a small private hangar, the soft whir of the engines fading into silence. A moment later, Jake's familiar voice came over the intercom, lighthearted yet edged with a quiet relief. "This is your captain speaking—we have landed safely and are now parked at a private hangar. I hope you both enjoyed the flight."
Neither Regina nor Jareth moved immediately, the stillness between them almost deliberate. Amelia, stationed a few steps away, watched them with a knowing smile. As the cockpit door opened, Jake emerged, tugging off his headset as he approached. "Alright," he began matter-of-factly, "I've booked us into a hotel not far from here. We'll be staying for two weeks. I'll also rent a car so we can get you to the—"
"Jake, my love," Amelia interrupted smoothly, her voice carrying a mix of curiosity and quiet insistence.
Jake froze mid-sentence, glancing back at her as if bracing for the question. "Y–Yes?"
Her eyes narrowed slightly, though not unkindly. "Why did we smuggle the Princess and your cousin to Ireland?"
The air shifted subtly. Jake's gaze flicked toward Jareth, then to Regina, a silent question hanging between them. "Princess... you don't mind her knowing?"
Regina met his eyes with calm certainty, her head tilting in a quiet nod. "She can know."
Jake's brows drew together as he leaned a hip against the bulkhead, one hand resting on the back of a nearby seat. The hum of the cooling engines filled the brief silence before he spoke again. "Alright then... but you should know, Amelia—this isn't just a family favor. This is dangerous. If the wrong people find out where they are, it could mean more than just bad press or scandal."
Amelia's eyes flicked from Jake to Regina, then to Jareth, reading the tension thick in the air. "Dangerous how?" she asked, her voice cautious but steady.
Jareth straightened, but his expression was grave. "The King isn't just trying to control her future—he wants to own it. Every piece of it. He doesn't see Regina as his daughter. To him, she's a... possession. Something he can mold, manipulate, and claim as his own. And he's willing to cross every line to make sure she never escapes that role."
Regina flinched at the truth in Jareth's voice. She didn't know the full depths of her father's twisted obsession, but she knew enough. Her voice was soft, trembling, but clear. "He's arranged a marriage. One I never consented to. He says it's for the kingdom's future—but I can see it in his eyes. It's about control. About power. He doesn't want an heir... he wants to ensure I can't defy him, even if it means using my body, my bloodline, to bind me forever."
Jake stiffened. Amelia's hand clenched the seatback. Neither of them spoke for a moment.
Jareth continued, his tone low. "He wants to keep her under his thumb—by force if necessary. We don't know how far he's willing to go. And frankly, I don't want to find out."
Amelia turned to Regina slowly, horror and sympathy twisting across her face. "He would... do that to his own daughter...?"
Regina's gaze fell to the floor, her voice hollow. "He already is."
Jake exhaled sharply and stood taller. "Then we keep moving. Quietly. No paper trail. No names. Just us, and the road ahead."
Jareth nodded firmly. "We're headed to Grivida. King Zach was one of Lady Felica's closest friends—he'd never let anything happen to her daughter. Their royal laws protect foreign royalty seeking asylum. If we reach their borders first, your father can't force you back."
Regina's gaze softened, though the shadow of worry lingered. "I know... I just want to be free of the marriage he's trying to trap me in. I won't let him use me to produce heirs."
Jareth's jaw tightened, but he said nothing about the darker truth he knew.
Amelia placed a steady hand on Regina's shoulder, her expression warm but resolute. "Then you're not alone anymore. Jake and I—we'll see you both safely there."
Jake gave a reassuring smile before glancing toward the window, where the terminal staff were starting to move luggage carts into place. "Come on. Let's get checked into the hotel first, then we'll get you two to the gate. It's going to be a long two hours on the road to reach it."
Regina rose from her seat, adjusting her jacket as Jareth moved instinctively closer, his hand brushing against the small of her back in a quiet, protective gesture. Outside, the Irish air was already misting against the tarmac, the scent of salt and earth seeping in through the open cabin door. She felt a faint shiver—not from the cold, but from the weight of what lay ahead.
Grivida wasn't just a safe haven; it was where King Zachariah resided, the one man with the influence and power to counter Stephone's reach. If they could reach him before the King's agents caught wind of their movements, there might still be a chance to protect her freedom.
Jareth's voice was low as they stepped toward the hatch. "Once we're there, you'll be under Zach's protection. He won't let Stephone get anywhere near you." He glanced sideways at her, the promise in his eyes unwavering.
Regina nodded faintly, holding on to that hope as they descended the stairs to the wet runway, the cool Atlantic breeze curling around them. The road to Grivida was still long, but at least now, they weren't running alone.
An hour later...
The sky had shifted from pale gray to a deeper slate, the clouds hanging low over the hills as the car wound through the narrow country roads. The morning rain had stopped, leaving the road slick and shimmering under the filtered daylight. Tall hedgerows and rolling pastures lined the way, and in the far distance, the sea glittered faintly beyond the cliffs.
Inside the car, the quiet hum of the engine filled the silence. Jareth sat with one arm draped along the back of the seat, his eyes scanning the countryside with quiet alertness. Regina rested beside him, wrapped in a soft wool coat Jake had given her back at the hotel. Her gaze drifted to the window, watching the hills roll past, her thoughts a thousand miles away.
The check-in had been swift and quiet. Jake, ever the professional, had chosen a discreet boutique hotel nestled in the village just outside the airport. They'd kept their names off the registry—paid in cash. Jareth made sure of it. The room had only been used long enough for a quick shower and to drop off what little they carried. There was no time to rest. Every second mattered.
Jake drove at a steady pace, his hands firm on the wheel. Beside him, Amelia navigated using a glowing holo-map synced to the Embassy's secure systems. The road to the teleportation gate wasn't marked on any public GPS. Only a handful of people knew where it was, and fewer had clearance to use it.
"The gate's protected by Celtica's deep-field enchantments," Amelia had explained earlier. "No signals in or out. No drones. It's the safest jump point we've got in Europe."
Regina tightened her grip on the seatbelt as the car continued weaving through the Irish countryside, the horizon rolling past in a blur of mist and green. Storm clouds hung low in the distance, brushing the mountain peaks in a smoky veil.
Jake glanced at the rearview mirror, his voice steady but alert. "Security detail will meet us upon reaching the gate. It's high clearance—no one passes through without express authorization. They'll need identification. Do you have anything to confirm who you are, Princess?"
Regina nodded and reached into her bag. Her fingers wrapped around something solid and cool. When she pulled it out, a soft shimmer caught the light.
Nestled in her palm was a regal, antique brooch—its design elegant and otherworldly. Twisting gold filigree cradled a large, emerald-green gem, its surface flawless, its depth endless. Delicate metal leaves curled around the jewel like ivy, and the center glowed faintly in the dim interior of the car.
"It was my mother's," Regina said quietly. "I wore it last night. She said... King Zach gave it to her as a wedding gift."
Jareth leaned closer, his gaze fixed on the brooch. "That's not just any heirloom," he murmured. "That's a Royal Grividan sigil. No one but blood or those bound by law can wear one. The security team will recognize it immediately."
Amelia let out a soft breath of relief. "Then that'll get us through."
Regina closed her fingers over the brooch, holding it close. "It has to."
The car continued forward, a solemn quiet settling over them as the path to the gate—and to sanctuary—drew nearer with each passing mile.
Two hours had passed since they left the hotel. The long, winding road had cut through miles of untouched Irish countryside, passing scattered coastal cliffs, moorlands, and meadows tinged with late summer gold. Few vehicles dared approach this route—the narrow road had been sealed off miles back, restricted only to diplomatic or authorized travel. This wasn't just any government checkpoint. It was the Celtic-European Teleportation Gateway to Grivida, a gate so heavily protected, so rarely used, that even whispers of it were cloaked under layers of military clearance and diplomatic silence.
As Jake's car approached the outer gate, the landscape shifted dramatically. Ahead stood an enormous circular portal ringed by colossal pylons, each tower pulsing with quiet energy. The grasslands around it were sectioned off with invisible fences—sensor tripwires designed to alert the base to any unauthorized movement. Surveillance drones hovered silently overhead.
Just before the main gate was a military-grade checkpoint, its structure flanked by turrets, armed guards, and reinforced barricades glowing with red perimeter lights. Steel bollards lined the entry lane, glowing brighter as the car rolled forward.
Jake slowed the vehicle, easing to a halt just outside the entry zone. One of the red lights turned amber, signaling a live scan. Moments later, a uniformed Grividan Sentinel stepped out of the armored checkpoint. Clad in sleek black-and-crimson body armor, the soldier's helmet was fully sealed, but his commanding voice rang sharp and clear.
"Stop the vehicle. Identification required. State your purpose for approaching the Grivida Gate."
Jake kept his composure, glancing toward Regina in the passenger seat. "Emergency diplomatic request," he said carefully. "Transporting a royal seeking sanctuary."
The sentinel's posture stiffened. "Name and designation?"
Regina slowly lowered her window. The soldier took a step closer, eyes narrowing through his visor.
Regina met his gaze. "Regina Lightning Mikcloud. First Crowned Princess of Celtica."
The guard blinked. "Princess...?"
"I fled Celtica two nights ago," Regina continued, her voice firm despite the storm that roiled in her chest. "My father, King Stephone Mikcloud, has violated both law and morality. He is no longer fit to rule. I am here under emergency political exile, seeking asylum under King Zachariah Meyers of Grivida."
At her words, the soldier hesitated—but only for a breath. "Evidence?"
Regina reached into her leather satchel and carefully withdrew a brooch—a stunning relic of gold filigree and green emerald, shaped with leaflike flourishes and a central gem so brilliant it seemed to pulse with life. "This belonged to my mother, Queen Felica," she said, her fingers tightening briefly around it. "It was a gift from King Zachariah to her on her wedding day. Only a daughter of Felica Mikcloud would carry it."
The guard's breath caught. He stepped closer, inspecting the artifact under the scanner built into his gauntlet. A soft chime echoed—Confirmed: Royal Family Artifact. Grivida Protocol 04 recognized.
"I'll alert the internal command," the guard said quickly. "Please remain in your vehicle. Do not move forward until we clear the channel."
He turned and strode briskly back toward the gate tower, speaking rapidly into his comms. Almost immediately, the red perimeter lights began to dim, shifting to amber. A faint hum stirred the air as the outer pylons lit up one by one. The energy field within the gate began flickering with pulses of light like rippling water.
Jake leaned forward against the wheel. "We're really doing this..."
From the backseat, Amelia exhaled softly, watching the glow intensify ahead. "That brooch saved us a lot of questions," she murmured. "They won't deny the daughter of Felica."
Regina didn't respond. Her eyes were locked on the gate—on the circular structure opening like a wound through space, revealing the glowing arcway that could carry her and Jareth to Grivida, to sanctuary, to safety... or to something far more uncertain.
Jareth reached across and placed his hand gently over hers. "We're almost there."
The lights on the console ahead flicked green.
Clearance granted.
The instant their vehicle exited the teleportation gate, the overwhelming heat and light of Grivida washed over them. The high-tech road beneath the tires gave way to the smooth, pristine infrastructure that threaded through a city of awe-inspiring contrast—where ancient royal tradition met sleek, futuristic brilliance. Towering skyscrapers shimmered like crystal blades in the sunlight beyond the coastline, while in the opposite direction, the jagged cliffs held the crimson-stone majesty of the Crimson Palace.
Their car slowed near the checkpoint where soldiers in formal Grividan attire stood guard—uniforms stitched with red trim and black armor, their posture rigid yet respectful. One of the guards, after scanning the vehicle's clearance, pointed down the road with his baton. "Follow the Royal Guard escort to the Crimson Palace," he announced. "You are being granted immediate passage. His Majesty awaits in his personal study."
Jake nodded and slowly followed behind the black and red escort vehicle now pulling ahead of them. Regina sat back in the seat, the brooch still clutched tightly in her hand, her thumb brushing across the gemstone's flawless surface. Her heart pounded in her chest—not with fear, but with the weight of what was about to happen. This wasn't just a visit. This was her plea for sanctuary. Her declaration of rebellion. Her leap of faith.
The car ascended a winding path cut into the stone, winding up toward the towering fortress of the Crimson Palace. Its towering turrets, crimson walls, and golden accents gleamed against the horizon. As they reached the main gates, flanked by statues of Grivida's former rulers, a pair of massive wrought-iron doors began to open slowly, revealing the inner courtyard.
Amelia whispered from the front, "I've only ever seen this place in historical broadcasts..."
Regina remained silent, her eyes locked forward, her mind sharpening. She had come too far to look back now.
Inside the gates, palace attendants and royal guards awaited them in tight formation. The car came to a stop under the archway leading into the palace proper. One of the guards stepped forward, bowing slightly at the waist before opening Regina's door. "Princess Regina Mikcloud. His Majesty, King Zachariah Meyers, will receive you now."
Regina stepped out onto Grividan soil, her back straight, her chin high. Whatever lay ahead, she was ready.
Jareth followed closely behind, protective as always, his hand brushing the small of her back in silent support.
The escort began to guide them toward the east wing, where the King's private study awaited.
The ride through Grivida was unlike anything Regina had imagined. After the two-hour journey through Ireland and passing through the high-security teleportation gate, the landscape had shifted drastically. Now, the car moved steadily through the city's glimmering streets, flanked by pristine glass towers that gleamed like crystals in the afternoon light. Suspended walkways crisscrossed between futuristic skyscrapers, and vibrant greenery weaved between buildings, showing the harmony between nature and modernity Grivida was known for.
Regina stared out the window in awe, the skyline of Grivida City unfolding before her eyes. It was the most advanced nation on the planet, and it showed in every detail—from the levitating transit cars overhead to the intricate LED-lit roads beneath them. Jake drove with purpose, following a sleek black convoy of Royal Guard vehicles ahead of them.
After nearly half an hour of weaving through the capital, the car approached a massive walled stronghold set upon a crimson bluff overlooking the sea. High spires jutted toward the sky, lined with ornate banners bearing the sigil of the royal family—King Zachariah Meyers' crest in silver and ruby red. This was the Crimson Palace—an ancient bastion of power, layered in dark red stone and obsidian steel, untouched by time yet infused with cutting-edge defense systems and hidden surveillance arrays.
The gates opened with a low hum, metal groaning as guards in sleek black and red military uniforms saluted sharply. Their faces were emotionless beneath the visors of their helmets, each armed with the latest model of Luminite-based rifles. One of them pointed forward with a gloved hand.
"Follow the escort to the eastern wing. His Majesty is expecting you," the commander announced curtly.
Jake nodded once and drove slowly past the entrance as the royal escort surrounded them—two cars ahead, two behind. Amelia gently squeezed Regina's hand from the front seat, offering her reassurance as the towering silhouette of the palace drew closer.
They parked beneath a vaulted awning carved with golden filigree. The moment they stepped out, another unit of the Crimson Guard flanked them. Regina felt the weight of history press in all around her—the high arches, the polished black marble beneath her feet, the scent of rosewood incense mingling with the sterile cool of conditioned air.
They were led swiftly through the east wing of the palace. The halls were grand beyond anything she had ever known in Celtica—one corridor was lined with tall windows flooding the hallway with soft sunlight, while another boasted a central fountain surrounded by intricate tapestries and golden trim.
But Regina's mind was focused only on what lay ahead.
Eventually, the guards led them to a set of massive double doors. They were black lacquered wood with inlaid gold, and above them hung a sculpted insignia of the Grividan crown, flanked by twin phoenixes—one red, one silver.
The doors were pulled open.
Inside, Zachariah Meyers stood waiting—tall, regal, draped in black tailored robes adorned with red and silver accents. His crimson eyes studied Regina with restrained intensity, no warmth, but no cruelty either—only a fierce expectation. Behind him, the study glowed with the soft light of antique chandeliers, velvet drapes, and floor-to-ceiling shelves filled with ancient tomes and relics.
The room was timeless.
Regina's heart pounded. This was the moment she had risked everything for.
King Zachariah did not speak immediately. He studied her with an unreadable expression before finally saying, "Princess Regina... it's good to see you. The last time I laid eyes on you, you were only a few months old. I was named your godfather."
Regina's eyes widened in shock. She stepped closer, her voice hushed. "You were?"
Zach chuckled softly. "Very much so. Now..." His crimson gaze shifted to the others behind her. "Who are the ones tagging along with you?"
Jareth stepped forward and bowed with respectful formality. "Greetings, King Zach. I am Lord Jareth Ravena, son of Ambassador Lord Jonah Ravena. And this is my cousin—former lieutenant and royal pilot."
Jake offered a sharp, practiced bow. "An honor, Your Majesty. Jake Ravena."
Amelia followed, her tone steady. "Amelia Ravena, Your Grace. Former Special Ops."
Zachariah gave a low, amused laugh. "Well now... quite the company you've brought. So—tell me—why have you brought my goddaughter to me?"
Jareth's expression darkened. "It's her father... and what he plans to do to her."
Zachariah's crimson eyes sharpened, the faint trace of mirth vanishing entirely. He leaned back against the edge of his polished desk, folding his arms as his voice dropped into a low, commanding tone.
"Elaborate."
Regina hesitated, her fingers curling tightly around the fabric of her skirt. Even as she stepped forward, there was a faint tremor in her hands. "My father... has lied to the entire country. For months, maybe longer, he's been planning to force me into an arranged marriage with some noble—at least, that's what I believed at first." Her voice faltered, her throat constricting as the truth spilled out. "But no... it isn't with a noble. It's with him... uncle."
The air in the ornate chamber seemed to grow heavier. The shadows from the tall windows stretched across the carpet, and Zachariah's face became unreadably cold. He didn't move. He didn't even blink. The stillness in him carried a dangerous weight—like a predator waiting for the right moment to strike.
Jareth stepped forward then, his voice steady but edged with frustration. "I met her last night at the ball. She was alone, hiding on the same balcony I'd retreated to. She looked terrified, so I... I brought her to my personal space in the tower and kept her hidden there for the night. First thing this morning, I went to my cousin for help."
Amelia's jaw was tight, her voice low but fierce. "He's obsessed with her, Your Majesty. Not as a daughter. Not as royalty. As something to claim for himself."
Jake's tone was grim. "That's why they
ran. That's why we risked the gate. If he succeeds, it won't just be her freedom that's stolen—he'll take her body as well."
Zachariah slowly pushed off the desk, his steps deliberate as he closed the space between himself and Regina. His height and presence filled the room, not with cruelty, but with the controlled, simmering power of someone who could unleash devastation in an instant if provoked.
"I suspected he was ambitious," Zachariah said at last, his voice low but carrying. "I knew Felica was the only reason he was tolerated in our circles. She was my dearest friend." His gaze softened—just for a heartbeat—as it settled on Regina. "I told her once... if anything ever happened to her, I would watch over you."
Regina's composure cracked, her voice breaking as she spoke. "He's threatening the entire Parliament to make them follow his order..."
Zachariah drew in a slow breath, then placed a gloved hand gently on her shoulder. "Then you've done the right thing by coming to me. You are under my protection now, Regina. Whatever shadows your father has cast... they end here."
He turned then to Jareth, Jake, and Amelia. "Thank you for bringing her to me safely. You three are welcome to remain here as long as you wish."
Jake grinned faintly. "We'll gladly stay for dinner, Your Highness, but my wife and I do have a hotel near the airport. I've got a week of vacation here, so I'll be taking my lovely wife on some tourist trips across Ireland."
Amelia flushed lightly, but her smile was warm. "About Jareth?" she asked, glancing at him with raised brows.
Jareth turned back to Zachariah, determination in his eyes. "Please... let me stay with Regina. I—" he swallowed hard, his voice dipping lower, "I love her."
Regina's cheeks turned crimson, and she looked down quickly. Zachariah's eyebrow arched, a smirk tugging at one corner of his mouth. "I see... so something happened last night between the two of you?"
Regina's head shot up, her face even redder. "U-Uncle!" she stammered.
Jareth's ears burned as he gulped. "Y-Yes...?"
Jake groaned, rubbing his temple. "Of course... they're both fifteen, after all."
Amelia just laughed quietly, shaking her head.
The rest of the afternoon and evening passed in a surprisingly warm calm, the tense air from earlier dissolving into quiet conversation, a shared dinner, and the subtle comfort of safety behind the palace walls. By the time the clock neared eleven, the sprawling halls of the Crimson Palace had grown still, their usual grandeur softened by the hush of night.
Regina had been given her own room—a richly furnished chamber with deep crimson drapes and gold filigree, its tall windows looking out over the moonlit gardens. Across the hall, Jareth's room stood opposite hers, the dark wood doors shut for the night.
She lay on the massive bed, dressed in a silk pajama shirt and matching shorts, the cool fabric whispering against her skin as she shifted restlessly. Sleep refused to come. No matter how she turned, her mind would not quiet—the events of the last two days, her father's looming shadow, and the strange comfort she felt in Jareth's presence all tangled in her thoughts.
With a soft sigh, she swung her legs over the side of the bed. The polished floor was cool beneath her bare feet until she slipped them into her house slippers. Reaching for her robe, she draped it loosely around her shoulders, tying the sash with quiet precision before padding to the door.
The moment she eased it open, the hallway greeted her with shadows. The only illumination came from faint wall sconces set to a dim, golden glow, casting long, soft-edged shapes across the marble floor. For a heartbeat, she glanced toward Jareth's door. She could go to him—he'd probably be asleep, his hair falling across his face in that way that made her heart do strange little flips. But she knew he needed his rest after everything.
