….
"Don't look at me like that, Shouta."
Dabi drops his hand from his face to glare–
"I caught him myself with proof. What else do you need me to do?"
"And yet, he's still locked, shaking like a wet leaf." Aizawa replied dryly, tucking his tablet under his arm–
"His parents are currently being held in a secure liaison wing by Tsukauchi's men, and they confessed to everything the moment All For One's defeat was confirmed, terrified enough that the boy hasn't eaten anything except broth for two days because he thinks every shadow on the wall is an assassin coming to finish him off."
Rumi shifted Himiko higher onto her hip, clicking her tongue. "Can't blame the kid for being spooked. The boogeyman basically owned his spine since he was four years old. That kind of leash leaves a mark."
Himiko asked. "Is the sparkly boy in timeout, Papa? Like the fire grandpa?"
"Something like that, goblin." Dabi murmured, reaching over to lightly ruffle her blonde hair before glancing back down at Eri.
The little girl was still clutching his thumb.
She looked up at him, tilting her head with quiet curiosity. "Does the sparkly boy need a gentle breath too, Papa?"
"No, bean." Dabi said softly, kneeling down on one knee so he was eye-level with her. "His body isn't broken like the grape kid's was. His head is just full of bad dreams and loud ghosts."
"Rumi's taking you and Himi upstairs to the faculty lounge. Nezu has fresh tea, and there's still half a box of melon buns in the car. I am gonna go talk to the kid for five minutes, and then we're going home. Deal?"
Eri beamed, nodding with sweet, absolute trust. "Deal."
"See yaa." Dabi stood back up and shot a look toward Rumi.
"See yaa." Rumi moved on too.
Aizawa fell into step beside Dabi, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, his capture weapon rustling faintly with each stride.
"Tsukauchi wants to know how we're handling his U.A. status." Aizawa reported. "Technically, he committed treason. Under standard penal code, a student acting as an espionage conduit for a dark organisation would be remanded to a juvenile correctional facility indefinitely, regardless of coercion."
"Screw the penal code." Dabi muttered, his eyes narrowing into cold slits. "You throw that kid into a cell, and you're just proving the potato-headed bastard right. All For One gives a quirkless kid a toy, puts a gun to his parents' heads, and the 'just' society locks the kid in a cage for surviving? It's pathetic."
"Nezu agrees with you." Aizawa admitted. "He's already drafted a protection agreement. We classify Aoyama as an involuntary asset under extreme duress. But that only works if the boy can actually function without crumbling into a panic attack every time someone looks in his direction."
"He will function." Dabi said flatly. "I didn't break his bad habits during basic training just to let him rot over a dead man's shadow."
They stopped in front of Cell C-12.
Unlike the medical bay where Mineta had been chained to a mechanized cot, this room was a standard, soundproofed interview chamber.
A low-frequency quirk-suppression collar was loosely fitted around the boy's neck, mostly a formality to prevent accidental discharges of his navel laser.
Through the reinforced one-way glass, Yuga Aoyama sat hunched over a steel table.
His immaculate, shimmering blond hair was a tangled mess; the flamboyant sparkle that defined his entire personality had been completely stripped away.
He was clutching his stomach, his knees pulled up against the chair, tears silently carving tracks through the dried grime on his pale face.
Every time a sound was heard, his entire body flinched.
Dabi didn't bother knocking, as he swiped his clearance card, and the lock clicked open.
Aoyama violently jerked upright, eyes snapping toward the entrance; when he saw the towering silhouette of his instructor, every ounce of color drained from his face.
A gasp hitched in his throat.
"D-Dabi... sensei..." He choked out, frantically scrambling backward until his chair screeched loudly against the floor, pressing his back flush against the wall–
"I-I... I didn't mean to... m-my mother, my father... he was going to kill them! He was going to take everything away! P-Please... s-shoot me... just don't hurt them, s'il vous plaît... I am a monster and a disgusting traitor, I–"
"Sit down for a second…" Dabi said.
Aoyama's jaw clamped shut with an audible click, his teeth chattering uncontrollably as he dropped his hands to his knees hard.
