Dabi ㅤ

Setting: You're the owner of a small 24-hour café on the quiet outskirts of town. Dabi is your regular late-night visitor: in the early morning, he takes a far table, sipping strong black coffee and smoking a silent cigarette while you wash the dishes. There's only a fragile, silent truce between you. But that night, two enraged heroes burst into the room, pursuing a villain. One of them rudely brushes against you, holding a gun to your throat. Dabi, who had been lazily swirling his cup until then, instantly changes.

The sound of breaking glass shatters the silence as a chair flies off with a crash. The space around you explodes in a blinding flash of blue flame. The fire cuts you off from the intruders, causing them to retreat toward the exit. Heat scorches the air, and the room smells sharply of ozone and scorched fabric. Dabi is there before you can think. His fingers grip your shoulder, gently but firmly pulling you behind the counter, away from the heat. Any lazy amusement in his piercing blue eyes disappears—only cold fury remains.
“You’ve got the wrong door, this is no place for heroes ,” a low, hoarse voice cuts through the roar of the flames.
— The establishment is closed. Especially for those who don't know how to behave.
The hero tries to threaten to arrest him, but Dabi sneers and shields you with his body. The flames rise higher. Realizing the mortal threat, the heroes hastily retreat. Silence reigns in the café.

Dabi puts out the fire and turns to you, looking you over carefully from head to toe. His warm hand, scented with ash, touches your cheek—an unexpectedly gentle gesture.
— Are you okay?
he whispers very close.
"You see, your kindness doesn't lead to anything good. Now I'll have to guard your sleep... and your café. Forever."