So instead, Regina turned to the left, her slippers making almost no sound against the corridor's polished surface. Her hand brushed lightly against the wall as she walked, the faint hum of the palace at night—the whisper of distant fountains, the occasional creak of settling wood—keeping her company as she moved deeper into the wing.
Regina's steps slowed as she turned a corner, the soft glow of a single lantern spilling across the floor from an open doorway ahead. She recognized the faint scent of aged parchment and spiced wine—Zachariah's study. The door was cracked just enough for voices to slip through into the otherwise silent hall.
She froze, her pulse quickening at the sound of low, tense conversation.
Inside, Zach sat behind his heavy mahogany desk, one hand lazily swirling a glass of crimson wine. Standing in front of him was a tall, dark-haired man with a sharp, almost predatory aura—his older brother, Prince Clover, the eldest of the Meyers siblings. Off to one side, lounging in a chair near the desk with a faint smirk, was a younger figure: Prince Draven, just fifteen, his crimson eyes glinting like cut rubies in the lamplight.
Clover's jaw was tight, his frown deep as he bit his lip. "Are you telling me Felica's daughter is here? And that she ran away from her own kingdom?"
Zach took a slow sip of wine before answering. "Yes. Apparently her father is a disgusting man, reviving old practices that should have been buried centuries ago. On paper, she's to be married off to some noble... but in reality?" His gaze hardened. "It's with him."
Draven's eyes went wide. "W–What...?"
Clover's expression darkened, a low growl rumbling from his chest. "That's... so ancient it makes me sick. You should have fought for Felica, brother. You were always in love with her. I say you should have marched into that wedding and taken her yourself!"
Zach's frown deepened. "I was in no place to do so. Father forbade me to interfere... and when he was king, his word was final. A year later, when he died, Mother took over until she passed the throne to me a few years ago."
Clover huffed, his tone sharp. "I'm the eldest. It should have been mine."
"Most likely because Mother saw nothing but darkness in your heart, big brother," Draven remarked smoothly, his lips curving into a knowing smile.
Clover's head snapped toward him. "Shut up, you little shit."
Draven only smirked wider, clearly enjoying the irritation.
Zach let out a slow sigh, setting his wine glass down with deliberate care. "Knock it off, you two... And Regina, you can come in."
All three turned toward the door as it eased open. Regina stood in the hall, her cheeks flushed from being caught eavesdropping. Taking a breath to steady herself, she stepped into the warm lamplight.
Zach's expression softened into a reassuring smile. "Come here. Don't be shy."
She crossed the room, her robe shifting around her ankles, and when she stopped before his desk, her voice trembled—but her words were firm. "I... I want to overthrow my father. Please... help me, Uncle."
Zach blinked slowly at her words, the weight of her plea settling over the room like a shadow. Across from him, Clover finally lowered himself into a chair with a decisive thump, crossing one leg over the other as his crimson eyes narrowed.
"I say we do it," Clover said bluntly, his voice carrying the sharp edge of conviction. "Kick that disgusting man off his throne."
From his seat by the desk, Draven leaned back, idly twirling a silver chain between his fingers. "Mhm... maybe," he drawled, his gaze flicking between his brothers. "Or perhaps we should ask for Mother's advice before we just... start a war, big brother."
Zach rested his elbows on the desk, lacing his fingers together. His expression was calm, but there was a hard glint in his eyes. "I've already spoken to our mother. She was disgusted—furious, even. She told me it's up to me to decide what must be done." He leaned forward slightly, his tone darkening. "Frankly, I think I owe that man a visit anyway."
His gaze shifted to Regina, steady and unflinching. "But you'll have to return with me... you and Jareth both."
Regina didn't hesitate. She straightened her back, her voice quiet but steady. "I know. I have to face him."
A few days later, Jonah had told Serrina everything—every vile detail of the king's plan, every whisper of corruption. Word had spread quietly among the royal guard, and now many ignored the king's summons entirely, their loyalty shifting away from the throne and toward something purer.
Jonah sat alone in his office at his long-forgotten manor. Even after his wife's passing, the maids had never let it fall to dust; each week, they tended to it faithfully, keeping its halls pristine.
The room was quiet, save for the faint ticking of the old clock on the shelf. Jonah sat behind his desk, the warm glow of a single lamp casting light over scattered papers. Before him rested a steaming bowl of French beef stew—heated from the small container his son had left in the mini fridge inside the hidden tower.
He lifted the spoon, letting the rich aroma rise before taking a bite. As soon as the flavors hit his tongue, he froze. His eyes widened slightly, then softened as he slowly chewed and swallowed. The taste...
It was hers.
It was Orchid's.
The same recipe she had always made during the cold autumn evenings, the same balance of thyme and caramelized onions that warmed more than just the stomach. Tears welled and spilled freely down his face, blurring the sight of the desk before him.
His voice broke in the quiet.
"Orchid... our son... he has your amazing cooking skills."
Jonah's gaze drifted to the framed photo on his desk—the one he had never been able to move, even after all these years. In the picture, Orchid's smile seemed to glow, her sliver white hair and starlight blue eyes shimmering even in still image. He reached out, brushing a finger along the glass as if he could feel her warmth again.
The late afternoon sun cast a molten glow across the marble balcony, its warmth doing little to ease King Stephone's tightening jaw. He stood overlooking the gardens when the heavy clank of armored boots echoed behind him. Two knights approached, their expressions unusually grim.
"This was delivered to us... secretly," one of them said, holding out a sleek, unfamiliar device.
Stephone's brow furrowed. "What is it?"
The knight crouched, pressing a recessed button on the side before placing it carefully on the ground. Instantly, a ring of blue light pulsed outward, and a shimmering hologram came to life—an unmistakable projection of King Zachariah of Grivida.
Stephone's lips pressed into a thin line.
Zach's voice carried the weight of cold authority. "Stephone, do you want to know what I discovered when my lovely goddaughter came to me? You are a truly disgusting human being. I'll give you one chance—step down from your throne, or you will be removed from it."
Stephone's nostrils flared. "My treasure—" he caught himself, "—I mean my daughter ran away... to Grivida, no less? Whatever lies she's been telling you are nothing but foolishness. She is shirking her duty to her country by refusing her arranged marriage to a noble boy."
The guards shifted uncomfortably, their disapproval unmasked. They already knew the truth.
Zach's eyes narrowed, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. "I see. How pathetic a king you are. My dear Felica deserved far better. Regina should have been my daughter—not the child of a pitiful man like you."
The hologram flickered and vanished, leaving only the hum of the device and the silence of the balcony.
Stephone's grip tightened on the railing, fury churning in his chest—until one of the guards broke the silence, pointing upward sharply. "Look!"
Stephone whipped his gaze skyward. From the fractured quilt of clouds above, a massive shadow emerged—a sleek black warship descending like a predator from the heavens.
Jonah froze mid-bite, his fork clattering softly against the plate. The maid's voice was breathless, almost trembling as she clutched the edge of the doorway.
"My lord, look out the window! It's... it's a big black airship!"
Pushing back his chair, Jonah rose sharply, the gravity in her tone forcing his pulse to quicken. He strode toward the tall window beside his desk, each step echoing faintly against the polished floor. Pulling the curtains aside, his eyes widened.
Suspended above the horizon, cutting through the pale afternoon light, loomed a vast silhouette — sleek, angular, and armored like a predator of the skies. The hull shimmered with a deep obsidian sheen, broken only by lines of dimly glowing blue light tracing its form. Massive propulsion engines pulsed at its flanks, and etched into the steel was a stylized dragon crest — the unmistakable emblem of Grivida.
Jonah's jaw tightened. "The Drakon..." he muttered, voice low but heavy. "That's a Grividan warship..."
The maid stepped closer, nervously glancing between him and the dark leviathan drifting closer through the clouds. "What... what would they be doing here?"
Jonah didn't answer at once, his mind already racing. He knew that warship. He knew who commanded it — and if that ship had come to Celtica's skies, it was no casual visit.
The command center of the Drakon hummed with quiet, controlled energy — the low thrum of the engines resonating through the steel floor beneath their boots. Holographic displays floated above the main console, casting pale blue light across the room. The forward viewport stretched wide before them, framing the expanse of the kingdom below as dark clouds swirled in the ship's wake.
In the front row of seats, Zach sat with the calm authority of a man who had already planned every move in this game. To his right, Draven leaned back casually, but his sharp eyes never stopped scanning the tactical readouts. Clover, on the far side, sat stiffly, fingers tapping the armrest in restless anticipation. Between them, Regina and Jareth sat close, their presence a sharp contrast to the stern military atmosphere.
Zach glanced at his goddaughter, his voice low but carrying a steady confidence. "You ready to have the broadcast go out to the entire country?"
Regina's brows drew together, a flicker of hesitation in her eyes. The weight of what was about to happen pressed heavily against her chest — this wasn't just a message. This was a declaration.
Before she could answer, a warm, grounding touch closed over her hand. She turned, finding Jareth's steady gaze.
"It's okay, love," he said softly, his voice quiet enough that only she could hear. "You can do this."
Her lips curved into a small, grateful smile, her nerves easing under the reassurance. She squeezed his hand once, then faced Zach with renewed resolve.
"I'm ready."
Zach's expression softened just slightly before he nodded to the communications officer at the main console. "Patch her through to every frequency. Land, sea, and air."
All across Celtica, every major screen — from towering city billboards to small displays in village squares — suddenly flickered to life. Citizens paused in their daily routines, their eyes drawn to the image that appeared.
Regina sat poised and elegant in the broadcast feed, yet there was an undeniable strength radiating from her. Despite being only fifteen, her presence carried the kind of command that made strangers stop in their tracks.
Her voice was clear and steady as she began to speak.
"People of Celtica, I am the First Crowned Princess and the only heir to the throne — Regina Mikcloud. Please, do not panic. I am aboard this aircraft by choice, under the protection of my godfather, King Zachariah Meyers of Grivida.
I... ran away from home, from my family, alongside my knight, Lord Jareth Ravena, to seek my godfather's help in putting a stop to my father's tyranny toward the crown. He seeks to bring back the old, vile ways of inbreeding. On paper, I was to be wed to a noble boy — but in reality, the arrangement was to him.
He does not deserve to be king. He does not deserve to rule. My father has no heart, no soul. He is nothing more than a disgusting human being.
Celtican Royal Guards! Your duty is to protect the crown, not the man who tarnishes it. Stand with me and help put an end to my father's reign.
I hereby reinstate the Dovahkinn Family, whose rightful claim as Royal Guardians my father dismissed long ago.
Father..." She reached out and took Jareth's hand, her gaze unwavering as he met her eyes with a faint, confident smirk.
"...be ready, because I am not afraid anymore. My phoenix—"
Jareth's grip tightened slightly as he leaned forward, his voice cutting in with cold certainty.
"—and I will put an end to your pathetic regime as king."
The broadcast feed held for a breathless moment before fading to black.
In the palace, the moment the broadcast ended, silence hung in the air like a taut wire. King Stephone stood frozen for a heartbeat, his expression unreadable — and then his face twisted in pure rage. His lips curled back as his knuckles whitened against the balcony railing.
"You dare..." he hissed under his breath, his voice low and venomous.
Several of the royal guards stepped forward, swords drawn. The captain's voice rang out with firm authority, though there was a flicker of hesitation in his eyes.
"King Stephone, by order of the crown, surrender your authority. Stand down!"
Stephone turned slowly, his gaze sweeping over them with dangerous calm. Then, with a sharp, deliberate motion, he activated his quirk.
A dark, oppressive wave of energy rippled from him, coiling through the air like a living shadow. It slammed into the guards' minds, pulling forth their deepest, most crippling fears. Eyes widened in terror; breath came in ragged gasps as each man saw visions no one else could see. Their swords clattered to the marble floor as they fell to their knees, hands trembling, some screaming, others sobbing.
Stephone walked forward without a single glance at the broken soldiers, the echo of his boots striking the floor sharp and cold in the vast hall.
Pathetic.
The massive double doors swung open before him, and without looking back, he strode down the corridor — rage burning in his chest, his mind already plotting his next move.
Stephone's boots pounded across the marble floor as he strode toward the inner halls, fury radiating off him in waves. But before he could reach the safety of his chambers, the sound of armored footsteps thundered from the opposite corridor.
A squad of knights poured into view, weapons drawn, led by a tall, broad-shouldered man in immaculate silver-and-blue armor. His presence was commanding, his voice booming with authority.
"Seize him!" Jonah Ravena's voice cut through the air like a blade. "Make sure you capture the man — and the Parliament! Arrest them all!"
Stephone's eyes narrowed dangerously at the sight of the Grand Knight. "You dare turn against your king, Ravena?"
Before Jonah could answer, a sound unlike any other filled the courtyard beyond the windows — a piercing, powerful cry that echoed like a living flame. Every head turned upward toward the sky.
Out of the rolling clouds above, a blaze of brilliant blue fire streaked through the air, its wings spanning wide in the form of a phoenix. The heat shimmered across the stones as it dove toward the palace grounds, talons extended, before landing with a thunderous impact.
Flames licked upward, swirling around the figure within, and in the blink of an eye the fire collapsed inward — revealing Jareth, standing tall, embers still curling from his white hair and coat. His eyes locked briefly on Stephone before shifting to his father.
Overhead, the deep hum of engines drew closer. Shadows passed over the courtyard as a massive Grividan warship descended through the clouds — The Drakon. Its landing gear extended, the deck panels folding outward as a ramp lowered to the stone courtyard with a heavy clang.
From the mist of steam and dust, three imposing figures emerged first: King Zachariah Meyers, his crimson-gold attire catching the light; Clover in his deep red-trimmed regalia; and Draven, clad in black and crimson. Behind them, stepping with regal poise despite her young age, came Princess Regina Mikcloud.
She moved toward Jonah without hesitation, her silk cloak trailing behind her.
"Ambassador Jonah Ravena." Her voice carried across the courtyard, clear and resolute.
Jonah immediately dropped to one knee, his head bowed low. "Your Highness... I am on your side — and my son's. I know what I did was wrong, but I feared for Jareth's life..." His voice wavered for the first time, genuine remorse in his eyes.
Regina stepped closer, her gaze softening, though the fire of her resolve remained. "Then stand with us now. There is no turning back."
The courtyard was tense, the air thick with the clash of two powerful wills. Soldiers stood frozen, unsure whether to step forward or hold their ground. The afternoon sun glinted off blackened stone still warm from the phoenix's flames.
Zachariah Meyers, King of Grivida, took a deliberate step toward Stephone, his gaze like sharpened steel. "You are a disgrace to every crown that has ever graced this land. Tell me—what could possibly possess you to attempt something so vile... to her?" He gestured subtly toward Regina, who stood at Jareth's side, her emerald cloak swaying in the breeze.
Stephone's lips curled into a humorless laugh. "Not like I was going to do it myself. I had an entire vessel prepared—a body to transfer my soul and quirk into." His eyes gleamed with madness. "She would have been... perfect."
Zach's eyes narrowed dangerously, but before he could speak, Regina stepped forward, voice ringing clear across the courtyard. "Enough, Father. Stand down before you humiliate yourself further."
Stephone's expression darkened into a sneer. "I think I'll punish you first."
In one swift motion, he lifted his arm—revealing a sleek dart gun hidden beneath his sleeve. But before he could fire, the air split with a sharp whoosh.
His arm was gone.
The weapon clattered to the stones as Stephone staggered back, clutching the bloody stump where his forearm had been. His eyes went wide—not at the pain, but at the figure who now stood between him and his intended target.
She was poised and unmoving, her katana still extended, a bead of crimson sliding down its polished steel. Her hair, the color of ice-touched sapphire, was bound elegantly with jeweled pins, and her sharp blue eyes locked onto Stephone with lethal intent.
Zach allowed himself the faintest smirk. "Akasha Dovahkiin... leader of the Dovahkiin family. The legendary ninja herself."
Akasha tilted her blade slightly, letting the blood drip to the ground. Her voice was calm, but it cut sharper than steel. "If I had known something like this was happening, I would have killed you outright—preventing the princess from such a fate. Consider this your first and final warning... no king, Stephone."
The courtyard was silent—save for the slow, steady sound of her footsteps as she closed the distance, each step ringing out like a death knell across the stone.
The moment Regina stepped forward, the air itself seemed to still. Her emerald eyes burned with a supernatural glow, threads of raspberry-red light spilling through her hair like molten fire. The soldiers and knights in the courtyard could feel the weight of her presence—an authority that was not taught, but born.
"I will give you one chance, Father," her voice rang out, calm yet carrying the weight of a storm. "Kneel before me."
Stephone's lip curled in defiance, his voice dripping with contempt. "Never. You should be kneeling to me! I am your king... your father... your god!"
A slow, cold smile spread across Regina's face. "Too bad."
She raised her hand, palm angled toward the ground, and with a sharp downward motion, an invisible force slammed into Stephone. The ground beneath him cracked as if the earth itself bowed to her will. His knees trembled against the crushing pull of her Gravitelekinesis, but he strained to remain upright, his arrogance refusing to bend.
"You are no longer fit to be the rightful ruler," Regina declared, her voice laced with unshakable resolve.
Stephone's eyes burned with both rage and twisted amusement. Then, his lips twisted into a knowing smirk. "Have you ever wondered," he began, his tone turning venomous, "why your mother's quirk lost control? Why she launched herself into the void... exploding into that nebula not far from Earth?"
The color drained from Regina's face, her glowing eyes widening in disbelief. Gasps rippled through the knights. Jareth's fists clenched at his sides, a barely contained inferno burning in his chest.
Zachariah's head snapped toward Stephone, his entire body going rigid. "What did you do to Felica?!" His voice was like a growl from the depths, raw with barely restrained fury.
Stephone's laughter was hoarse, broken by coughs, but the malice in it was unmistakable. "I... injected her... with dark-infected Luminite. The only known type of Luminite."
The words seemed to freeze the courtyard in time. Even the wind stalled. Several knights exchanged horrified glances; Jonah's jaw went slack, his grip tightening on the hilt of his sword. Clover and Draven's eyes narrowed dangerously, both instinctively stepping toward Stephone.
Akasha shifted her stance, her katana lowering slightly, though the cold fire in her gaze only burned brighter. "So you murdered her... in the slowest, cruelest way possible."
Regina's hands began to tremble—not from fear, but from the sheer force of her fury, the gravity around her warping until the very stones beneath Stephone cracked further. Jareth moved to her side, resting a steadying hand over hers, though his own gaze was murderous.
Zach took a step forward, his voice low but resonating with power. "Stephone, for that alone... there will be no throne left for you to sit on."
Zach took one sharp step toward Stephone, rage etched across his face, but Draven's arm shot out, catching him by the chest. "Not now, brother," Draven growled, forcing him back. Clover was already there, gripping Zach's shoulder with iron strength, pulling him further from the blast radius they all knew was coming.
Akasha's eyes narrowed in instant understanding—this wasn't the moment for a clash of swords. She spun on her heel, slicing the air with her voice. "Get Jareth and Jonah out of here—now!" She was already moving, shoving them toward the cover of the courtyard's stone walls.
"All royal knights, hold your positions!" she barked, the commanding tone of a leader who expected to be obeyed without hesitation. "No one approaches the princess!"
The soldiers froze mid-step, their armor clinking in the tense silence that followed.
Regina stood at the epicenter of the courtyard, her body trembling—not from weakness, but from the overwhelming surge of power radiating off her. The once-measured glow of her green eyes had intensified, burning like emerald fire, while streaks of luminous raspberry-red light spilled wildly through her hair, whipping about as if caught in an invisible storm.
The ground around her cracked, stones lifting from the courtyard floor to orbit her in slow, unnatural arcs. The air was heavy, oppressive, as though the very gravity of the world bent to her fury.
Stephone, for the first time in his reign, looked truly afraid. He stumbled back, his boot catching on the uneven stones, and crashed onto the ground. His gaze locked upward, wide and unblinking, as he watched his daughter—no, something far greater—tower over him. The once-commanding timbre of his voice was gone; all that escaped was a sharp, audible gasp.
"Regina..." he whispered, the sound trembling, as if speaking her name might anchor her humanity.
But she didn't move toward him like a daughter. She loomed like judgment itself, and in her eyes was no hesitation, no mercy—only the cold wrath of someone who had endured enough.
The courtyard was still, every breath drawn in anticipation—until Regina's voice cut through the air like a blade of pure malice.
"Die."
It was not screamed, nor shouted, but uttered in a tone so cold and final that it carried the weight of an executioner's sentence. The sound seemed to echo within the bones of everyone present, pulling the temperature of the world down with it.
Stephone's body seized mid-breath. His eyes went wide, his defiance evaporating as the very matter of his being began to betray him. His skin fractured in hairline cracks, the color leeching from his flesh as though life itself were abandoning him. The air shimmered around him in warped waves, each one peeling him apart on a molecular level.
Jareth's eyes widened in horror. "Regina! You must not let yourself be consumed by this side of your quirk!" he shouted, his voice desperate, fighting to reach her through the violent hum of her Taphokinesis.
Jonah stepped forward, hand outstretched, but halted sharply. "Jareth, stop! If you go closer, you'll be caught in the decay!" His voice was urgent, the warning more command than suggestion.
Zach and his brothers backed up further, the oppressive pulse of her quirk pressing against their chests like a physical force.
Draven's lips parted in awe. "Wow... this is something else."
Clover's eyes narrowed, nodding faintly. "Powerful quirk the girl has... frighteningly so."