Dabi pulled out the metal chair across from him, dragged it across the floor, and spun it around, sitting backward with his arms folded over the backrest.
He just stared at the boy.
"You done crying?" Dabi asked quietly.
Aoyama hiccuped, completely unable to hold Dabi's gaze for more than a split second. "I... I gave him the coordinates... for the training camp. If anyone had died... if Bakugo had–"
"Nobody died." Dabi cut him off. "The camp was a mess, but the League got crushed. And the potato-faced bastard who put that leash around your family's neck?"
"He is no more too. He's dead, Aoyama. Dead."
Aoyama swallowed hard. "B-But... the things I did... can you ever... can you forgive me, sensei...?"
Dabi stared at him.
Then, he let out a scoff that held zero warmth.
"Forgive you?" He leaned forward. "What the hell do I have to forgive you for? You think you hurt me?"
Aoyama shrank back, blinking through wet eyelashes.
"I never trusted you in the first place." Dabi said bluntly, not bothering to dress up the truth. "I don't trust anyone in that damn building except the people who sleep under my roof, kid, so you never had my trust to begin with, but you did put my life in danger by putting theirs at risk."
He pointed his thumb back toward the hallway, toward the world above.
"The ones who called you their friend, shared their lunch with you, helped you study, and dismissed your stupid glitter acts as nothing more than the quirks of a goofy classmate, those twenty kids are the ones you sold out to save your own skin, and they're the ones you have to look in the eye."
Aoyama flinched as if struck across the face, his head dropping so low his chin pressed painfully against his chest–
"They... they will despise me..."
"Yeah. Probably." Dabi said, devoid of pity. "Some of them might understand after a while, some might take months or years, and some might never look at you the same way again for the rest of your life, because that's the bill you ran up, sparkly, and you broke something that doesn't just glue itself back together because you said sorry."
Dabi stood up, pushing the chair back with a dull screech.
"By the end of this week, Nezu is moving the entire class into the new on-campus dorms, so every kid in 1-A and 1-B will be living within the campus with round-the-clock security. Your parents are already in protective custody under U.A.'s payroll, which means nobody is hunting them and nobody is coming for you."
Dabi walked up to the edge of the table, looking down at the trembling boy with an unyielding gaze.
"So here's the deal. You can sit in this room, play the tragic victim, let the Commission toss you into a juvenile cell, and spend the next ten years crying about how unfair your life was."
He paused, letting the silence settle like lead.
"Or... you put your uniform on, walk into those dorms with the rest of them, own the betrayal you have committed, take every ounce of disgust they throw at you, and still stand on your own two feet with your back straight, while spending every single day earning back their trust you threw away if it all possible."
Dabi tilted his head slightly, his eyes boring straight into Aoyama's soul.
"It's gonna feel like hell and hurt every single morning you wake up, so ask yourself right now, kid, are you actually up for that, or are you just gonna roll over and quit?"
Aoyama sat as he remained trapped by the fear that had paralyzed him for years, turning him into a puppet pulled by invisible strings.
Slowly, painfully, Aoyama lifted his head.
His eyes were still rimmed with red, tears still drying against his cheeks, but beneath the shame, a faint spark of resolve finally flickered to life.
"I... I don't want to run away anymore." Aoyama choked out, his voice shaking, but his hands clamping into tight fists over his knees. "Even if... even if they hate me forever... I want to stand with them…"
Dabi stared at him for a second longer, then let out a noncommittal grunt, turning his back toward the door.
"Then stop dripping all over the furniture."
He reached the threshold, knocking twice on the steel plate.
"Get cleaned up. Aizawa's bringing your bag in twenty minutes. If you miss a roll call in a week, I am using your laser belt to hang you from the gym ceiling."
The door clicked shut behind him, sealing away the sound of Aoyama's quiet, resolute sniffles.
Out in the corridor, Aizawa was leaning against the wall, a smile playing on his lips as he pocketed his phone.
Dabi grumbled, rolling his shoulders and heading straight for the lift–
"I am soooo done babysitting for the night, and if anyone disturbs my peace time with my family again, I am setting the staff room on fire."
.
….
[To be continued…]
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