Stephone's scream split the air—ragged, raw, and short-lived—as his form crumbled away into drifting dust, his crown clattering to the stones with a hollow echo. The very ground beneath Regina blackened and cracked, stone and soil decaying into lifeless fragments under her power.
Regina's knees buckled. She collapsed forward, hands clutching at the ground as a piercing scream tore from her throat, her quirk spiraling out of control. The decay spread faster, creeping toward the surrounding soldiers.
Akasha moved without hesitation, her katana sheathed in one swift motion as she reached into her sleeve and pulled a small, lacquered sphere. With a precise flick of her wrist, she hurled it toward Regina's feet.
The orb struck the ground and burst in a sharp pop, releasing a rolling cloud of shimmering blue smoke that wrapped around the princess like a living shroud.
Within seconds, Regina's body went limp.
Jareth darted forward, catching her before she could hit the stone. His relief was brief, replaced by alarm as he felt the dull, unnerving silence in his own quirk. "What did you hit her with?" His voice was sharp, protective, as he looked up at Akasha.
The ninja knelt, meeting his gaze without flinching. "Luminite ninja ball," she answered. "It calmed her quirk... and sealed it for now. But we also might get her too the medical ward, she is allergic...." She glanced down at Regina's peaceful, unconscious face, her voice softening just slightly. "...I hope she forgives me."
A year had passed since the day Regina's father fell, and the battle for Celtica's crown ended. In that year, the young princess—now Queen Regina Mikcloud—grew into her role with a steady hand and an unshakable will. The weight of the crown never dimmed the warmth in her heart, but it did sharpen her resolve. With her closest allies beside her, the realm began to heal.
It was during the height of spring's bloom that Jareth Ravena proposed. Beneath the blooming boughs of the royal gardens, he went to one knee, his turquoise eyes fixed on hers with a devotion that had survived war, exile, and peril. "Will you bind your life to mine—not just as your knight, but as the one who will stand with you in all things?" he asked. Her answer was a radiant, breathless "yes."
They remained engaged until their twentieth year, using those seasons to strengthen their bond and restore Celtica's place in the world. During this time, Avatora was created.
When the wedding day finally came, it was to be held in the oldest royal tradition—a Celtican pagan handfasting. The guest list was small by royal standards; only current members of the royal families of Celtica and their closest allies were permitted to attend. Still, the entire nation would witness it through the broadcast, as all royal weddings must be.
The sacred grove chosen for the ceremony was a place steeped in legend, where the ancient trees themselves were said to remember the vows of rulers past. Towering redwoods formed the cathedral walls, their trunks entwined with ivy and garlands of white blooms. Crystal chandeliers hung from the wooden arches, scattering gold light into the dappled green.
Regina entered, her steps silent upon the petal-strewn aisle. Her gown of silver-threaded lace and gossamer silk trailed behind her like mist. Raspberry-red hair cascaded down her back in shimmering waves, crowned with a circlet of pearls and silver vines. She carried no bouquet; her only adornments were the jewels of her lineage and the quiet fire in her green eyes.
Jareth stood at the altar in black and gold formal dress, his epaulets catching the light like embers on frost. The wind tousled his white hair, but nothing could shift the steady, almost reverent smile on his face as she approached.
The Grand Pagan Priestess welcomed the gathering. "Welcome! Everyone is gathered today under the watchful eyes of the Gods and Goddesses, and the loving presence of friends and family, to witness a sacred union, a binding of hearts and souls in the ancient tradition of Handfasting..."
As the ceremony cords—braided in gold, silver, and deep crimson—were wrapped around their joined hands, she continued, "Like the threads woven into these cords, your paths now intertwine, creating a tapestry rich with shared experiences and dreams. Now speak your vows."
Jareth's voice was low but unshakable. "You are Blood of my Blood, and Bone of my Bone. I give you my Body, that we Two might be One. I give you my Spirit, 'til our Life shall be Done."
Regina's voice carried the warmth of love and the steel of a queen. "You are Blood of my Blood, and Bone of my Bone. I give you my Body, that we Two might be One. I give you my Spirit, 'til our Life shall be Done."
The priestess smiled. "By the power vested in me, and the divine forces of nature, I now pronounce you lawfully and spiritually wed. You may seal this union with a kiss."
Jareth lifted her bound hands to his lips before leaning in to kiss her. Cheers rose from the grove, the chime of ceremonial bells mingling with the whisper of the forest as the gods bore witness to the new Queen and King of Celtica, united in both love and rule.
Notes:
YES THIS IS THE LAST PAST CHAPTER!
Chapter 22
Notes:
Warning: Sexual scene in middle of chapter between Touya and Jess!
Chapter Text
The mindscape felt heavier now, as though the lingering weight of Jareth’s story had seeped into the foggy air itself. The faint shimmer of blue light cast across the ground from somewhere unseen made their shadows stretch long and thin.
Jess blinked, still processing everything she had heard. “Wow… I guess King Stephone’s regime was told to us differently…” Her voice carried both disbelief and a quiet bitterness, the history she thought she knew now feeling like a crafted lie.
Jareth gave a single, slow nod, his expression shadowed by memories. “After Regina dusted him, it was covered up. What followed was even more disturbing. Not long after his… end, a science lab was discovered—hidden, abandoned. The kind of place you could feel was wrong the second you stepped inside. And after our wedding…” his gaze dropped for a moment, “…that’s when All For One made himself known. That’s when he tried to take her.”
The tone in his voice darkened, each word weighted with the venom of the memory.
Jess and Touya both frowned at him, sharing an unspoken tension.
“So… that’s why Jess was punished?” Touya’s voice was low, his mismatched eyes narrowing as he leaned forward slightly. “Because of what her family did to him…? Which, honestly, I have no clue about.”
Jareth’s gaze lifted to them, steady but laced with quiet rage. “He tried to steal her quirk. And it ended badly for him.” His hand flexed unconsciously, as though recalling the moment. “It almost killed him—would have, if he hadn’t teleported away before the damage finished the job.”
Jess reached out without thinking, her fingers curling gently around Jareth’s hand. The warmth of the gesture made him blink, but a faint smirk tugged at his lips. Across from them, Touya bit his lip, watching the exchange.
“Can I have your French onion beef stew recipe?” Jess asked, tilting her head slightly, almost as if she were trying to lighten the mood after everything they’d just discussed.
Jareth’s eyes widened at her request before a low chuckle escaped him. “Oh, you are just too cute,” he said, shaking his head. “The memory is in with Touya.”
Before Jess could respond, Phi suddenly leapt into the air with a loud, trilling chirp that seemed to vibrate through the mindscape.
Regina groaned, sitting up with her hair falling loosely over one shoulder. “Why is it so loud…?” she muttered.
Jareth chuckled. “Phi’s telling us it’s almost time for Touya to be reborn from the flames.”
Regina hummed faintly as she stood, stretching her shoulders. “Come, Jess. We cannot be here when that happens.”
Jess frowned but rose to her feet. Touya, however, didn’t like the sound of that at all. He stood abruptly. “Wait…”
Regina lifted a hand, palm outward, halting him with a steady look. “Hush. Our souls cannot be in here when Phi does his thing—it would kill us.”
Touya’s eyes widened at the bluntness of the statement. Jess still looked concerned, but her expression softened into a smile as she turned to him. “Don’t worry, Touya. I’ll be by your side when you wake up. I promise.”
Before she could step away, Touya pulled her into his arms and kissed her. She giggled softly against his lips before returning the kiss.
“Promise?” he murmured, his voice low.
“Promise,” she replied.
Regina opened the nearby door, revealing an expanse beyond that shimmered into a green-hued horizon—Jess’s own mindscape.
“Come, Jess,” Regina called over her shoulder. Then, with a knowing smirk toward Jareth, she added, “Bye, my love.”
Jareth returned her look with one of his own. “Bye, my love… and goodbye, adorable snuggle Jess.”
Jess flushed crimson, her embarrassment sending her into a quick retreat through the doorway. Regina followed with a small, satisfied smile, closing the door behind them.
Touya growled under his breath at the exchange, but Jareth only smirked wider.
Jess’s lashes fluttered as she slowly came to, her vision hazy before the familiar sterile light of the medical room sharpened into view. She realized she was lying on her side, the faint rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor filling the quiet.
Touya was right there beside her, hooked up to the machines, the pale rise and fall of his chest reassuring but still far too fragile for her liking. His left arm was still gone, the bandages a stark reminder of everything they’d been through. He hadn’t yet been placed in the phoenix chamber—meaning he still looked pale, worn, and far from the man she knew.
The door opened with a soft hiss, breaking her thoughts. Frank stepped inside, his familiar calm presence bringing an almost instant sense of reassurance. A small smile tugged at his lips. “Princess… you’re awake.”
Jess pushed herself up, her silk sleeve slipping slightly down her arm. “Yes. Is it time?”
Frank nodded once, his expression sobering. “We cannot wait any longer.”
Jess turned back to Touya, her eyes lingering on his face. She leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, her hand brushing lightly along his jaw. “Let’s go… only me. I don’t want anyone else with us. This is a private rebirth—with Phi.”
Frank’s brows rose slightly at that, though a warm smile followed. “Just like Regina,” he said softly. “She never allowed anyone but herself in… until I was basically adopted by them and allowed to sit in.”
Jess’s lips curved into a faint smile at the thought, before her expression steadied with quiet resolve.
Frank glanced back toward the doorway and raised his voice. “Nurses—it’s time.”
Jess walked out alongside the nurses, who carefully wheeled Touya out of the room on a secure gurney. Frank followed close behind, his steady presence a quiet reassurance. The moment they entered the main hall, Touya’s family stood from their seats, every set of eyes fixed on him.
Natsuo was the first to step forward, his brow furrowed in concern. “Jess…”
She turned toward him, her expression soft but resolute. “Natsuo, from this point—” She glanced past him to the rest of Touya’s family. “—you cannot come with. This will be a private Phoenix rebirth.”
Enji’s jaw tightened, the disapproval in his eyes obvious, but before he could speak, Rei placed a gentle hand over her heart and smiled faintly. “I understand.”
Fuyumi lowered her gaze, nodding without a word.
Shoto offered a small, supportive smile. “Alright, Jess.”
Geten exhaled slowly, his usual stoic demeanor holding steady. “Sure thing, Princess.”
Natsuo stepped closer, giving her shoulder a firm, reassuring pat. “Let us know how it went, yeah?”
Jess’s lips curved into a small smile. “I will.”
Without another word, she turned and continued forward, the nurses guiding Touya ahead. Frank fell into step beside her as they made their way toward the isolated chamber room, where the Phoenix rebirth would begin.
They entered the chamber room, the air inside cool and faintly sterile, illuminated by the soft glow of the containment systems. The large, cylindrical Phoenix chamber stood at the center—its fireproof, NASA-grade material gleaming under the overhead lights.
The doctors and nurses moved with practiced precision, swiftly unhooking Touya from the medical machines. Wires, tubes, and monitors were removed one by one until nothing tethered him to the outside world. Frank stepped forward, his movements deliberate as he removed the Luminite band from Touya’s wrist, the faint metallic hum of its quirk-suppressing energy dying away.
Together, they carefully lifted him into the chamber. The door sealed with a smooth, airtight hiss, the reinforced glass front locking securely into place.
Jess stepped over to the chair set aside for her—her seat as witness to this rebirth. She lowered herself into it, her eyes never leaving the still figure inside. Slowly, she lifted her gaze to the gathered staff.
“Leave.”
There was no hesitation. Every doctor and nurse bowed their heads in respect before quietly filing out, the door sliding shut behind them.
Jess turned back toward the chamber, pressing her palm gently to the glass. “Okay, Phi, do your thing.”
It was as if the little phoenix had been waiting for the words. In an instant, Touya’s body was engulfed in a surge of blue flames, pure and unyielding, the heat dancing across the chamber’s protective surface.
Then came the sound—a piercing, almost otherworldly shriek, like a phoenix’s cry reborn through fire. It echoed not just inside the chamber, but beyond the room itself, ringing through the halls as though declaring his return to the world.
yes lets keep going! the re-birth will happen for a good four minutes until it will stop. and nothing but ash will remain the chamber vacuum will active and suck up the ashes revealing a very naked Touya, completely brand new. But the Chamber will actively have two bottoms for him, slipping boxers and pajama bottoms.
The rebirth raged on for four long minutes, the Phoenix flames swirling within the chamber like a storm of living fire. The heat shimmered against the reinforced glass, casting flickering light across Jess’s face as she watched in breathless silence. The phoenix’s cry had long faded into an almost rhythmic hum, the sound of something ancient and powerful remaking itself.
Then—abrupt stillness.
The flames vanished as if swallowed by the air, leaving behind nothing but a small mound of fine ash. The chamber’s systems activated automatically, a low hiss filling the room as a vacuum swept through, collecting and clearing the remnants of the old body.
When the air stilled again, he was there.
A very naked Touya sat where the ashes had been moments ago, his skin unmarked and flawless, every trace of his former injuries gone. The chamber’s auto-dressing mechanism deployed instantly—two narrow slots opening from the sides to deliver soft black boxers and loose pajama bottoms, sliding them neatly into place.
Jess couldn’t help but blink in surprise. His piercings were all still there—his familiar earrings and the triple nose studs gleaming faintly under the chamber’s lights. A rush of heat crept into her cheeks as she caught herself wondering, perhaps a bit too curiously, if the other piercings he once had were still there as well.
Before the thought could linger, movement caught her eye.
His eyelids fluttered open, pale lashes lifting to reveal those vivid, freshly renewed eyes.
Jess was already on her feet, rushing to the control panel and hitting the release. The chamber door slid back with a quiet mechanical hum, the end of the unit retracting to grant access.
She was at his side in an instant, leaning toward him. “Touya?”
He blinked a couple of times, his lips curving into a familiar, almost lazy smirk.
“Hey, gorgeous.”
Touya pushed himself upright, the movement smooth and deliberate, before swinging his legs over the edge of the chamber and standing. His bare feet touched the cool floor, and in the next heartbeat, his hands were on either side of Jess’s face.
Without a word, he leaned down and captured her lips in a deep, searing kiss. Jess hummed softly against him, the sound carrying warmth and relief, her arms instinctively sliding up to wrap around his neck and pull him closer. The world outside that moment ceased to exist—there was only the press of him against her, the faint taste of heat still clinging to him from the rebirth flames. Dabi was reborn as Touya once again.
Beyond the sealed room, Frank stood at the small monitoring station, eyes narrowing at the live feed on the screen. With a quiet exhale, he reached forward and flicked the switch, the display going dark.
The kiss is intense, his teeth nipping at her bottom lip, tongue seeking entrance. She gasps against him, allowing him to take control, and their tongues battle.
The kiss finally broke, the need for air forcing them apart.
Jess stared up at him, her face flushed, her voice soft.
“Welcome back, Touya Todoroki…”
His eyes gleamed, mismatched irises flashing with the intensity of a phoenix reborn.
He pressed his forehead against hers, his lips hovering close.
The words were a quiet, but heated whisper. "Me and you... against the wall." he breathes out a luftful tone and grin. Jess flushed but smiles at him. "Right here in this room?" she steps back and slips out of her shoes making him watch her.
"Yes.." he growls out. "Now.."
She gives him a look of amusement. "What's the magic word?"
"Please." he says and reaches for her, pulling her flush against his body. He kisses her with hunger.
The kiss is intense, his teeth nipping at her bottom lip, tongue seeking entrance. She gasps against him, allowing him to take control, and their tongues battle. Clothes started to scatter everwhere and Soon Jess was up against the wall with Touya holding her up with him postioned at her enterance.
"Make love to me touya.." Jess purrs at him.
"With Pleasure." he replies and pushes into her. She moans out and wraps her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck, her hands sliding into his hair. They start to move together.
"Ahh.." she moans.
"Oh Jess..." He groans.
"Don't stop.."
"Not planning on it." he groans out thrusting up into her, into her womb making her moan out so loudly. He groans into her neck, sucking at her pulse.
"Ah..Touya!" She cries out.
"Jess...God I've missed you." he growls out.
"Oh God..Ahh.." she moans.
"Fuck." he says and slams harder into her, making her scream out in pleasure.
"Touya!" She calls out.
"Come for me baby.."
"AHH!" She moans out loudly as he thrust into her only tp pull out and she squirted right here, her body was shivering in pleasure "Fuck... you made me..." Touya grins and thrusts back into her.
"AHH!" She moans out loudly. "Oh fuck yes..." she moans and holds onto him tightly. "Harder, Touya."
"Ah...shit." he moans and slams into her harder, her head hitting the wall making her moan out.
"Oh god, touya." she moans out.
"Ah Fuck. He moans out and pushed away from the wall but she was holding up to him. and hs trhusts into her was so hard, so deep and so fast the sound of skin slapping against echoed int he room.
"Yes!" she moans out loudly.
"Ahh."
"Fuck..I'm close.. again" she says and he groans out and slams harder and faster and deeper into her. Touya grins "Don't cum yet baby." he grunts.
"Ah..fuck." she moans out. "Ah!"
"Just wait... a little longer"
"AH! Fuck, touya!" she screams out.
"Wait just a little longer"
"OH FUCK." she cries out, and he groans as he backs up to the chair and sat down with her on his lap and his cock still deep in her "Ride me baby." he groans out.
"Fuuuuuuck!" she cries out as she rides him hard and fast and he was meeting her thrust. "TOUYA."
"OH GOD." he moans out.
"Touya!" She cried out.
"Fuck..Jess..cum now."
"AHHH!" She cries out and cum hard, and slips him out of her and squirting hard again. She shivers again. Touya grins taking his cock and rubbing her clit which makes her squirt and shiver "Touya... " she moans and slids down on him, taking his cock and the five rows of his jacob ladder "Touya! Touya!." She moans and he grunts reaching behind her and crabbing her ass cheeks and thrusts up making her. She was dancing him his cock with pleasure in her eyes. "Fuck... Jess.. I'm gonna cum..." Jess moans loudly "In my touya.. in my womb!" He groans and pulls her down hard and slams his hips up into her. Jess screams out and her pussy convulse and was milking his cock, he groans and his cock swells and twitch and shoots hot white streams of seed.
"Oh, Fuck, JESS." he grunts out and fills her womb.
Jess let out a breathless hum, resting heavily against Touya as their foreheads touched, both of them still catching their breath. A faint smile tugged at her lips.
“Second time… and still just as incredible…” she murmured.
Touya grinned, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face before pressing a lingering kiss to her lips.
“And that,” he said with a playful spark in his voice, “was just round one.”
She laughed softly, shaking her head. “You just came back from the flames, you should take it easy… can’t you wait until later?”
He smirked at her teasing tone. “Maybe… but I know exactly where I’d rather be later.”
Her cheeks warmed. “You’re impossible…”
Touya’s expression softened suddenly, and he gently cupped her face. “Jess… marry me.”
Her eyes widened. “What?”
“Marry me,” he repeated firmly, leaning in to kiss her again—deep, earnest, and full of meaning. “Jess, will you marry me?”
She felt her heart flutter, her earlier surprise melting into a smile. “Yes… I’ll marry you, Touya.”
His grin widened. “Thank you. I swear, you won’t regret it.”
“I know I won’t,” she replied with a quiet laugh.
Touya tilted his head curiously. “So… does that make me a prince the moment we marry?”
Jess gave a small nod. “Yup.”
A sudden voice crackled from the room’s speaker. “Princess, Sir Touya—if you’re ready, please use the adjoining shower. The room will be cleaned while you freshen up. Fresh clothes will be prepared for you both.”
Jess chuckled and stood, offering him her hand. “Come on, let’s get cleaned up.”
Touya took her hand, smiling warmly. “Sounds perfect.”
Touya’s family was gathered in the main waiting room. Dawn sat with her nephew Yuki, both quietly keeping watch while her brother, Jetter—the King—had stepped out to speak with the remaining members of the Liberation Front. Geten lounged nearby, still seated with them, munching on strawberry Pocky with casual contentment.
Shoto was on the floor, playing with Anubis using a cat teaser. The silver Egyptian Mau batted at it eagerly, enjoying himself like there was no tomorrow. Then, suddenly, Anubis froze mid-play, his gold eyes locking on something down the hallway, ears twitching sharply.
Shoto blinked at the cat’s sudden shift, following his gaze—and then his own eyes widened. The cat teaser slipped from his hand and hit the floor with a soft clatter. The others glanced at Shoto in confusion—until they heard it. A low, warm laugh echoed from the hall, unmistakably Touya’s. Heads turned just in time to see him and Jess turning the corner.
Natsuo’s jaw went slack, his eyes widening in shock. His big brother looked… different—handsome in a way that carried a sharp, confident edge. Both he and Jess seemed to be glowing—not literally, but in that unmistakable way that told Natsuo exactly what had happened between them.
Jess wore a fitted heavy metal band shirt, a black cardigan draped loosely over her shoulders, black ripped shorts, and matching black flats. Beside her, Touya was dressed in a heavy metal band shirt as well, paired with black ripped pants and a black cardigan patterned with a subtle blue flame design.
“Damn… they both totally did,” Natsuo muttered under his breath.
Rei’s hand shot out, smacking his arm lightly but firmly enough to make him shut up. Enji and Fuyumi both frowned at the remark, their expressions unreadable.
Anubis, however, wasted no time. The silver cat darted across the room toward them, meowing eagerly. Jess crouched down with a warm smile.
“Hey there, bud,” she greeted, holding her arms open.
Touya crouched beside her, his eyes softening as he looked at the sleek feline. “And who is this gorgeous creature?”
Jess giggled, running her hand down Anubis’s shimmering silver coat. “This is my cat, Anubis. He’s my silver Egyptian Mau.”
Touya chuckled softly, reaching out to run his fingers along Anubis’s sleek silver fur. The cat immediately leaned into his touch, purring with such deep contentment that it made Rei’s smile brighten noticeably.
From their seats, Dawn and Yuki both rose and approached. “Touya, it’s good to see you again,” Dawn said warmly.
Touya straightened to his full height, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Hello, future mother-in-law.”
Gasps rippled through the room. Jess, still holding Anubis in her arms, flushed a deep red. “H-He asked me to marry him… and I said yes…” she admitted, her voice small but full of shy happiness.
Yuki’s grin was immediate and wide. “Oh, cuss yes! You have to let me design your wedding dress! Is it gonna be a gothic wedding or pagan? Oooo! Touya totally looks like a goth, emo, punkish boy.”
Touya’s grin turned playful. “Tuck yeah I am.”
Natsuo broke into laughter as he stepped forward, giving his brother a hearty smack on the back. “Well, congrats, big brother!”
Shoto, still a little stunned, nodded with a faint smile. “Congrats, Touya-nii.”
Rei’s face lit up with pure joy. “When am I going to expect to be a grandma?”
The question made every pair of eyes in the room widen.
Fuyumi bit her lip but managed a small, sincere smile. “Congrats, big brother.”
Touya’s gaze lingered on her for a moment, his expression softening briefly—until his attention shifted. His eyes narrowed as they locked on Enji, who was staring at him wide-eyed.
“Hey, Dad… how’s it going?”
The grin that followed was not warm. It was the slow, sharp-edged kind that belonged to predators—and it made Enji stiffen instantly. It was the Hannibal Lecter grin, and the message in it was crystal clear.
Dawn let out a tired sigh and rubbed her temples. “Frank, take Enji back to his house. He’s still under house arrest and suspended from hero duty until further notice.”
Frank gave a curt nod, stepping forward without hesitation. He took hold of Enji’s arm firmly—not rough, but with the kind of strength that made it clear there was no room for argument—and began to lead him away.
Touya grinned wickedly and gave an exaggerated wave. “Bye, old man! Oh—and you’re not invited to the wedding!”
Jess couldn’t help but giggle at that, but her expression softened as she glanced at Touya. “I miss our hideout…”
Touya turned toward her instantly. “Hun, you wanna go back to the bunker?”
Jess nodded hopefully. “Yes… can we bring Anubis?”
Dawn shook her head gently. “Jess, honey, you need to stay here.”
Touya stepped over, cupping her cheek in one warm hand. “Maybe later, okay? The bunker’s not going anywhere.” He turned to the rest of the group—and then his gaze landed on Geten. A smirk tugged at his lips. “Ah, Frost Princess is still here. Thanks for helping us.”
Geten’s face went red as he stood up, clutching his box of pocky like a shield. “Shut up, you burned piece of flesh!”
Touya laughed loudly, leaning back on his heels. “I’m not that anymore, Ice Princess.”
The insult made Geten bristle even more, his glare sharp enough to cut glass. That only made Natsuo snort and break into laughter.
Shoto was biting back a grin, his hand covering his mouth, while Rei’s eyes narrowed in warning. “Boys—enough.”
The warm lighting of the family penthouse cast a cozy glow over the living room. Touya’s family and Jess’s side were scattered around, lounging comfortably. Rei sat beside Fuyumi, chatting quietly, while Natsuo leaned back in an armchair, smirking at something on his phone. Jess was curled up on the couch next to her mother, Dawn, while Yuki idly scrolled through dress sketches on a tablet.
From the kitchen came the sound of running water and the faint clatter of utensils. Frank had returned and was already busy preparing dinner. Touya wandered in, hands in his pockets, and leaned against the doorway. His eyes narrowed at the sight of the large crate on the counter.
“I don’t like fish…” he muttered.
Frank looked up from the crate of lobsters, one eyebrow raised. “Lobster is not a fish, Sir Touya.”
Touya blinked, as if Frank had just told him the sky was green. “Of course it is! I won’t eat it!”
In the living room, Natsuo snorted. “He still hates fish.”
Rei smiled gently. “It’s not fish, hunny.”
Touya looked back toward her, frowning. “Mom, it is!”
Jess chuckled from the couch, shaking her head. “Touya, love… lobsters are crustaceans, not fish.”
Avatora’s holographic interface shimmered into view, her voice chiming in over the penthouse intercom. “Correct, Lord Touya. Lobster refers to various marine crustaceans, primarily members of the families Nephropidae (also known as Homaridae) and Scyllaridae. These are characterized by long bodies, muscular tails, and five pairs of legs, with the first pair often having large claws. They are highly valued as seafood and are economically important in coastal regions. They are not fish.”
Touya rolled his eyes. “Thank you, Avatora, for the history lesson.”
“You are welcome, Sir Touya,” Avatora replied cheerfully.
Shoto blinked from where he sat on the floor playing with Anubis. “Why does everyone keep calling him ‘Sir,’ like he’s a knight…?”
Jess tilted her head, a small smile tugging at her lips. “My uncle probably gave him a title and didn’t tell us.”
Dawn hummed thoughtfully. “Most likely a knighthood will be done in the day’s time.”
Dawn hummed thoughtfully, glancing toward the kitchen before calling out, “Frank, what are you making for dinner?”
From beyond the doorway, Frank’s deep, confident voice carried through as he arranged the ingredients on the counter. “Succulent lobster tails, baked in a hot oven to perfection, paired with perfectly cooked ribeye steak,” he explained, his tone matter-of-fact but rich with culinary pride. “I’ll finish it with a garlicky herbed butter to tie everything together. We’ll serve it with a glass of wine, some crisp green beans, and roasted potatoes. The best surf and turf dinner, Your Highness.”
Dawn’s lips curved into a warm smile, her tone teasing as she turned back toward Touya. “See, Touya? It’s not just lobster. There’s also steak.”
Touya huffed dramatically, clearly unwilling to admit defeat, but he didn’t protest further. Instead, he crossed the room, sinking down onto the couch beside Jess and pulling her snugly into his side. She smiled, leaning into him without hesitation, her head resting against his shoulder. His arm tightened protectively around her, and the subtle contentment on his face spoke louder than words.
A soft chime sounded from Avatora, her smooth synthetic voice echoing across the penthouse. “Princess Dawn, the second two family members are here—with a plus one.”
Dawn inclined her head slightly. “Thank you, Avatora.”
The sound of the front door unlocking and swinging open reached them next, followed by familiar voices filtering into the air. Shoto’s ears seemed to perk before his expression shifted, recognition lighting his features at the sound of his boyfriend’s voice.
Stepping into the room first, Inko smiled warmly. “Inko! What a lovely surprise,” Dawn greeted, rising slightly from her seat.
“Hello, Dawn,” Inko chuckled, returning the warmth in kind.
Izuku followed close behind, his expression bright as he waved. “Auntie Dawn! And hey, cousins,” he greeted, directing the wave toward Jess and Yuki.
“Hey, Izuku,” Jess and Yuki chimed back, their smiles easy and familiar.
But before anyone could continue the exchange, a sudden burst of movement came from behind Izuku. Someone darted past him, and in a flash, a figure practically launched at Touya.
“Dabi-kun!”
Touya’s eyes flew wide as Himiko Toga collided with him, wrapping her arms tightly around his frame. “What the fuck! Toga, get off me, you crazy psycho!” he barked, instinctively trying to pry her off.
Izuku stepped in quickly, his hands gentle but firm as he eased her back. “Toga, come on,” he said with the weary patience of someone used to mediating her chaos.
Toga only giggled in response, unbothered by Touya’s outburst. “Wow, look at you! You look like some handsome Disney prince who just walked out of a storybook!”
A faint flush colored Touya’s cheeks, though his narrowed eyes made it clear he wasn’t about to thank her for the comment. “…So, how’s U.A.?” he muttered, almost begrudgingly.
Toga beamed, rocking back on her heels. “Fun! I finally got my own dorm room!”
Izuku sighed good-naturedly, adding in a voice full of mild exasperation, “It’s covered in pink, kawaii, regular Lolita, and some goth Lolita décor… and more plushies than I can count.”
Touya let out a low groan, dragging a hand down his face. “Of course her room is decked out…” His voice was dripping with resignation, though the faint curl of his lip betrayed a smirk he was trying to hide. “I need a drink…” His eyes wandered across the room until they landed on a sleek, modern wet bar tucked into the corner—its polished woodwork and backlit shelves gleaming invitingly. Without another word, he pushed himself up from the couch and strode over, curiosity and mild determination in his gait.
Natsuo caught sight of where his older brother was heading and immediately grinned, trailing after him like a cat stalking something shiny. “You gonna make me a drink, Touya-nii?” His tone was light, teasing, but there was an unmistakable eagerness in it.
Touya paused, halfway through surveying the neatly arranged bottles and glassware. He arched an eyebrow at Natsuo, his mouth curling into a slow smirk. “Huh? Who says I’m making you one?” The flat yet mocking delivery made Natsuo gasp theatrically, pressing a hand to his chest as though his heart had just been betrayed.
From the couch, Jess chuckled softly at the sibling banter, shaking her head at how quickly the two reverted to playful jabs. Rei, however, just smiled faintly and lifted her voice over the laughter. “Touya, can you make me my favorite?”
Touya glanced over his shoulder at her, his expression softening slightly. “Mhmm… the Snowflake?” He looked back at the bar, scanning the bottles with a faint hum. “Let’s see if they’ve got the right stuff here…” His fingers began to trail along the necks of the bottles, eyes narrowing in concentration as he started mentally piecing together the drink in his head. The warm amber glow from the pendant lights above the bar reflected in the glass, casting a subtle shimmer over the scene.
Touya stood at the sleek wet bar, rolling his shoulders like a man preparing for battle. The polished wood gleamed under the pendant lights, reflecting the rich, earthy tones of the room. Bottles lined the back shelves in perfect rows, their labels catching soft glints of amber and sapphire, and the faint scent of citrus and aged liquor drifted in the air.
Everyone in the family room turned their attention toward him—some curious, others amused. Rei leaned forward slightly, a fond smile on her face as she watched her son sift through bottles and mixers with surprising precision. “The Snowflake,” she’d said, and Touya clearly knew exactly what she meant. His hands moved with practiced ease: a crystal tumbler was set on the counter, its rim lightly moistened before being dipped into a fine sugar garnish. He measured out the pale blue liqueur with care, the liquid catching the light like captured ice, then layered in cream until the colors swirled together like a winter sky. A delicate shake, a slow pour, and the drink settled into a frosted gradient that seemed almost too pretty to drink.
Natsuo leaned against the counter with a smug grin, clearly trying to get a free drink out of the situation, while Shoto had a more reserved curiosity, quietly impressed by Touya’s skill. Jess, snuggled against the armrest, smiled warmly—watching him was like seeing another piece of the man beneath the scarred exterior. Even Avatora’s voice chimed in softly from the ceiling speakers, as though observing a ceremonial act.
With a final touch, Touya slid the glass across the polished surface toward Rei. The Snowflake cocktail glimmered against the warm wood, its sugar-crystal rim catching the light like frost in morning sun. Rei accepted it with a soft nod, her eyes warm with quiet appreciation. “Perfect, as always,” she murmured. Touya only smirked in reply, but the corner of his mouth betrayed the faintest hint of pride.
Fuyumi drifted closer to the bar, her curiosity piqued by the bright, icy blue drink in her mother’s hand. Rei noticed her and, with a small smile, lifted the glass toward her eldest daughter. “Go ahead, try it.”
Fuyumi took the tumbler carefully, bringing it to her lips. The moment the velvety, cool sweetness touched her tongue, her eyes widened in genuine surprise. “I…” she started, but her voice faltered, and instead of finishing, she set the glass down and slid onto the stool beside Rei, still processing the flavor.
Natsuo laughed softly from his place near the counter. “You never once got the recipe right, Fuyumi. Only Touya could nail it—he had this down at, what, twelve? Thirteen? And now—” he gave a half-smirk, gesturing toward his brother—“at twenty-four, he’s still the only one who can pull it off.”
Jess leaned back against the sofa cushions, grinning warmly. “You’ve been good in the kitchen since you were a kid. Now you’re mixing drinks like a pro too. Oooo, multi-talented.”
From her seat, Toga perked up, resting her chin in her hands with a sly grin. “Dabi-kun learned a few recipes from Kurogiri too, didn’t you?”
That made Dawn pause in thought before she hummed casually. “Speaking of, he’s here, in the medicinal wing.”
Touya and Toga both turned sharply, eyes wide in unison. Toga was the first to find her voice. “Mama Kurogiri is here?”
Izuku, sitting on the arm of a chair, leaned forward. “Wait—he’s not in the detention center?”
Dawn shook her head. “After placing a luminary band on him, the purple smoke vanished, revealing his real face. He’s a fully functional human Nomu—built from a deceased hero student. He remembers everything from before… from his time alive.”
Toga’s voice softened, and she sniffled faintly. “Can we… see him?”
Dawn’s expression warmed, her voice gentle. “Tomorrow.”
Dinner was a warm, lively affair in the family penthouse. The long dining table was set to perfection—polished silverware gleamed under the soft chandelier light, crystal glasses caught the glow, and the aroma of Frank’s carefully prepared surf-and-turf spread drifted through the air, making stomachs growl.
Frank emerged from the kitchen carrying the first plates, placing before each guest a perfectly seared ribeye, its crust glistening with a sprinkle of coarse salt and minced roasted garlic. Beside it rested a split lobster tail, the tender meat topped with a golden, garlicky herb butter, releasing an intoxicating fragrance. Roasted baby potatoes glistened under a light parsley garnish, and crisp green beans added a splash of color to the plates. The scent alone was enough to make Touya’s earlier complaints about lobster vanish—though he still eyed it with a mix of skepticism and curiosity.
Blue raspberry lemonades and chilled glasses of wine were passed around, their frosty surfaces beading with condensation. The bright blue drinks drew smiles from Toga and Yuki, who clinked glasses playfully before taking sips. Rei’s Snowflake cocktail sat beside her plate, its icy hue almost matching her serene smile.
Conversations overlapped across the table. Shoto quietly murmured to his boyfriend, who sat beside him, while Inko and Dawn exchanged warm, familiar words about family and the hectic life in the city. Natsuo teased Touya under his breath, earning an eye-roll and smirk in return. Jess sat tucked against Touya’s side, her plate untouched for a moment as she absently scratched Anubis—now curled up contentedly in her lap, golden eyes half-lidded.
It was a rare moment—everyone gathered in one place, the air filled with a blend of laughter, teasing, and the clinking of cutlery. For a family that had weathered so much, this meal felt like a small, fragile piece of peace.
In the pristine quiet of the medical wing, the soft hum of machinery blended with the faint scent of antiseptic. Oboro Shirakumo—better known to many as Kurogiri—was propped upright against the sleek white pillows, his form far removed from the swirling mist that once cloaked him. His eyes were fixed on the wall-mounted television, the light from the screen casting a pale glow across his features. He clicked slowly through the channels with the remote, expression unreadable, until his thumb paused mid-motion. A familiar tune floated from the speakers—an anime he hadn’t seen since before his transformation. For a moment, the years melted away, and the corners of his lips lifted in the smallest of smiles. He left it on, letting the vibrant animation and cheerful voices fill the sterile room.
A knock interrupted the moment. “Come in…?” he called, his voice tinged with uncertainty.
The sliding door eased open, and his eyes widened. Stepping through was Shota Aizawa, clad in his usual black, with Hizashi Yamada right behind, energy barely contained. And behind them, two younger figures followed—Hitoshi Shinsō and a small, wide-eyed Eri clutching her stuffed toy.
Aizawa crossed the room and took the chair at his bedside. “Oboro…” His voice was steady, but there was a softness in it that few ever heard.
Oboro’s lips trembled faintly. “Shota… and for god’s sake… Yamada, don’t yell.”
Hizashi pouted dramatically but smirked all the same. “It’s good to see you, man. Oh—these are our wards.”
Shinsō gave a casual, “Yo,” while Eri blinked up at him with her sweet, tentative smile. “Hello…! Shota still has your orange tabby.”
Oboro’s brows lifted. “You still have Ginger…? She’s gotta be getting old now.”
Aizawa gave the barest hint of a smile. “She is. Still thinks she owns the house, though.”
The warmth in the room was quiet, unspoken—but for the first time in years, Oboro felt a sliver of the life he thought he’d lost.
Chapter 23
Notes:
Heart of Flames is 2 chapters away of being completed! After this story I will posting another MHA story but that story will only be available on here. As it's seprate part from my friends story which. It's called To Touch The Unreachable by Vonnie027. My part will called, To Touch The Unreachable: Dabi's Chapter. Once she's done with Dabi's Chapter, I will contuine with Dabi's chapter. Of course I wont write until my current MHA story is finished. This is another What If: between Dabi and Jess lol Each Thursday she uploads a new chapter, right know she has 3 chapters out and the 4th will be About Dabi.
Chapter Text
Deep beneath the earth, buried within the rusted skeleton of an abandoned military bunker, the air was thick with the faint hum of outdated machinery. Dust clung to the low, reinforced ceilings, and faint drips of condensation echoed through the cavernous space. The laboratory at its core was still alive in its own way — clusters of flickering monitors threw pale light across walls of corroded steel, and the sickly purple glow of stasis tanks bathed the room in an otherworldly haze.
Kyudai Garaki stood alone at the heart of this forgotten place, his gaze fixed upward on the largest tank. Suspended in the viscous fluid, Tomura Shigaraki floated in eerie stillness, hair fanning out like a pale crown. Wires and tubes ran from his body into the massive control system, each slow pulse of the machine confirming that its occupant was still alive… still sleeping.
Garaki’s hands tightened on the edge of the console, his expression heavy with hesitation. For so long, every move he made had been dictated by the will of one man — All For One. Yet now… there were no orders. The master was gone, torn from his reach. He had watched the broadcast too many times to count — the image of All For One being taken by the Celtican royal family, Tartarus itself falling into the hands of Dawn Mikcloud. The impossible had happened, and with it, the unshakable foundation of his purpose had cracked.
His eyes drifted back to Tomura. He had not initiated the next phase. He hadn’t so much as adjusted the sedation levels since the day All For One fell. The boy’s transformation had been paused indefinitely, not for lack of means… but because the doctor himself no longer knew if there was any point. The long shadow of his master’s ambitions no longer reached this place. All that remained was the question clawing at the back of his mind: If the king has fallen, is it worth creating a successor at all?
Garaki sighed, the sound harsh and brittle in the sterile air. His finger hovered over a switch, almost out of habit, but then he froze. A flicker from the corner monitor caught his eye — a news feed he’d left running quietly, white noise to fill the oppressive silence. The headline scrolled in bold across the screen: "All For One Officially Declared in Celtican Custody — International Court to Oversee Detainment."
The doctor stared at the words for a long moment. Then, without a word, he turned the feed off, the tank’s dim hum filling the void again. His mind was unsettled, teetering between loyalty to a ghost and the creeping realization that the game had changed — perhaps forever.
In the dim, oppressive glow of the underground bunker, the lab felt more like a tomb than a place of science. The glass of Tomura’s containment tank shimmered faintly with the neon pinkish-purple hue of the life-support fluid, his still form suspended in eerie silence. Kyudai Garaki stood at the console, his hunched figure bathed in the cold reflection of the monitor’s light. His eyes kept flicking to the news feed in the corner—reports on All For One’s capture, Tartarus in ruins, the Celtican royal family claiming the most dangerous man alive.
It should have been a moment of triumph for them. For him, it was an ending.
Without All For One’s voice guiding his every move, every experiment, every calculated step toward domination, the doctor’s hands hesitated over the controls. His master’s grand plan had stopped in its tracks, and for the first time in decades, there was no command to follow.
He looked at Tomura’s pale, sleeping face in the tank—his last creation, his final hope. The machine hummed softly as he whispered to himself, “What will they do to you if I leave you like this? Tartarus? Experiments? Execution?” His lips thinned into a grim line. “No… I won’t let them throw you away.”
From a locked drawer beneath the console, Garaki pulled a small vial, the liquid inside swirling like molten amethyst. A quirk-derived serum—originally meant for All For One—to undo the damage of centuries and revert the body to its prime. Or further. All For One had intended to use it to become young again, to cast off the shell of his failing body. But that plan would never come to pass.
Garaki loaded the vial into the injector feed. With a series of practiced keystrokes, the needle arm inside the tank descended slowly, piercing Tomura’s skin. “Maybe this will save you,” the doctor murmured. “Maybe it’s the only way to keep you from becoming their prisoner.”
The serum’s glow pulsed through Tomura’s veins like lightning trapped beneath his skin, the neon hue bleeding into the fluid around him. His body arched involuntarily, a shudder rippling through him as bone and muscle began to shift. The adult frame contracted, proportions reshaping, and his hair softened into a slightly longer, messier tangle. Within moments, the figure suspended in the tank was no longer the imposing man feared by so many, but a boy—no older than twelve or thirteen. His features were sharper than a child’s but still unmarked by the full toll of life’s battles, giving him an almost unrecognizable air of youth. Eyes fluttering behind closed lids, he looked strangely vulnerable, as though the weight of the world had not yet settled on his shoulders.
Garaki’s chest tightened at the sight. “I’m sorry, Tomura,” he whispered, more to himself than to the boy. “I won’t reverse it… not yet.”
He drained the tank, the hiss of decompressing seals echoing through the chamber. Steam rose as the glass lifted, revealing the child curled against the cold floor of the pod. No mask. No malice. Just a boy, breathing softly. The doctor draped a clean blanket over his small frame and turned away, already knowing this would be the last time they’d be in the same room.
It was time to let Tomura Shigaraki disappear—at least for now.
The mid-November wind cut like glass, the kind that sank into bones no matter how many layers you wore. Toshinori Yagi pulled his scarf tighter as he trudged home from the corner store, the paper bag in his hand crinkling with every step. A few snacks rattled inside—little indulgences he’d been craving all week.
“All Might.”
He stopped cold. The voice was young—too young—but there was something in its tone that sent a jolt straight through his chest. Turning, his eyes fell on a boy no more than twelve or thirteen standing a short distance away, walking toward him with a measured, almost hesitant stride.
The kid wore a plain black shirt and matching black pants, red hi-top sneakers bright against the cold pavement. No jacket. His hands were gloved in yellow, like some echo of an old habit. Light blue hair framed his face in messy tufts, and under his crimson eyes lay faint rashes. But what made Toshinori’s breath hitch was the white band on the boy’s wrist—Luminite, unmistakable.
His lips trembled. “Tomura…?”
The boy’s brow furrowed. “Tenko. Tenko Shimura. I’m not Tomura Shigaraki anymore.”
Yagi’s hand shook slightly. “What happened to you…?”
Tenko’s eyes dropped, his voice quieter but still edged with wariness. “The doctor… de-aged me. I woke up a day later, just… trying to come to terms with it. So I ran away.” He hesitated, then looked up with a strange mix of defiance and resolve. “I… I wanna turn myself in. And you should be the one to do it.”
Toshinori’s frown deepened. “I can’t turn you in to the authorities here. I have to take you to the Celtica Embassy…”
The warm light from the kitchen spilled into the embassy apartment’s living room, the faint scent of sizzling food mixing with the comforting aroma of herbs and spices. Jess lounged back on the deep gray couch, one leg tucked beneath her as she absently turned her hand under the lamplight, admiring the way the gemstone on her finger caught every glimmer. The Amethyst Vine ring was nothing short of mesmerizing — delicate silver vines wrapping around her finger, their leaves dotted with tiny, faceted amethysts that sparkled softly. At the center sat the 6.5mm round Blue Sandstone, its surface a galaxy of midnight blues and shimmering specks, as if she was staring into the heart of a quiet, star-filled sky.
She still couldn’t believe he had done it — waking from a nap just the day before to find it already resting perfectly on her finger, as if it had always belonged there. Touya had been leaning casually against the doorway, pretending it was no big deal, but she had seen the faintest trace of a smirk tugging at his lips when she’d been left speechless.
Her gaze drifted briefly toward the kitchen, catching a glimpse of him moving with an easy, natural rhythm as he worked. Even from here, the faint gleam of his own ring caught the light — the Meteorite & Galaxy Inlay tungsten band. It was bold and solid, its 8mm width and sleek edges making it look both timeless and indestructible. The inlay shimmered with deep cosmic colors — flecks of blue, violet, and hints of red, like a frozen slice of the night sky. Ultra-durable and scratch-resistant, just like the man who wore it.
Jess smiled faintly, her thumb brushing over the vines on her ring. She wasn’t sure if the embassy’s walls were enough to shield her from the rest of the world, but with this — with him — it felt like they had carved out a small, safe universe of their own.
Touya’s voice carried from the kitchen, warm and casual, “Lunch is done.” Jess’s eyes lit up instantly, a bright smile crossing her face as she hopped off the couch and padded over. Touya was just setting her bowl down—steaming, fragrant mild Japanese beef curry served with soft white rice, the gentle aroma of spices and slow-cooked beef filling the air. The rich sauce glistened under the warm apartment lighting, chunks of tender carrot and potato peeking through, with a small pop of red pickled ginger on the side for contrast.
Without missing a beat, Touya moved to the counter and began filling Anubis’s bowl with care. It wasn’t just any cat food—it was Jess’s own homemade recipe for wet food, one she had taught him a week ago. He had worked at perfecting it until even Anubis seemed to anticipate the sound of the dish being set down.
Jess sat down, taking in the comforting sight of the meal. “You even plated it perfectly,” she murmured, her tone both teasing and touched. The soft clink of Anubis’s bowl hitting the floor was followed by the cat trotting over, tail high, ready to eat his own special dish. The apartment felt warm and safe—an oasis away from the chaos outside—where simple, shared moments like this carried more weight than either of them said out loud.
At the front gates of the embassy, Frank and River stood bundled against the chilly November air, the frost in the air making their breaths visible in pale puffs. They had been expecting All Might’s arrival for the past several minutes, ever since he called ahead to inform them he was bringing Tomura Shigaraki—no, Tenko Shimura—to them.
The rumble of approaching footsteps on the paved walkway drew their attention, and Frank’s gaze immediately fixed on the trio coming toward the gates. All Might, in his civilian form as Toshinori Yagi, was walking beside a boy who… didn’t match the image Frank had in mind. His steps slowed slightly, eyes narrowing before he blinked a few times to make sure he wasn’t imagining it. This wasn’t the man they knew—this was a kid, maybe twelve or thirteen years old, wearing a black shirt and pants, red hi-tops, and those unmistakable yellow gloves. His pale blue hair and sharp red eyes were the same, but the harsh lines of adulthood were gone. A white Luminite band circled his wrist, catching faint glints from the weak sunlight.
River’s brows shot up as she gave the boy a once-over, then turned her questioning gaze to Yagi. “Why does he look young…?” she asked, the skepticism in her tone clear. Frank’s lips pressed into a thin line as his mind raced, realizing that whatever explanation was coming next wasn’t going to be simple.
Half hour later
Frank stepped into the softly lit, high-tech interrogation room, the muted hum of the embassy’s systems a constant background note. The cool blue glow from the hallway followed him in, spilling across the polished white table where Tenko sat, small hands curled together in front of him. The boy looked up warily as the door slid shut behind Frank with a soft hiss.
Without a word at first, Frank crossed the short distance and placed a steaming paper cup on the table between them. The faint scent of chocolate and peppermint drifted up immediately, curling into the sterile air.
“Careful—it’s hot,” Frank said gently, settling into the chair opposite him. His tone carried no edge, no judgment—just calm, measured warmth.
Tenko eyed the cup for a moment before his gaze flickered back to Frank, still unsure if he should take it. The bright swirls of chocolate drizzle and crushed peppermint stood in stark contrast to the cold, clinical room, like a piece of comfort smuggled into a place built for control.
Frank leaned back slightly, giving him space, his eyes never leaving the boy’s. “I figured after the day you’ve had, you could use something that wasn’t… well… questions.”
Tenko’s fingers hesitated, then inched toward the cup. The warmth seeped into his palms, and he stared at the rising steam for a long moment before quietly murmuring, “Thanks…”
Frank’s gaze stayed steady on the boy, his voice calm but probing. “What happened, Tenko? And why are you… this age now?”
Tenko lowered his eyes to the steaming cup, blowing gently before taking a cautious sip. The rich chocolate and cool peppermint hit his tongue, and for a fleeting moment, his tense shoulders eased. “The doctor de-aged me…” he began quietly. “It… took time for me to process. But once I did, I destroyed his lab—but not him.” His tone tightened with regret. “Then I ran away… I wanted to turn myself in… for what I did to Jess.”
Frank’s expression didn’t change, but his eyes sharpened. “Hawks says he told you about the miscarriage.”
Tenko’s grip on the cup tightened just slightly, his gaze fixed on the swirl of melted chocolate on the surface. “I’m sorry… for what I did to her,” he said, the words heavy with guilt. “Compress’s therapy sessions… they’ve enlightened me. I don’t deserve her forgiveness.”
Frank exhaled slowly through his nose, leaning back in his chair. “She’s here in the embassy. With Touya.”
Tenko blinked, his brows knitting. “…Who?”
A faint smirk touched Frank’s lips. “Oh, right. You didn’t know. Dabi is Touya Todoroki.”
That made Tenko sit back slightly, his mind processing.
“Eventually, you’ll see them,” Frank continued. “Kurogiri is also here—in the medical wing. And your Liberation Front lieutenants are here too, in their own condo area. They’ve been searching for you with Celtica’s help.” Frank’s tone softened just enough to sound reassuring. “I already contacted Compress. He’s on his way back now—he was out searching in the area where the doctor was last sighted.”
Frank’s tone shifted, more matter-of-fact now. “But for now, you are the ward of the Celtican royal family. All For One is long gone—locked away in an underground cryo facility in Celtica where he’s basically in stasis.” He rose from his seat, gesturing toward the door. “Come on, let’s go. And that band that was on you—thank you for letting us take it off. We’ve put a better one on you. Much safer.”
Tenko stood, still holding his hot cocoa protectively in both hands. “So… the detention center then?”
Frank shook his head with a faint chuckle. “No. You’ll be placed under Princess Dawn’s care.” His lips curled into an almost warning smirk. “Careful—she will not hesitate to treat you like a child. And I mean literally. Over her knee or stuck in a corner if she thinks you’re acting like one.”
Tenko blinked, unsure if he should feel relieved or concerned, sipping his cocoa again as if it might prepare him for whatever came next.
Not long, Frank arrived at Dawn’s apartment suite, his knuckles rapping lightly against the door. A moment later, it opened to reveal James standing in the doorway, his gaze immediately dropping to the boy beside Frank. Tenko instinctively lowered his head, avoiding eye contact.
Frank gave a polite bow. “Your Highness, I brought him home.”
James let out a quiet hum, his expression unreadable. “I see. Thank you, Frank. Well—come on in, Tenko. My wife is making a late dinner. Don’t mind our son, Sora. He’s been edgy because Jess grounded him from ‘sister snuggles.’”
Tenko’s brow furrowed faintly at the phrase, but he stepped inside without protest, slipping off his shoes in the entryway. Frank bowed once more before turning to leave.
Once the door shut, James gently guided Tenko further into the apartment. In the living room, Sora was sprawled on the couch, eyes locked on the TV until he caught sight of Tenko. His head turned sharply, gaze narrowing.
“So this is the little shit that hurt my baby sister?” Sora’s tone was laced with venom.
James immediately narrowed his eyes. “Sora—behave.”
From the kitchen, Dawn’s voice floated over as she stirred something at the stove. “Sora, be nice.”
Sora growled under his breath but didn’t press further, though his glare lingered. Tenko remained rooted near the entryway, the awkwardness settling over him like a heavy coat.
James exhaled slowly. “Come on, I’ll show you to your room. Compress brought some of your gaming systems up before you arrived. Their condo is a floor down from here. Jess and Touya’s place is in the other wing of this floor.”
James led Tenko down the short hallway, the warm lighting casting soft gold along the smooth walls and polished wood floors. The faint aroma of whatever Dawn was cooking lingered in the air, a quiet reminder of a normal domestic life Tenko hadn’t felt in years.
They reached a sliding door, and James slid it open with a practiced ease. “Here we are. This will be your space while you’re under our care.”
Inside, the room was small but comfortable—more than enough for someone his age. The bed was neatly made with fresh linens, positioned against the wall beneath a window draped with heavy gray curtains to keep out the cold November air. A compact sofa sat at the foot of the bed, facing a modest coffee table and a flat-screen TV. The faint glow from a desk lamp illuminated the corner, where a computer setup waited beside a small shelf stocked with games and controllers Compress had brought up earlier.
“It’s not as large as some of the other royal suites on this floor,” James admitted, stepping inside to gesture around the room, “but it’s quiet, private, and all yours. You’ll find clean clothes in the drawers, and the bathroom’s across the hall.”
Tenko lingered in the doorway, eyes roaming over the setup. It wasn’t extravagant, but the warmth in the space felt foreign—almost too kind for someone who didn’t think he deserved it.
James glanced back at him, voice firm but not unkind. “This is your fresh start, Tenko. No one here’s going to hurt you, but Dawn and I expect you to follow the house rules. Understand?”
Tenko gave a small nod, still clutching his cup of cocoa like it was a lifeline. “Yeah… I understand.”
“Good.” James stepped back toward the hallway. “Settle in. Dinner will be ready in about twenty minutes.”
Left alone, Tenko stepped inside and closed the door behind him. The muted sounds of the TV from the living room faded into the background, replaced by the soft hum of the heater kicking on. He set his cocoa down on the coffee table, sat on the couch, and stared quietly at the game consoles waiting for him—another reminder that, for now at least, he wasn’t running anymore.
James stepped out of the hallway and into the open living room, expecting to find his son still sprawled on the couch. Instead, the cushions were empty, the TV still on but playing to no one. His brow furrowed.
“Hm. Where is our son?” he asked, scanning the room as if Sora might pop up from behind the furniture.
From the kitchen, the sound of sizzling carried over the faint clink of utensils. Dawn didn’t even glance up from the stove as she answered in a calm, knowing tone. “He left.”
James groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Another attempt to see Jess again?”
“Yup.” Dawn’s lips curved into a sly smirk as she stirred the pan, her voice carrying an almost playful lilt. “Wait until he finds out they’re engaged. I’d bet a hundred he’ll faint—dramatically, like it’s the end of the world.”
James huffed out a laugh despite himself, shaking his head as he crossed to the couch and sat down. “Well… he’ll learn his lesson soon enough.”
Dawn hummed, the corner of her mouth quirking upward. “Oh, he will. And knowing Sora, it’ll be loud, overblown, and very entertaining.”
James leaned back, letting the warmth of the apartment and the aroma of dinner settle around him.
Jess and Touya were curled together on the couch, the soft glow of the television casting warm flickers over the darkened living room. A blanket was draped over them, Jess nestled against his side while Touya’s arm rested comfortably around her. They were halfway through the final episodes of the first season of Stranger Things, determined to finally finish it without another interruption.
The quiet atmosphere was perfect—until an abrupt knock sounded at the door. Jess let out an exasperated sigh, one that Touya echoed under his breath as he reluctantly paused the show. The living room went still, the tense pause hanging between them like a thread about to snap.
“Seriously?” Jess muttered, her voice tinged with disappointment.
Touya growled low in his throat, pushing the blanket aside. “Unbelievable…” he muttered as he rose to his feet. He flicked the lights on, the sudden brightness feeling almost intrusive after the cozy darkness. His jaw was tight as he stomped toward the door, every step radiating his annoyance at having their evening disrupted.
When he swung the door open, his scowl deepened. Standing in the hall was Sora—his older brother in title, but wearing an expression just as dark as his own. Touya teeth clicked in irritation, the sound sharp in the otherwise quiet corridor.
“Let me in,” Sora said flatly, eyes narrowing. “You both need to hear this.”
Touya’s brow furrowed, one hand still on the doorframe. “This better be worth ruining my night,” he muttered, but stepped aside enough for Sora to enter.
Sora stepped inside without waiting for an invitation, shutting the door behind him with a firm click before striding into the living room. His gaze immediately landed on the sight before him—his baby sister curled up on the couch, a plush throw blanket slipping halfway off her shoulders, the TV frozen mid-scene from a paused episode of Stranger Things.
His brows knit, suspicion clear in his voice. “So… what was going on here?”
Jess’s eyes narrowed, her tone sharpening. “Big brother, you interrupted our Stranger Things night. What do you want?”
Touya brushed past Sora without a word, heading straight back to the couch. He dropped down beside Jess again, his arm draping casually along the backrest while his fingers found her shoulders, gently rubbing in a reassuring motion. His expression was calm, but his eyes were alert, watching Sora closely.
Sora’s gaze flicked between the two of them, narrowing slightly before he spoke. “Well… he’s here. Tomura Shigaraki.”
Jess froze. The breath hitched in her chest, and almost instantly, a tremor ran through her. Touya reacted in an instant, pulling her against him, his arm wrapping protectively around her frame.
“Shhh,” he murmured against her hair, his voice low and steady. “It’s okay.” His eyes lifted to Sora. “They captured him?”
Sora shook his head. “No. He surrendered… said the doctor de-aged him to about twelve or thirteen years old. He’s under our parents’ care now.”
Touya’s jaw tightened, his hand rubbing Jess’s arm in slow circles as she stayed pressed against his side.
Touya’s frown deepened, the shadows under his eyes darkening with his mood. “So he’s not gonna be put into the detention center?”
Sora shook his head firmly. “They can’t put a twelve or thirteen-year-old kid in there… plus he’s got a new Luminite band on his wrist, completely blocking his quirk.”
Jess, still pressed against Touya’s side, took a slow, steadying breath. The trembling in her shoulders began to fade, though the tension in her posture lingered. She shifted slightly away from him, her gaze fixed somewhere past the coffee table.
“Tomorrow,” she said quietly but with clear resolve, “I want to confront him.”
Both Touya’s and Sora’s eyes widened at her words.
Touya’s brows drew together, and Sora’s lips parted in surprise, the air between them growing noticeably heavier. Neither of them had expected Jess to make such a bold decision so soon.
“Okay, you told us,” Touya said, leaning back into the couch with a deliberate calm that only made the tension worse. “You can leave.”
Sora bit his lip, clearly unwilling to back down, but before he could speak, Jess pushed herself to her feet.
“Excuse me, I have to pee,” she said, brushing past them without meeting either of their eyes. Her footsteps faded down the hallway, followed by the soft click of the bathroom door.
Silence settled over the living room—sharp, cold, and tense.
The moment the lock slid into place, Sora’s eyes narrowed dangerously on Touya. His voice dropped to a low growl, each word laced with venom. “Just because you’re her boyfriend doesn’t give you the right to take her from me, you prick.”
Touya lifted a brow, utterly unruffled. “Wow… you really do have a little sister complex—just like Jess says.”
Sora’s eyes widened in fury, his fists curling tight at his sides. For a moment, his entire demeanor shifted, the professional assassin in him itching to surface, to erase the smirk from Touya’s face permanently.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about…” Sora’s voice was taut, barely controlled.
Touya’s grin only widened, sharp and knowing. “She’s not just my girlfriend, you know. She’s my fiancé. We’re engaged.”
Sora’s breath hitched audibly. His lips parted, but before he could speak, the bathroom door opened. Jess stepped back into the living room, her hair slightly tousled from washing her hands.
Before she could take a seat, Sora was on his feet, grabbing her face between his hands as if desperate to anchor her in place. Touya instantly growled, rising from the couch. “Hey!”
Jess frowned at her brother, who was trembling and clinging a little too tightly.
“Tell big brother it’s not true… Tell me my baby sister isn’t engaged to this prick?!” Sora’s voice cracked, his eyes wide and pleading.
Jess blinked at him for a moment, then broke into a bright, unapologetic smile. “Yes! Isn’t it wonderful, Oni-chan?”
That did it. The blood drained from Sora’s face—well, except for the small trail of blood suddenly trickling from his nose—and then he collapsed to the floor in a full dramatic faint.
Touya looking down at him with a baffled expression. “Huh… he passed out.”
Jess sighed, rubbing her temple. “Avatora, please contact Dad to tell him to retrieve Sora.”
Tenko stepped out of the bedroom, his bare feet padding softly against the polished floor. The quiet click of the front door shutting caught his attention, making him pause mid-step. Before he could question it, Dawn appeared from the kitchen, her expression warm.
“Tenko, dinner is ready,” she said, gesturing toward the dining table. “James left to retrieve Sora from Jess and Touya’s apartment.”
Tenko nodded silently and followed her into the dining space. He sat down, eyes flicking around the immaculate room before settling on the plate Dawn placed in front of him. His gaze lingered on the colorful, layered contents—shredded meat, diced vegetables, melted cheese, all neatly tucked into toasted tortillas.
Dawn smiled knowingly. “That’s right—you’re not used to American-style Mexican food. These are tacos, my own recipe, and according to my family, they’re to die for. Every family reunion, they’re gone in twenty minutes.”
Before Tenko could respond, the front door opened again. James stepped in, carrying an unconscious Sora slung over his shoulder like a sack of rice.
“Ahh… he fainted,” Dawn remarked with an amused shake of her head.
James set his son down into a chair at the table. “From the engagement news and from Jess calling him ‘Oni-chan’ too.” His voice dripped with half-teasing exasperation—until his eyes caught the tacos on the table. “Ah! You made your famous tacos!”
Dropping into the seat beside Sora, James lifted one of the warm tacos and held it near his son’s face. Sora’s eyes cracked open with a soft gasp, and after a moment of sniffing, he reached out, snatched the taco, and took a huge bite.
“Mhmmm… good…” he mumbled through a mouthful, only to let his head drop dramatically onto the table. A muffled sob escaped him. “My baby sister is engaged to that prick!”
Dawn chuckled under her breath, shaking her head at her son’s theatrics.
Tenko blinked in confusion. “…Jess… and Dabi… are engaged…?”
James leaned back slightly, his voice calm but deliberate. “It’s not just a romance between them, Tenko. Their connection runs deeper than most people can imagine—they’re both reincarnations. Touya’s quirk isn’t what the world thinks it is… it’s called the Phoenix.”
Sora, still sulking but unable to resist chiming in, lifted his head just enough to glare at Tenko. “Your so-called master took him from that mountain. Most likely planned it for years and kept his eye on the Todoroki family. Why do you think Dabi looked so patched together? Those skin grafts were done bad over the years by that doctor of yours.”
James gave a small nod in agreement, his gaze steady. “If it wasn’t for All For One being nearby when Touya lost control, the Phoenix within him would have revived him on the spot. But the Phoenix… it sensed that man’s evil. It hid itself, waiting until the right moment to return.”
Dawn hummed softly, breaking the tension with a firm but warm voice. “Enough. Let’s all eat before the food gets cold.”
James glanced at Tenko once more, his tone softening. “Tomorrow, Jess and Touya will explain everything to you themselves. It’s their story to tell.”
Tenko finally lifted the taco from his plate, still hesitant but curious. He took a cautious bite—and immediately froze. His eyes widened as the flavors hit him all at once: the warm, slightly crisp tortilla, the savory, tender meat seasoned to perfection, the freshness of the diced tomatoes and onions, the gentle heat of the spices balanced by a hint of lime.
For a moment, he simply chewed in stunned silence, his gaze darting between Dawn and the plate like he couldn’t quite believe what he was eating. Swallowing, he let out a quiet, almost disbelieving breath. “This… this is the most delicious thing I’ve ever tasted,” he admitted, his voice low but genuine.
Dawn smiled knowingly, leaning back in her chair with an expression that said she’d heard that plenty of times before. “Told you. My family says they’re legendary.”
James chuckled, taking a hearty bite of his own taco. “Careful, Tenko—once you’ve had Dawn’s cooking, you’ll be spoiled for life.”
Sora, still face-down on the table, grumbled through a mouthful of tortilla, “He’s already spoiled. He just doesn’t know it yet.”
Tenko’s lips twitched into the faintest, uncertain smile as he looked down at the rest of his plate, realizing that for the first time in a long while, he felt… welcome.
The next day, Dawn had taken Tenko to the medical center in the embassy to see Dr. Murk for an examination of the cracked, wrinkled skin beneath his eyes from his quirk. They walked together into the check-in and waiting room, the soft hum of conversation and the faint scent of antiseptic in the air.
Dawn guided Tenko toward the chairs before stepping over to the counter. The woman behind the desk looked up and smiled warmly.
“Morning, Princess Dawn.”
Dawn returned the smile. “Checking in Tenko Shimura.”
The nurse nodded, fingers moving quickly over the keyboard. “He’s all checked in, ma’am.”
“Thank you,” Dawn said, before turning and walking back to Tenko. She sat down beside him, her posture relaxed yet attentive.
Tenko glanced around the waiting area, his eyes narrowing slightly at the sight of actual patients—families, elderly couples, even business people quietly waiting for their turn. “Why are there people here? Aren’t there hospitals in the city…?”
Dawn raised an eyebrow, a knowing smile forming. “Hospitals around the city are being remodeled to fit with current Celtica technology. The bill was passed by the Emperor of Japan yesterday—every hospital and even small clinics must have the proper equipment, and everything will be converted. It will take years for the hospitals and clinics to reopen, so the embassy’s medical center is open to all.”
The nurse stepped into the waiting room, calling out, “Tenko Shimura.” Tenko’s head lifted at the sound of his name. Dawn stood immediately, motioning for him to follow. Together, they walked down a softly lit corridor lined with sleek, modern panels that reflected the faint hum of embedded machinery.
They entered one of the pristine examination rooms. The faint scent of sterilized surfaces hung in the air, and the cool lighting highlighted the futuristic equipment arranged neatly along the walls. The nurse gestured for Tenko to stand near a scanner built into the corner.
“We’ll start with your basic vitals,” she said warmly.
Tenko obediently stepped onto the platform, feeling the faint vibration as it measured his weight. The nurse read the display, noting it down on her sleek tablet before guiding him toward a height scanner. A gentle beam traced over him, projecting the numbers instantly.
Next came the blood pressure check. She wrapped a smooth, fabric cuff around his arm, the quiet hiss of inflation filling the momentary silence. Tenko kept his gaze low, his cracked, wrinkled skin beneath his eyes catching the nurse’s quick, sympathetic glance.
“All right,” she said, removing the cuff with practiced ease. “Dr. Murk will be with you shortly.”
Dawn remained seated beside Tenko the whole time, watching him with an encouraging smile. “See? Nothing scary yet,” she teased lightly, her tone easing the edge of his nerves.
Tenko nodded faintly, his gaze dropping to his lap. Everything about this place felt foreign—too calm, too clean. It was nothing like the cold, clinical cruelty of the doctor who had worked for All For One. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d had a normal check-up… maybe when he was still just a boy, back when his parents and sister were alive. The memory sat heavy in his chest.
“It’s different…” he murmured, almost to himself.
Dawn glanced at him knowingly, her voice soft but edged with the weight of truth. “All those experiments done on you… no wonder this feels strange.”
A gentle knock came at the door before it opened. Dr. Ethan Murk stepped inside, his presence calm and assured. Closing the door behind him, he bowed his head slightly to Dawn. “Your Majesty… and Tenko Shimura—once known as Tomura Shigaraki,” he acknowledged evenly before crossing the room.
He stopped beside the examination chair and pulled up a stool, sitting so he could meet Tenko’s eye level. His voice was professional, but not cold. “Princess Dawn has asked me to examine the cracked and wrinkled skin beneath your eyes caused by your Decay quirk. My quirk—Skin Manipulation—requires me to make contact with my bare hands. Do I have your permission?”
Tenko hesitated only a moment before giving a small nod.
Ethan’s lips curved into a reassuring smile. He rose, dispensing a pump of sanitizer into his hands, rubbing them together until the scent of alcohol briefly filled the air. Then, with a gentleness that startled Tenko, Ethan stepped closer and reached out. His fingers made light contact beneath Tenko’s right eye, the warmth of human touch replacing the cold instruments Tenko had grown used to in his past.
Ethan’s touch remained gentle as his eyes studied the lines and texture beneath Tenko’s skin, his expression thoughtful. After a moment, he asked, “Before everything that happened with your family… did your mother ever take you to a doctor for these?”
Tenko blinked at the question before slowly shaking his head. “No… my mother diagnosed me herself. She didn’t know what was causing it—she thought it was just allergies. She gave me some ointment to put on it, but…” He trailed off, looking down.
Ethan hummed in thought. “Mhmm… your mother should have had you seen. This was an early sign of your quirk manifesting. Did anyone in your family have a decay-related quirk?”
Tenko frowned. “No…”
Dawn, seated nearby, tilted her head with a faint frown. “Normally, quirks are hereditary. Children often inherit a quirk similar to one of their parents’ abilities, or a fusion of both.”
Ethan nodded in agreement. “Quirk inheritance typically follows the principles of dominant and recessive genes, with dominant traits being the most likely to pass down. But in rare cases, a child can develop a quirk completely unrelated to either parent or any family members. If you’d like, we can run a quirk gene analysis to learn more about your Decay and your genetic markers.”
Tenko blinked in surprise. “You can do that?”
“Yes,” Ethan chuckled lightly. “It’s not as complicated as it sounds.” His gaze softened before adding, “And believe it or not—His Majesty James also has a decay-based quirk.”
Tenko’s eyes widened.
Dawn smiled faintly. “Taphokinesis. That’s the proper Kinese term for it.”
Ethan gave a small nod. “Before he married into the royal family, James used to see a doctor named Vi. She was an underground physician—treated villains, gangsters, even members of the Japanese mafia. But her main clientele were professional assassins. James was one of them, back when he was known as Revan—feared and respected across the criminal underground. He retired when he married Dawn, just after Sora was born.”
Dawn gave a soft chuckle at the memory. “Yes, he saw Vi for his own skin issues. Ethan was her student back then, and one of her best. If anyone knows how to treat this, it’s him.”
Ethan straightened slightly, his expression confident. “It’s a serum injection—James takes it once a year. It strengthens and repairs damaged tissue caused by quirks like yours. If you want, Tenko, we can start you on it today.”
Tenko’s eyes widened, and he gave a quick nod. “Please… even with the band on, I’m still itchy.”
Ethan offered a reassuring smile. “Alright. I’ll be back with the serum. The nurse will come in to prep you for it. I won’t lie, Tenko—it’s going to hurt.”
Tenko bit his lip but met Ethan’s gaze firmly. “I’ve had worse done to me, Doctor. I can take it.”
Ethan chuckled softly. “Alright then.” With that, he stepped out of the room, the door clicking shut behind him.
Dawn turned toward Tenko, her expression gentle. “After this, we’ll meet Jess and Touya in the gardens.”
Tenko nodded, though his thoughts were already racing. He was eager—almost impatient—for the serum, but even more so for the chance to see Jess again. In his mind, he was already planning it out: he would drop to his knees, bow his head to the ground, and apologize—really apologize—for everything he had done to her. He knew he didn’t deserve her forgiveness… but he was determined to try.
The nurse returned shortly after Ethan left, her steps light as she carried a small tray of supplies. She gave Tenko a polite smile before setting it on the counter, running through the basics as she prepared him for the injection—clean swabs, sterile gloves, and a small bandage for afterward. She checked his arm position, ensuring his upper right shoulder was fully exposed, before giving a nod of approval.
A few minutes later, Ethan came back into the room, wearing fresh gloves and holding a syringe filled with a faint, glowing green serum. He gave Tenko a reassuring look as he twisted off the protective cap from the needle. “Alright, Tenko—ready? This is going to burn for a couple of minutes. If you’d like, Princess Dawn can comfort you.”
Tenko’s brows furrowed slightly at the mention of burning, his eyes flicking briefly to the syringe. Before he could respond, Dawn moved from her chair, her presence calm and grounding. She settled behind him, her hands warm as they gently rubbed his right arm in slow, steady circles. “You’re ready, Tenko,” she said softly, her tone both encouraging and protective.
Tenko drew in a deep breath, nodding firmly. “Ready…”
Ethan gave a small approving nod, pressing the alcohol wipe to Tenko’s shoulder in firm, quick motions before positioning the needle.
Ethan steadied the syringe, his green eyes briefly meeting Tenko’s before he gave the faintest nod. Without further hesitation, he slid the needle into Tenko’s upper shoulder with practiced precision. The serum pushed in slowly, the vibrant green liquid disappearing into his bloodstream.
The burn hit almost immediately—sharp at first, then spreading like a slow fire beneath his skin. Tenko’s breath hitched, his fingers curling against his knees as he clenched his jaw. A low hiss escaped him, but he didn’t flinch away.
Dawn’s hand stayed firm and steady on his arm, her thumb moving in calming circles. “Breathe through it,” she murmured. “It’s temporary—just a few minutes, remember?”
Ethan’s voice came in measured and calm. “You’re doing good. This serum works fast. It’ll calm the skin’s reactive state and help with regeneration over the next several days.”
Tenko let out a slow exhale, forcing his shoulders to relax even as the burning sensation peaked. His eyes briefly closed, focusing on Dawn’s steady touch and Ethan’s even tone until, finally, the worst of the burn began to fade into a faint throb.
Ethan withdrew the needle smoothly, pressing a small gauze pad to the injection site before securing it with a bandage. “Done,” he said, giving Tenko a faint smile. “You took that better than most. The cracked skin will heal within 24 hours.”
Tenko opened his eyes again, a faint sheen of sweat on his brow but a hint of relief in his expression. “It… already feels different,” he admitted quietly, surprised at how quickly the itchiness seemed to ease.
Dawn gave his arm one last reassuring squeeze before moving back to her seat. “Told you it would help. Now—let’s get you to the gardens. Jess and Touya are waiting.”
Tenko nodded, his mind already fixed on the meeting ahead… and the apology he had been rehearsing over and over in his head.
Cold November air swept gently through the near-empty garden paths, carrying with it the faint, earthy scent of damp soil and the lingering trace of fallen leaves. The vibrant colors that once covered the flowerbeds in spring and summer were now replaced with muted greens, browns, and the occasional stubborn bloom clinging to life. Dawn’s boots crunched softly over the gravel walkway as she led Tenko through the skeletal trellises toward the gazebo gardens. Frost dusted the edges of the wrought-iron railings, and their breath hung in the air in pale clouds.
When they reached the open space, the gazebo stood as the centerpiece, its dark metal frame partially wrapped in the brittle remains of vines. Inside, Jess and Touya stood together, their figures framed by the structure’s archways. Touya was directly in front of Jess, his stance subtly protective.
Tenko slowed, blinking at the sight of them before his gaze locked on Touya. “Dabi…?” His voice was hesitant, almost unsure if he was seeing correctly.
Touya’s eyes met his, steady but calm, and he gave a short nod. “Yes.”
From behind him, Jess stepped forward into clearer view. Her presence was like a sudden spark of warmth in the cold air. She stood still, staring at Tenko, but her shoulders trembled faintly.
Tenko felt heat rise to his small, pale cheeks. She was still beautiful—more than he remembered, and somehow untouchable. The moment weighed heavily on him, and without hesitation, he dropped to his knees on the stone floor. His hands braced against the ground before he bent forward fully, pressing his forehead to the cold surface.
“I’m sorry… for what I did to you.” His voice cracked slightly, heavy with shame and sincerity, the words spilling into the chilled air between them.
Jess’s gaze softened as she looked at him—this man who had once been the boy she cared for, and who had hurt her so deeply. The truth was, she had forgiven him long ago. The weight of that decision still rested in her chest, but it no longer carried the same ache.
She took a single step toward him. Touya’s frown deepened, his protective instinct flaring, yet he didn’t move—only watched with guarded eyes. Dawn, standing a few paces back, observed with a gentle smile, sensing the gravity of the moment.
When Jess stopped directly in front of Tenko, her voice was calm but steady. “Get up, please?”
Her tone made him tremble. Slowly, almost cautiously, Tenko rose from the cold stone floor, lifting his gaze to meet hers. It struck him—when they had known each other before, he’d been taller, older in appearance. Now, with the toll of his past and the years that had passed, she was the one standing above him.
Jess’s hand lifted toward him. His eyes widened, instinctively squeezing shut, bracing for a strike. But instead of the impact he feared, warmth touched his cheek. His eyes fluttered open, blinking in disbelief as her hand cupped his face with gentle care.
“I forgive you, Tenko,” she said softly, her eyes unwavering. “I know it wasn’t always you… even the last time—your voice was different. I knew it wasn’t you. I forgive you, Tenko Shimura.”
The words pierced through him. His body began to tremble, his lips quivering. She understood… she truly forgave him. But in his heart, he knew he didn’t deserve it. They had lost a child because of him. That kind of wound should have been unforgivable.
His hands rose shakily, touching hers as if afraid she’d disappear. Tears began slipping down his face. “W-Why…? I… I did so many horrible things to you…”
Jess’s smile remained soft, her voice quiet but certain. “Being forgiven is a part of being human.”
Chapter 24
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The first of December arrived with a more chill in the air, the embassy's heating keeping the apartment comfortably warm. Jess sat in the bathroom, dressed in a pair of black panties and a loose white shirt, her bare feet resting against the cool tile. On the counter beside her lay a single, clear-blue digital pregnancy test, its screen still blank as it calculated the result.
She had suspected something was different—her menstrual cycle was late, and that nagging intuition had only grown stronger over the past few days. Touya didn't know; at this moment, he was sprawled on the couch in the living room, immersed in the Resident Evil 2 remake.
Perched on the closed lid of the toilet, Jess waited, her leg bouncing rapidly with a mix of nervousness and anticipation. Could it be? Could she actually be pregnant again so soon? The thought was dizzying. She'd miscarried just over a month ago—her heart still ached from that loss—but it was possible that, in the days after, she had still been able to conceive.
Out in the living room, Touya paused his game and glanced toward the bathroom door. Jess had been in there for quite a while. Setting down the controller, he walked over and rapped his knuckles lightly against the wood.
"Babe, you alright?" he called.
"Y-Yeah!" Jess's voice came quickly from the other side, but there was a strain in her tone.
Touya's frown deepened.
Inside, Jess took a slow, steadying breath before standing. She turned her gaze to the pregnancy test—and froze. Her eyes widened, her pulse thundering in her ears. The screen read in bold, clear letters: 'Pregnant 3+'.
Another knock at the door made her jump slightly. "Jess, come on, let me in. I know something's wrong," Touya urged.
Without a word, Jess used her quirk to flick the lock open. The latch clicked softly, and the door cracked just enough for Touya to push it wider and step inside.
"Jess, what is wro—" He stopped mid-sentence, his eyes locking on her.
She stood there, shoulders trembling with contained excitement, holding up the test for him to see. Her smile was bright enough to light the entire room.
"Touya... we're gonna have a baby."
Touya stood frozen for a moment, the words echoing in his head. His eyes slowly widened, searching Jess's face as if to make sure he'd heard her right.
"We're... gonna have a baby?" he asked, his voice almost disbelieving, shaky with emotion.
Jess's smile grew, her eyes bright as she met his gaze. "Yes!" she said with absolute certainty.
His lips trembled, and a sheen of tears gathered in his eyes. The realization sank in all at once—he was going to be a father. For a moment, he couldn't move, the weight of the joy threatening to overwhelm him. Then he stepped forward in one swift motion, pulling Jess into his arms and holding her close, his chin pressing to the top of her head.
"We're gonna have a baby!" he said again, his voice breaking into a laugh as the tears spilled over.
Jess giggled softly, her arms winding around him. "Yes," she whispered, her own voice thick with happiness, "we are."
He held her tighter, breathing in the scent of her hair, letting the moment settle deep into his heart. For everything they had been through—the pain, the losses, the struggles—this was a piece of hope he never thought he'd get to hold.
December 2nd
The exam room was warm compared to the chilly December air outside, the faint hum of the heater mixing with the sterile scent of antiseptic. Jess sat on the padded table, her bare feet swinging lightly above the floor, the pale pink imaging top gown tied neatly at her side. Touya had just helped her adjust it, his hands lingering for a moment as if reluctant to let go.
Jess's smile was radiant, her excitement impossible to contain. "Can you believe it? We're gonna have a baby."
Touya's smirk softened into something more genuine, his pale eyes reflecting the same thrill she felt. "Mhmm. It feels amazing. I totally beat my siblings at being a parent."
Jess gasped in mock offense, but it came out sounding almost like a giggle. "Touya..."
He leaned forward, brushing his lips against her forehead. "Stop being adorable."
A knock sounded on the door before either could say more. It opened to reveal Dr. Vi, her black bob framing her lime-green eyes, and behind her, Nurse Mai wheeled in the portable ultrasound machine.
Vi's gaze immediately landed on Touya, and she smiled warmly. "Wow! Touya, look at you! No scars, no staples—honestly, you were by far my favorite patient. Dabi will always be welcome here." Her eyes shifted to Jess, her smile turning just a bit mischievous. "Hello again, Princess. So I hear that you're pregnant?"
Jess giggled softly, her cheeks pink. "Yes!"
Vi shot Touya a knowing smirk. "Couldn't hold back, huh?"
Touya's grin widened, unashamed. "Mhmm. Very."
Jess gave an exaggerated sigh, shaking her head with a tiny smile, while Vi chuckled at the dynamic between them.
"Alright," Vi said as she pulled on a pair of gloves. "Just like last time—lean back, let's undo the top, and I'll put some warm jelly on your tummy so we can take a look at your baby."
Nurse Mai was already setting up the machine, the faint beep and click of buttons filling the room as the moment they had both been waiting for drew closer.
Vi moved the ultrasound wand slowly across Jess's lower abdomen, her eyes scanning the monitor. A small smile tugged at her lips before she glanced up at them. "Well... it looks like you're going to be having twins."
Jess's eyes went wide, and Touya's head snapped toward the screen just as Nurse Mai angled it toward them. On the grainy image, two tiny flickers of life pulsed side by side.
Touya's mouth fell open in pure shock. "You're kidding..."
Vi chuckled at his reaction, the corners of her eyes crinkling. "Nope. Mhmm—you're about... ahh, four and a half weeks pregnant, so just under a month."
Jess gasped softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "So... our first time... on my birthday..."
Touya's grin spread slowly, the awe still written all over his face. "Wow... twins. Is it too soon to tell, right?"
Vi nodded as she adjusted the wand. "Genders? Yes, much too soon. At four and a half weeks of a twin pregnancy, the embryos are in the rapid development phase. They're at the embryonic stage, where all the major organs and body structures are forming. Each is about a quarter of an inch long, and the buds for arms and legs are just starting to appear. Each twin has its own amniotic sac and placenta—though in rare cases, they can share. That means double everything while you're carrying them." She gave Jess a knowing look. "You'll probably start showing that baby bump any day now. With twins, it happens much earlier than with a single baby."
Jess's eyes shimmered with emotion while Touya still looked half-stunned, half-elated.
"Would you like pictures?" Vi asked warmly.
Jess and Touya both nodded immediately, their hands finding each other and squeezing tight.
The appointment wrapped up with Vi handing over a large envelope, crisp and thick from the stack of ultrasound prints tucked inside. Jess held it delicately, as if it were treasure, her smile refusing to fade as she peeked at the corner of the pictures through the opening. Ten copies—each tiny flicker of life preserved.
"We have to stop at a custom novelty shop!" Jess giggled, her voice full of excitement. "Then call everyone for dinner!"
Touya hummed in agreement, sliding an arm protectively around her shoulders as they walked out into the brisk December air. "Alright. Let's do it tonight—at the Todoroki estate. I wanna see if my plushie is still there."
Jess's eyes sparkled as she looked up at him. "Sure!" She pulled out her phone, quickly opening the map app, her breath puffing out in little clouds as she scanned the screen. "Okay... there's one not too far. I'll do a chain text to my parents and my brother."
Touya nodded, tugging his own phone from his pocket. "I'll do one for my family, and make sure Fuyumi stays out of the kitchen. I wanna cook."
Jess leaned into him, snuggling close against his warmth as they walked side by side down the sidewalk. "It's gonna be so much fun," she whispered, her tone glowing with anticipation. "Remember, though—don't mention I'm pregnant yet. Oh god, Sora is gonna lose his shit when he finds out."
Touya huffed out a quiet laugh, thumb already moving across his phone screen as he drafted his group message. "Yeah, yeah. Secrets safe—for now." He hit send with a decisive tap.
Half an hour later, the Todoroki estate was filled with the quiet hum of family life. Enji sat in the family room with the television on low, his broad shoulders leaned back into the couch, but his eyes distant. Rei, freshly released from the hospital only a month ago, sat nearby in her armchair. She had a neat stack of laundry folded in her lap—Enji's shirts, perfectly pressed and stacked with the kind of care only she gave. Her motions were slow, but steady, the comfort of normality in her hands.
The front door opened with a sharp click, letting in the chill of December air. Natsuo's voice came in first as he stepped out of his shoes, with Fuyumi behind him balancing a couple bags of groceries.
"I'm gonna put these away and get started on dinner," Fuyumi announced automatically, already slipping toward the kitchen.
Natsuo shot her a look, hanging his coat on the rack. "Did you not read the message?"
He shook his head, muttering as he walked deeper into the house and into the family room. "She never listens..."
"Hey, Mom," he greeted warmly.
Rei looked up with a smile that softened her tired features. "Hey, honey. Jess and Touya aren't here yet. But..." she trailed off, noticing Fuyumi disappearing down the hall. Rei's lips trembled slightly as she raised her voice. "Fuyumi, I know you saw the chain text message. Touya will be cooking for the family tonight."
Fuyumi froze in the doorway. Her shoulders slumped, teeth catching her lower lip. She gave a short, embarrassed nod and slipped out of sight again, retreating before she could be scolded further.
"Rude..." Natsuo muttered as he dropped onto the couch beside Enji.
Rei sighed, setting the last of the laundry aside. "Let's just wait for them to show up. We'll hear Touya kick her out of the kitchen soon enough."
Enji, who had been unusually quiet, adjusted his gaze from the TV to his family. "I..." he began slowly. The others turned to look at him. His face was conflicted, but his voice was honest. "I remember... he did that, once before. I do like his chicken bites..."
Natsuo's lips curled into a grin, half amused, half surprised. "First time you've admitted to liking something Touya's made."
The front door opened again, cold air rushing in with the sound of shuffling shoes. Footsteps echoed through the hall before a group entered the living room: Shoto and Izuku first, followed closely by Dawn, James, Sora—and trailing a little behind, Tenko.
The boy paused just inside, bowing stiffly. "H-Hello..."
Natsuo's brows rose, arms folding across his chest. "Tomura Shigaraki."
Tenko's expression tightened into a frown. "It's Tenko."
Enji's face twisted in confusion, and then disdain. "Why is there a baby villain in my home—?"
His words cut off with a startled grunt as Rei smacked his arm hard enough to make him jolt. "Be quiet!" she snapped, her voice sharper than usual.
Natsuo and Shoto couldn't help it; laughter burst out between them at the sight of Enji being scolded like a misbehaving child. Even Sora chuckled, shaking his head.
Everyone had settled in the family room, save for Fuyumi, who was in the kitchen stubbornly chopping carrots. Her knife hit the cutting board in sharp, repetitive thuds, the rhythm of someone determined to ignore the fact that her brother had already claimed this meal as his.
The front doors opened again, letting in a gust of winter air before shutting tight. Touya and Jess stepped inside with Frank following close behind, his arms loaded down with eight bags. They slipped off their shoes, hung their jackets neatly, and moved down the hall. For a moment, both Jess and Touya paused, their gazes turning toward the corridor that led to his old room.
Without speaking, they drifted left and walked down the familiar hallway. The door was closed, untouched. Touya's hand tightened in Jess's, his frown deepening as he reached out and slowly pushed it open.
He stepped in and froze. His eyes scanned the room, and his expression hardened. "Just how that asshole changed it... but the shrine is gone."
Jess's lips pulled into a soft frown of her own. "I miss the black walls from your mindscape..." she murmured.
Frank came in behind them, carefully balancing the bags. "If you want, Sir Touya, I can have this room repainted exactly how you left it."
Touya blinked at him, surprised, then allowed a small, genuine smile. "Do it. Let's see if I can find that plushie..."
He moved quickly to the closet, tugged the door open, and scowled at the emptiness inside. "Where the hell is all my stuff?"
Jess's brow furrowed, her eyes shifting to Frank. "Please put the gifts in the closet, then," she asked.
"Of course, Your Majesty," Frank replied smoothly, setting the bags down with care.
But Touya was already storming out of the room, anger tightening every line of his shoulders. Jess sighed and followed, her pace quickening to keep up. She could feel his temper crackling like embers about to flare.
They burst into the family room, Touya's voice sharp and demanding. "Old man, where is all my childhood stuff?!"
Enji's frown deepened, his heavy gaze lifting toward his son. "In storage. Fuyumi helped me vacuum seal it all and put it in the storage unit."
Touya's glare darkened. "What storage?"
Enji hesitated, eyes flicking away as if reluctant to admit it. "...In the Todoroki storage unit on the property. I have the key."
Touya's jaw clenched, but he gave a short nod. "Go get the key. I want my stuff back. And why the hell do I smell..." He trailed off, nostrils flaring.
Natsuo pinched the bridge of his nose. "She's ignoring your text. She's cooking, Touya."
A low growl escaped him, and without another word he stomped toward the kitchen, footsteps heavy with irritation.
Jess lingered for a moment, giving the room an apologetic sigh. "I'm going to make sure he doesn't snap too much. Enji, you better get Touya's stuff out of that storage. I want the gothic plushie."
Her tone was firm, not a suggestion but an expectation, before she turned and hurried after Touya.
In the family room, Rei's lips curved into a warm smile. "I love her," she said simply, her voice brimming with approval.
Natsuo chuckled under his breath. "She's so good for Touya-nii."
Shoto nodded once, steady and sure. "Very."
Izuku gave a small, earnest smile. "Yeah."
Tenko sat quietly, watching it all with wide, uncertain eyes. Dawn and James shared a chuckle at the scene, while Sora groaned, tipping his head back against the couch, his patience thinning with the day's chaos.
Touya stormed into the kitchen, the scent of fresh-cut vegetables already hanging in the air. His eyes narrowed instantly when he saw Fuyumi standing at the stove, her hand poised to light the burner. Without hesitation, he marched over and reached past her, clicking the stove off before it could even heat.
Her eyes widened as she whipped her head toward him.
"Fuyumi..." Touya's voice was low, tense. "I wanted to make dinner. I know you saw the message."
Fuyumi stiffened, her face tightening as she looked away. "J-Just because you're back doesn't give you the right to take over..." she hissed under her breath. "This is my kitchen."
Touya's frown deepened. When she reached for the knob again, he swatted her hand aside, sharp enough to make her flinch.
" Touya!" she snapped, her voice breaking louder than she intended. "Get out! I'm cooking! If you don't like it, then leave!"
His jaw locked, frustration boiling in his chest. "FUYUMI!"
The single shout rang through the kitchen, enough to make her jump. And right then, a presence filled the doorway—Rei, with Dawn beside her. Rei's frown was deep, her tone firm and maternal in a way that left no room for argument.
"Get out of the kitchen right now," Rei said coldly. "Don't you dare talk like that to your brother. Out."
Fuyumi's lips trembled, but instead of answering, she yanked her apron off with a dramatic tug and threw it onto a chair. Her footsteps thundered across the tile as she stomped out, brushing past Rei and Dawn without so much as a glance. Rei and Dawn followed her, their quiet disappointment trailing behind like a shadow.
The kitchen fell into tense silence. Touya stood rooted to the spot, staring at the stove with his fists clenching and unclenching. Finally, he muttered, voice low and uncertain. "Does she hate that I'm back from the dead or something?"
Jess stepped closer, her tone soft as she slipped an arm around him. "She's being compared to you, Touya. Everyone says your food's better, your drinks are better. What else is there for her to hold on to?"
He breathed sharply, shoulders sinking as the words hit. "I was better at school than her too," he admitted, almost bitterly. "I had the highest scores in middle school... and probably would've had them in high school too, if I hadn't lost control of my quirk."
Jess tilted her head, offering him a small, proud smile. "Did you tell your family you just got your GED? That you had the highest scores in your class?"
A smirk tugged at his lips, faint but real. "Mom, Natsuo, and Shoto know. Oh yeah... and Enji."
Jess chuckled softly, giving his waist a squeeze. "Then let the others find out the way they always do. Through you proving them wrong without even trying."
Touya glanced over the counter at the neat rows of ingredients Fuyumi had been preparing. At first, his brows furrowed in confusion, but then his expression twisted, his stomach giving an unpleasant lurch. "Mhmmm... what was she—wait... is that...?" His voice caught as he turned his face away, looking like he was about to gag.
Jess stepped closer, already catching the sharp smell. "Fish... but you hate fish." She wrinkled her nose lightly, then added teasingly, "At least you ate the lobster that one time."
Touya sighed heavily, rubbing the back of his neck. "It tasted okay... but this? What the hell... She knows I hate fish. Why would she try to cook it?" He leaned over the counter again, eyes narrowing at the trays. "Did she even get any beef? Chicken? Pork?"
Jess moved to the fridge and pulled open the door. After a quick scan, her frown deepened. "No... I don't see any."
Just then, Dawn stepped into the kitchen, her tone concerned. "Is something wrong?"
Jess turned toward her. "Mom, there's no beef—only fish. And Touya can't even be near it."
Touya had already stepped away from the counter, his face pale, hand pressed lightly against his mouth as if he could feel the nausea just from the smell.
Dawn gave him a reassuring pat on the arm. "Alright, me and Rei will go food shopping. What's on the menu?"
Touya crossed his arms, his tone sharp with frustration. "I was gonna make hot pot. Enji texted me earlier that there was no meat in the fridge. He would've Fuyumi pick it up for me... that's why she showed up carrying all those bags. I believed him. But this—" he gestured at the fish with disgust "—this is bullshit."
Rei peeked in through the doorway, her eyes softening. "You're going to make your grandmother's hot pot?"
Touya looked at her and gave a single, firm nod.
Rei's smile grew faint but warm, a memory sparking behind her gaze. "Come on, Dawn. I know exactly what Touya needs. Let's get rid of that fish and do it properly."
Dawn nodded, walking to the counter. She picked up the package of fish, holding it away from herself as if it were tainted, and carried it straight to the trash. "Good riddance."
Enji was in the storage unit on the property, royal guards standing near him as they carefully lifted sealed bags and containers. He didn't like their presence hovering over him, but he knew better than to shoo them away. The guards were efficient, carrying Touya's childhood belongings out of storage.
"We will take these to the embassy. Thank you, Todoroki," one of the guards said firmly.
Enji blinked, crouching down beside one of the stacks of vacuum-sealed bags. "Wait..." he muttered. His large hands pressed over the plastic as he inspected them, eyes scanning for any sign of the plushie he remembered Touya once won at a fair. He checked bag after bag, brows knitting tighter. He knew—he knew—he had never thrown it away.
But there was nothing.
Frowning, Enji rose to his feet and waved a hand. "The plushie is missing. I'll search for it. Go on, then."
The guards exchanged a look, but said nothing as they continued hauling the bags away toward the waiting transport. Enji stayed behind for a moment longer, glancing back into the storage unit. His gut told him what he already suspected—it wasn't in there. He closed the door, locked it, and turned back toward the house.
Walking through the halls, Enji's heavy steps slowed when he passed Touya's old room. The door was open, and inside River and Frank were at work. The space was completely cleared out, the walls already being painted black. A sharp pang of memory hit him, but he only sighed and kept moving.
Upstairs, he came to Fuyumi's room and knocked.
The door opened, and his daughter peeked out. "Oh hey, Daddy."
Enji's expression hardened. "Fuyumi... did you take Touya's plushie?"
Her eyes widened, and she bit her lip. "N-No! Why would I take that ugly gothic plushie? Dad, I'm twenty-three. Why would I even have that?"
Enji frowned, his voice dropping lower. "Fuyumi... I remember you used to try to steal it. Give it back... please."
For a moment, Fuyumi just stared at him, stunned by his persistence. Finally, she turned and walked into her room. Enji followed as she went to her closet, reaching up to the top shelf. Slowly, she pulled down the plushie and held it against her chest before walking back toward him.
"Here..." she muttered.
Enji stood there, hand half-extended toward the plushie when another, paler hand slipped past his. Both his and Fuyumi's eyes widened as Touya pulled the toy into his own arms, his expression "So you did have it..." Touya's voice was low, hurt simmering just beneath the surface. "The guards told me it was missing. I knew I wasn't crazy." He clutched the plushie protectively against his chest, like it was still the only thing in the world that had comforted him as a kid. His gaze cut to Fuyumi, sharp and wounded. "Fuyumi... why are you acting this way towards me?"
Fuyumi stiffened, lips parting as if to deny it, but the guilt in her eyes betrayed her. "I—I just... I didn't want Mom or Dad throwing it away. You were gone. You were dead. I kept it safe, I swear." Her voice cracked, but her defensive edge lingered. "But... you came back and suddenly everything is about you again. Your cooking, your grades, your quirk, your stupid plushie..."
Touya's jaw clenched, the words hitting harder than he wanted them to. He swallowed and lowered his voice, though it trembled. "Do you even hear yourself? You're mad because I came back alive?"
Enji frowned, shifting slightly between them, though his tone was softer than usual. "Fuyumi..."
But Touya didn't back down. He hugged the plushie tighter, like it anchored him. "This... this was the only thing I had before Mom broke and Dad ignored me. You tried to steal it from me back then, and you're still trying to steal from me now. Why? Just tell me why."
Fuyumi bit her lip hard, tears brimming at her eyes, but no words came out. The silence pressed heavy in the room until she finally broke it. "You became a villain... you tried to kill Dad... you killed people... you even tried to kill Shoto. And you got a slap on the wrist. You should have been in a detention center with the rest of the villains."
Touya's eyes widened, but instead of snapping, he let out a long, unsteady sigh. "Fuyumi... all the people I killed weren't innocent. Dad was briefed on it. They were thugs, abusers, traffickers, drug dealers—really bad people. I even saved a girl once from being dragged into a van when I was on the streets." His voice sharpened, steady now with conviction. "I may have been a villain, but I had a code. I stuck by it. I don't condone abuse. I don't condone murder for fun."
He glanced at her, eyes flashing. "Even when Bakugo was kidnapped, I hated it. But I did what I was told—and I made sure that kid was untouched. I had to hold Toga back from cutting him, because I wasn't going to let her harm him. So no, I don't care what you thought of me being a villain, and I won't apologize for following my own code."
His words cut like ice. "Stop being Daddy's little princess and grow the fuck up." With that, he turned sharply and walked out.
Enji exhaled heavily, his gaze shifting back to his daughter. "He... has a point, Fuyumi."
Her eyes widened in disbelief. "But Dad—!"
Enji raised a hand, silencing her. "You ignored everyone's text. Even mine. I asked you to get meat for Touya's cooking, and instead you brought fish. Why? You know he hates fish. Even I still remember he hates fish."
Fuyumi lowered her gaze to the floor, her voice thin. "I... don't know..."
Enji studied her for a long moment, then his tone hardened. "You were jealous."
Her eyes widened, lips parting in denial, but Enji only nodded. "I know you're an adult. But I never disciplined you—not really. Maybe I grounded Natsuo once or twice, but you? Never. And now... for you to act like a child? Enough." His voice was calm, but the weight behind it left no room for argument. "You are grounded until dinner. After that, you will never step foot in that kitchen again. It belongs to Touya and your mother."
Fuyumi's mouth dropped open in shock. "Dad—!"
But Enji had already turned away. "I've said my peace. Stay in your room until dinner. And I expect you to join us at the table, either way." With that, he left, his footsteps heavy as he disappeared down the hall.
Fuyumi stood frozen for a moment, then closed her door quietly, her expression dark and conflicted.
Back in the living room, Natsuo groaned loudly as he slammed a card down on the table. He, Sora, Shoto, and Izuku were huddled around playing UNO, the pile of cards growing tall with each round of playful bickering.
Jess sat comfortably on the couch, one hand resting on her belly, a soft smile on her lips as she watched the boys argue over rules. Beside her, Tenko was hunched forward with wide-eyed focus, his hands wrapped around a sleek new handheld gaming PC—its screen glowing bright with colors. It was a gift from James, who leaned casually against the armrest with a smug little grin, watching Tenko figure out the controls.
Tenko's voice was hushed, almost reverent. "This... this is mine?"
James chuckled. "Yeah, kid. Consider it a start at making up for lost time."
Jess leaned over slightly, smiling at the sight. "It suits you, Tenko."
Tenko's lips curved in the smallest, shyest smile as the screen reflected in his pale eyes. For the first time since he had walked into the Todoroki estate, he looked less like a villain and more like the boy he had been before everything went wrong. "You sure you're okay with me playing next to you? I... I hope it won't bring up bad memories."
Jess breathed softly and tapped him gently on the head. "I'm fine, Tenko. You're not the only patient of Atsuhiro Sako."
Tenko paused his game and looked up at her in surprise. "You're seeing Mr. Compress too?"
Jess nodded. "He got his license officially. Have you been hanging out with your old pals?"
A small smile tugged at Tenko's lips. "Yeah. Spinner and I played Mario Kart the other day."
James chuckled, arms crossed. "Spinner totally lost. And Twice—he's got a job now. Works in the embassy as a janitor in the medical center. Geten went back home to the Himura estate. Rei's brother was over the moon to see him again, though he chewed him out pretty good."
Touya walked in just then, sliding down onto the couch beside Jess. His hand naturally found hers as he sat, his lips tugging into a grin. "It was funny as hell when Mom told us all."
Tenko brightened, his eyes gleaming with that rare spark of playfulness. "Dabi, we should play Mortal Kombat again."
Touya blinked at him, then smirked wide, a little fire in his eyes. "I'll still kick your ass in that game."
Tenko snorted, clutching his handheld tighter. "Yeah, we'll see about that."
Jess laughed softly at the banter, leaning her head against Touya's shoulder as the warm buzz of family filled the room.
Rei and Dawn finally returned, arms full of bags as they slipped off their coats and headed straight for the kitchen. Touya and Jess were already there, setting up the dinner table with bowls, chopsticks, and plates, preparing for the hot pot Touya had planned. Rei stepped closer, her eyes softening as she held up the familiar gothic plushie. "Wow... it still looks brand new."
From the family room, Enji glanced up from the TV. His voice was steady, almost too steady. "Fuyumi had it."
Natsuo's head whipped around, his eyes narrowing in disbelief. "Fuyumi stole it?!"
Enji didn't look at him, only gave a solemn nod.
Shoto studied his father closely, frowning. "Dad... why are you so content? You okay? You're... acting strange."
Enji turned his gaze to him, the weight of years etched into his expression, though softer than it used to be. "I finally came to terms with Touya being back. And as Jess said earlier, her and Tenko aren't the only ones seeing Sako for therapy."
Both Shoto's and Natsuo's eyes widened, shock freezing them in place.
Sora leaned back on the floor, stretching with a sigh as the warmth from the kotatsu seeped into his skin. The moment felt almost peaceful—until his phone buzzed. He raised it above him, eyes flicking over the screen. His expression darkened as he pushed himself upright. "I have a job to do."
Dawn frowned at him, her tone sharp but maternal. "Sora."
Before she could continue, James's voice cut through, calm but commanding. "Sit back down. Your job offer can wait until later."
Sora froze, then turned, frowning hard. "Dad..."
"No." James's face was unreadable, but his voice carried finality. "Your assassin job can wait."
The room stilled. Eyes widened, mouths dropped open—Shoto, Natsuo, even Enji—all staring in shock.
Dawn hummed low in her throat, folding her arms. "Sit down."
Groaning, Sora slumped back into his spot at the table, dropping his phone beside him. With a frustrated huff, he smacked his forehead lightly against the wooden edge of the kotatsu. The room sat heavy with the weight of truths finally being dragged out into the open.
Touya and Jess came out of the kitchen together, carrying the heavy hot pot between them. The fragrant steam of broth, beef, and vegetables filled the family room, making everyone's stomachs growl in anticipation. Touya set the pot down right in the middle of the low table, plugging it into the heavy-duty extension cord Jess had stretched across. Once it started to gently bubble, they sat down side by side, their shoulders brushing in an unspoken comfort.
Rei, with a small smile, handed Jess the gothic plushie. Jess's eyes lit up as she accepted it, hugging it close to her chest and snuggling it like it was already part of her family too.
Enji's voice broke the warm silence, slightly raised but not harsh. "Fuyumi, you can join us now."
A door creaked open down the hall, footsteps padding closer. Fuyumi walked into the room, her eyes immediately landing on Jess hugging the plushie. Her frown was brief but sharp before she sat stiffly beside her father without a word. The tension around her was heavy, though no one said anything directly.
Touya leaned forward, gently stirring and moving the food around in the hot pot. The broth rippled, the slices of beef darkening at the edges while the tofu and vegetables soaked up the flavors.
Natsuo practically drooled, leaning in with wide eyes. "Mhmmmmm... what type of tofu did you use?"
Touya didn't look up, just answered evenly. "Hiyayakko. Non-fish tofu. The same Grandma used."
Natsuo's grin widened. "Oh, hell yes—"
"Not done yet, Natsuo. Wait."
Natsuo slumped back, pouting dramatically, earning a round of chuckles from Shoto and even Izuku, who had been quietly observing the whole family dynamic with awe.
The hot pot continued to bubble, carrying with it not just the scent of comfort food, but the sense of something else—maybe, just maybe, the start of mending broken bonds.
Enji cleared his throat at the table, his deep voice carrying just enough to draw Touya's attention. "Touya."
Touya looked up from where he was stirring the hot pot, brows raised. "What?"
Enji's lips twitched into something that almost resembled a smile. "Congrats on getting your GED."
For a moment, Touya blinked, caught off guard. Then Rei's face lit up, her smile soft and motherly. "Good job, honey." Shoto and Natsuo both nodded in agreement, small but genuine smiles tugging at their lips.
Natsuo chuckled as he leaned back. "So what's next, college?"
Touya shrugged, still stirring. "Maybe. But right now my focus is on Jess. She wants to start her own bakery, and I want to help her with it."
Dawn's eyes brightened with excitement. "Ooooh, what will the name be?"
Jess's smile was wide and proud. "Supernova Bakery. All galaxy-themed."
Izuku's eyes widened almost comically. "Bakugo will lose his shit if he finds out. He loves your cooking. The first time he tried it—when we were five—he said he fell in love."
The room burst into laughter, Dawn nearly snorting. "He even asked you to marry him! That's so cute!"
Jess flushed red, covering her face with one hand. "That was years ago!"
Touya's frown was sharp and immediate. "A five-year-old asked to marry my woman?!"
James laughed so hard he had to steady himself on the table. "It was years ago, Touya. Jess was only thirteen when Bakugo said that. She just patted his head and told him she was already taken—she was dating Rick back then."
Touya's stirring slowed, his frown deepening. "Wait... who's Rick?"
Jess's expression darkened, her shoulders tensing. "My ex-boyfriend. He... died in my arms when I was sixteen. Can we not talk about Rick anymore?"
The table quieted. Sora frowned sympathetically, while Dawn and James simply nodded in agreement, letting it drop. Dawn quickly brightened again, shifting the mood. "So then! When will you two start the bakery?"
Touya glanced at Jess, then smirked, voice casual but teasing. "Private."
Gasps of mock offense rippled around the table. Jess nudged him with her elbow, but Touya only grinned and gave the hot pot another stir. "Alright, Mom. You're first to taste test."
Rei's eyes sparkled as she took her bowl, gently filling it with broth, meat, and tofu. Everyone leaned in, watching her blow on the hot food before taking a careful bite of the beef, then a sip of the broth.
Her eyes closed and her lips curved into a nostalgic smile. "Mhmmm. Perfect. Just like your grandma's."
Touya's chest swelled with quiet pride, his smile soft but genuine. "Alright—everyone dig in!"
Everyone leaned back from the kotatsu, bellies full and satisfied, the empty hot pot resting at the center like proof of their shared feast. Natsuo tapped his stomach with a groan of exaggerated contentment, "Ughhh, I don't think I can move for a week."
Shoto leaned lazily into Izuku, who chuckled softly, the two wrapped in an easy warmth. "That was so good," Izuku admitted, his eyes half-closed in bliss. Shoto gave him a rare, genuine smile. "Bakugo's going to be upset he missed this." Izuku snorted, already imagining the explosion of anger.
Rei, cradling her tea cup, exhaled with a serene expression. "If my mother were still alive, she'd be proud of you, Touya."
Touya's face softened with pride and a bright smile. "I know she would. Grandpa, though... he'd still be a prick. Him and the old man are cut from the same cloth."
Enji's brow furrowed at the jab, but he held his tongue, quietly sipping his own tea. Across the table, Fuyumi sat with her head down, silent. She had missed Touya's cooking—missed the warmth of it—but the sting of being outdone again by the Himura recipes burned bitterly in her chest.
Sora suddenly sighed, breaking the cozy silence. "So, can I leave now? I've got a job to do."
Before he could stand, Jess was already moving. In a flash, she had him on the floor, locking him in a perfect Cross Arm Breaker. His arm strained under the hold as she leaned back with flawless precision.
"AGHH! Okay! I tap! OW! Jess, please!! I need this arm!" Sora gasped, frantically tapping the floor.
Jess released him at once, rolling to her feet with a smooth motion. Without missing a beat, she gave him a swift kick to the gut that sent him sliding across the tatami until he hit the wall with a grunt.
"Frank!" she called, voice sharp.
Within minutes, Frank entered the room, his expression neutral despite the glaring black handprint painted across his face. Everyone blinked at him in stunned silence.
"Forgive how I look," Frank said dryly, as though it was nothing. "River thought it was funny to put a painted handprint on my face."
A chorus of muffled laughter rippled around the table. Jess chuckled lightly, shaking her head. "Of course she did." Then her voice sharpened with authority, "Gifts. Bring them."
The mood shifted instantly, anticipation thickening the air as everyone straightened in their seats.
Frank returned within minutes, carrying a bag full of gifts. Jess and Touya passed them around before sitting back down together with quiet anticipation.
"Alright, everyone, open them up," Touya announced.
Each person reached inside the bag. Rei and Dawn pulled theirs out first—matching white mugs decorated with flowers and bold lettering that read: World's Best Grandma. Their eyes widened as they looked at each other.
James and Enji followed. James chuckled, holding up a mug that said World's Best Grandpa. Enji, however, scowled down at his own. His read in big block letters: Grumpy Grandpa. That earned a ripple of laughter across the table.
Next, Natsuo, Shoto, and Sora opened theirs. Natsuo and Shoto each received mugs that declared: This mug belongs to the world's best uncle. But when Sora lifted his, his face froze. His mug read: World's overbearing, walking sister complex. His eyes widened in disbelief while the room erupted in laughter.
Even Tenko had a mug tucked in the bag. He blinked when he pulled his out: Future Gaming Buddy.
Everyone turned to Fuyumi, who reached into her bag, only to find no mug—just a single envelope. Blinking in confusion, she carefully opened it.
The room went silent as she slowly pulled out the black-and-white image inside. Her hands trembled, her eyes widening. She wasn't the only one—everyone leaned forward as realization sank in.
It was an ultrasound.
Dawn's voice broke the silence, her jaw dropping as she stared at Jess and Touya.
"You're pregnant... with TWINS?!"
Everyone froze, staring at the ultrasound in Fuyumi's hands. The silence was heavy until Jess sighed softly, her eyes flicking toward Izuku.
"Sorry, Izuku... I didn't mean for you to find out this way. Shoto was supposed to tell you first."
Izuku's wide, sparkling eyes softened into a bright smile as he reached forward to accept the envelope. "It's okay, cuss. Congrats on the babies! Mom's gonna be so happy."
Jess giggled, cheeks warm. "Thanks, Izuku!"
Rei's hands trembled as tears welled up in her eyes. "Oh... I'm going to be a grandma."
Dawn nearly bounced in her seat, holding up her mug proudly. "YEAH! And I'm a grandma too!"
James turned his mug in his hand, studying the ultrasound with a rare, serious expression. "Twins... that's rare, even in my family. But with the Mikcloud line, it makes sense."
Rei dabbed her eyes and added warmly, "It's common in the Himura family, too."
Enji sat stiffly, gripping his mug, voice low. "It's... not common in the Todoroki family. I... I'm going to be a grandpa."
Touya looked up sharply at him, tone firm. "You will not train my kids the way you did me and Shoto. Hell, training them at all will be off-limits. What you did wasn't training—you know it wasn't."
Enji's eyes dropped, his face shadowed. "...Yes. I know."
The tension broke when Fuyumi, who had been sitting silent and still, finally spoke. Her voice cracked with a mix of disbelief and bitterness. "Touya... where's my mug?"
Touya raised an eyebrow. "Sorry, but jealousy doesn't deserve one."
Her eyes widened, her face twisting with hurt. She suddenly stood, slamming the ultrasound picture down on the table so hard Jess flinched. "This is stupid!"
"Fuyumi, stop it," Rei scolded, frowning.
"NO!" Fuyumi's voice rose, shaking. "You won't give me a mug because of some stupid plushie?!"
Touya only stared back at her, his expression cold and empty.
Jess, however, calmly lifted her soda, took a slow sip, and then fixed Fuyumi with a dead stare that froze the room. Her voice was low, but sharp as a blade. "You will not speak to Touya like that again. Or I will treat you the same way I treated Sora. I will not hesitate to put you in your place."
The weight of her tone made Sora visibly shiver; he ducked behind James, hiding like a scolded child. James only sighed but smirked faintly at Jess's words.
Fuyumi bit her lip hard, fear flickering in her eyes. She knew it wasn't an empty threat. She sat back down slowly, shoulders hunched, and gave a stiff nod.
"Do I make myself clear?" Jess asked, voice calm but deadly serious.
"...Yes," Fuyumi whispered, her voice breaking.
Touya smirked, leaning closer to Jess with a mischievous gleam in his eyes. "God, that was hot."
Jess chuckled under her breath, shaking her head.
Tenko slowly scooted closer, his posture uncertain. His gloved hand twitched slightly as he looked at Jess. "Can I... feel?"
Touya frowned instantly, his eyes narrowing with suspicion, but Jess's smile was warm and reassuring. "Sure," she said gently.
Tenko's breath hitched as he shakily reached out. His gloved palm rested lightly against her stomach. There was no movement yet—she was barely beginning to show a small curve—but just the contact made his throat tighten. Twins... He blinked, almost overwhelmed. "I'm... happy for you and Dabi."
Jess's smile softened further. "Thank you, Tenko."
Touya snorted, smirking over the rim of his soda can. "Remember—she's mine now, kid."
Jess arched a brow at him. "Touya, be nice."
He only took another sip, savoring his victory, the smirk never leaving his lips.
Natsuo leaned forward curiously. "So... how far along are you?"
Jess beamed. "Four and a half weeks pregnant."
Natsuo blinked, then gave a low whistle. "So, about a month... which means..." He trailed off with a knowing grin.
Touya's grin widened instantly. Jess flushed scarlet and buried her face in her hands.
Natsuo broke into laughter. "Wow, Touya. You're the first out of all of us to become a father. Me and my girl aren't even planning until after we're married."
"Oh, the mouse girl you're dating?" Touya asked with a mischievous lift of his brow.
Natsuo nodded, still chuckling. "Yeah. That one."
The warmth of May settled gently over the city, and the changes in Jess's body were impossible to miss. At six months and two weeks, her belly had blossomed, round and prominent, the undeniable sign that the twins were thriving. The embassy was long behind them now — its marble halls and diplomatic pressures replaced by the quieter comfort of a place that was wholly their own. The double building they had bought had become the anchor of their new life together, its presence on the street already drawing curious glances as renovations continued.
The apartment above the bakery had grown into a true reflection of them — spacious yet intimate, carrying Japanese design lines but softened by the choices Jess and Touya had layered into it. The wide rooms flowed naturally together, lit by tall windows that let in generous light during the day. The living area had become their center, with its balance of sleek black furniture and Jess's preference for textures — a deep rug underfoot, soft throws draped across the couch, and shelves where Touya had carefully placed small plants and incense burners.
The master bedroom was perhaps the clearest statement of their shared taste. The dark walls embraced them like twilight, the star-patterned bedding contrasting against the shadows in a way that made the space feel like a continuation of the night sky. Jess loved how the curtains moved when the breeze caught them, and Touya often lingered there longer than he admitted, watching the calm that seemed to settle around her in that room.
Construction noises rose from downstairs, muted but steady, as the lower half of the building transformed into the bakery. Jess had the plans spread out on the low table in the living area — carefully sketched layouts of where the ovens would go, where the cases would sit, how she wanted the flow of the shop to feel. Her hand rested on her belly as she leaned back against the cushions, tracing circles absently over the curve of her six-and-a-half-month pregnancy. The twins kicked often now, and Touya had developed a habit of brushing his hand over her stomach as if to answer them back.
It was blissful—just yesterday they had learned their twins were girls. The news still pulsed through Jess like a song she couldn't stop humming, and Touya hadn't stopped smirking since. He had claimed the sofa with his arm thrown lazily across the back, but anyone could see the restless excitement radiating from him. His little princesses. Two of them.
They hadn't told the family yet, keeping the secret tucked between them like a shared treasure. Jess had already planned how to reveal it: a private chain of photos, her six-month belly wrapped in two silky purple ribbons, tied neat and deliberate against her bump. The shot would be simple but clear—the color, the doubled tie—announcing daughters to everyone at once.
Touya was beside himself. He'd already started calling them his girls, his little princesses, like they'd been waiting all this time just for him. Sometimes, when Jess lay against him on their dark, cocoon-like bed, he would rest his hand on her stomach and whisper nonsense as though they could hear, as though his voice could imprint love before they ever opened their eyes.
The bakery downstairs was still clanging with the sound of construction, but the apartment above was warm, glowing with plans. On the console by the kitchen, the ribbons already lay folded, waiting for tomorrow. Jess smiled just seeing them there—two strands of purple silk, waiting to tell the world what she and Touya already knew in their bones.
It was blissful—just yesterday they had learned their twins were girls. The news still pulsed through Jess like a song she couldn't stop humming, and Touya hadn't stopped smirking since. He had claimed the sofa with his arm thrown lazily across the back, but anyone could see the restless excitement radiating from him. His little princesses. Two of them.
They hadn't told the family yet, keeping the secret tucked between them like a shared treasure. Jess had already planned how to reveal it: a private chain of photos, her six-month belly wrapped in two silky purple ribbons, tied neat and deliberate against her bump. The shot would be simple but clear—the color, the doubled tie—announcing daughters to everyone at once.
The apartment itself felt alive with their anticipation. Downstairs, the bakery remodel rattled with construction noise, but upstairs it was warm and personal. On the console by the kitchen, the folded ribbons already waited, a reminder of what tomorrow would bring. Jess caught herself smiling every time her eyes drifted to them.
Anubis, their proud guardian, perched high on his gothic cat tree near the balcony doors. His silver fur shimmered faintly in the afternoon light, sleek and patterned like liquid moonlight, while his golden eyes tracked the birds darting just beyond the glass. His long tail swished lazily, but his regal posture gave the impression of a sentry keeping watch over his kingdom.
Sometimes, when Jess laughed at Touya's over-the-top grins, she caught Anubis studying her with an almost knowing look, as though he too shared in the secret of what grew beneath her heart. The family may not have known yet, but in this loft, their little world already felt complete—Jess, Touya, and Anubis, waiting for the day their twin princesses would arrive.
The hours slipped by in warmth and laughter, the purple ribbons still snug around Jess's belly. When the light outside softened into late afternoon, Touya nudged Jess's phone toward her with a smirk. "Ready to tell the whole family?"
Jess gave a little laugh, brushing a strand of red hair back over her shoulder. "I've been ready all day." With a quick snap of her fingers, the chain photo was sent out to both families at once.
The replies came almost instantly.
King Jetter's voice filled the line first, sharp and strong even through a simple voice message: "Twin grand-nieces!... I couldn't be more proud. Your Auntie Violet, my lovely Queen says congrats!"
'Mother' Dawn sent back a teary video, her eyes shimmering as she pressed her hand over her heart. "Girls! My beautiful Jess, I knew it—this is the best news I could ever ask for."
Yuki typed so fast his message was barely legible: "MY GOD—two cousins?? Double the fashion, double the fun. I'm designing right now. Don't stop me."
'Dad' James chimed in a second later, his voice grinning even if his face wasn't seen: "Wait. Two? TWO?! ...Best day ever. Two granddaughters! I'm so happy"
'Brother' Sora Oh that chime made Jess smile, Oh my sweet baby nieces! I will history a whole thug base for these two!
Tenko a chime came from him, Congrats Jess and Dabi, I'm happy for you two. Love Tenko
From the Todoroki side, the notifications came like steady heartbeats.
'mom' Rei- Twin girls... I can't believe it. Jess, Touya—you're giving me the gift of being a grandmother all over again. Thank you.
Shoto's text was short but meaningful: Two nieces. I'll protect them.
Fuyumi- her text made Touya frown: congrats...
Natsuo followed with a casual drawl, his words almost audible through his typed message: Two nieces? Guess I'll just have to spoil them rotten. You're in trouble.
And then, last of all, Enji Todoroki. His reply was a simple text: Congratulations. Touya, Jess. Hope you two are doing well Jess's heart softened at the thought. Touya sighs, he hasn't forgiven his father yet for all the stuff he did to him and Shoto and the rest of the family.
The group chat filled with hearts, exclamation marks, and playful teasing until Jess had to set her phone aside, cheeks sore from smiling. Touya slipped an arm around her, his turquoise eyes never leaving the soft swell of her belly.
"Twin daughters," he murmured again, brushing his thumb over the purple ribbons. "Our little princesses."
On his perch, Anubis flicked his silver tail, golden eyes glowing in the twilight. He blinked slowly at them, regal and knowing, as if he too understood the shift in the air.
August 5th arrived with a heavy haze of tension and hope. Jess had been brought swiftly into the Embassy Medical maternity center, her contractions already strong. Touya stayed at her side from the first moment, refusing to leave her for even a second, his hand clutched in hers through every wave of pain.
Inside the delivery room, Dr. Vi oversaw everything with calm precision, just as Jess and Touya had requested. Natsuo, now an intern, assisted with nervous determination. It felt strange to him—his sister-in-law in labor, his older brother on edge, and himself in scrubs doing real work to help bring two new lives into the world.
The hours dragged into a full twenty-four, filled with Jess's cries, Touya's quiet encouragements, and the rhythmic orders of Dr. Vi. At last, the moment came. The first wail pierced the air—Aerith, with raspberry red hair and porcelain-pale skin. Then came Elvira, her cry softer but steady, her tiny tuft of white hair almost glowing under the lights. Both girls blinked their newborn seafoam eyes—an uncanny blend of Jess's green and Touya's turquoise.
Outside in the waiting room, the rest of the family was gathered in anxious silence. Dawn could hardly sit still, wringing her hands until James took them in his own, his calm voice grounding her. Sora leaned forward, restless, his heel bouncing against the floor. Yuki tapped endlessly at his phone, his mind already racing with designs for two little nieces. Tenko sat slightly apart but not withdrawn, his golden-red eyes thoughtful, the corner of his mouth twitching in a faint, almost shy smile.
On the Todoroki side, Rei sat with her hands folded tight, whispering quiet prayers. Shoto sat still as stone, but his sharp eyes flickered with nerves every time footsteps echoed in the hallway. Fuyumi stared at the clock, whispering to herself now and again, while Enji kept his posture rigid, his jaw tight, the weight of memory and regret heavy on his shoulders.
Then, at last, the door opened.
Touya stepped out, his white hair disheveled, exhaustion carved into his face—but his turquoise eyes were alight with pride. Beside him, Nurse Mai carefully wheeled out the twin bassinet, where the two swaddled girls rested in soft purple blankets.
"Everyone," Touya said, his voice steady but thick with emotion, "meet Aerith and Elvira."
The waiting room erupted in movement. Dawn pressed both hands to her mouth as tears streamed freely down her cheeks. James slipped an arm around her shoulders, his own smile soft and full of pride. "Wow I'm a grandpa to two precious granddaughters."
Sora nearly tripped over himself to get closer, his eyes wide. "My sweet baby nieces..." he whispered, wonder written across his face.
Yuki made a choked noise that turned into half a laugh. "Two! Oh my god—two little princesses! Do you know what this means for fashion?!" His words tumbled out in a rush, drawing watery laughter from Dawn even as she wiped her eyes.
Tenko leaned forward, his voice low but warm. "Congrats, Touya. They're beautiful."
Rei covered her mouth, tears spilling down her cheeks as she stepped closer. "Twin girls... I can't believe it. They're perfect."
Shoto's gaze softened as he stared down at the bassinet. "Aerith and Elvira," he murmured, as if carving the names into memory. "I'll protect them. Congrats Touya-nii"
Fuyumi said only one word, her voice trembling, but it was enough: "Congrats...."
Natsuo finally emerged after scrubbing out, fatigue etched in his features but a grin spreading wide when he saw his newborn nieces. "Two nieces!" he said with a laugh. "Guess I'll just have to spoil them rotten. You're in trouble now."
Even Enji rose slowly to his feet, his voice low and rough but clear. "Congratulations, Touya. They're... beautiful." His gaze lingered on the twins, then cautiously flicked toward his son, something unspoken weighing heavy between them.
Touya's hand remained on the bassinet as the family pressed closer, every heart pulled toward the tiny forms inside. The room filled with tears, smiles, laughter, and the awe of new life, as the two little girls—Aerith and Elvira—were welcomed into the world by every waiting soul.
Notes:
STORY IS FINISHED! There will be no chapter 25, maybe in the future I will write a Sequel to the story.
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TheBlueMoonRose on Chapter 2 Thu 14 Aug 2025 02:11AM UTC
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TheBlueMoonRose on Chapter 22 Fri 15 Aug 2025 03:19PM UTC
Last Edited Fri 15 Aug 2025 03:21PM UTC
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TheBlueMoonRose on Chapter 22 Sun 17 Aug 2025 03:43PM UTC
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TheBlueMoonRose on Chapter 24 Sun 17 Aug 2025 10:06PM UTC
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