A Small Prayer

A Boku no Hero Academia oneshot.

Summary: Dabi finds out Endeavor was named the number one hero after All Might. He decides to finish everything. An abstract short story of Dabi and Endeavor facing off against each other and a grim past the world would never know.

Warnings: Character death.

"Endeavor is the number one hero."

In the darkness, there was a light. A flicker. He cupped his hands around it.

Smothered it.

"How sad… Todoroki Shoto…"

Glasses clinked together, two or three at a time, and he ran a finger through a water ring left on the counter. Distortion. The water refracted the blue of his flames. He lifted two fingers to his eyes and stared.

"This will be a signal fire. We'll fill those heroes full of holes… and put them in their place."

The flames sputtered out. The TV echoed the words number one hero over and over again.

"Dabi?"

Kurogiri appeared like a bug on a windshield, and slowly, he curled his fingers into a fist and imagined watching him burn. It was time.

"I'll be back," he said, tossing his jacket over his shoulder.

Kurogiri bid him farewell, and he was out, slinking through the back alleyways. Lurking. Stalking his prey. A cat scurried out of his way as he passed.

His boots clicked threateningly on.

The place stood as it always had, an old painting stripped and glued into place on the collage of a modern Japan. Everything kept pristine as the moment it was constructed. No cracks in the armor.

But he'd always found a way.

A hidden door on the side of the house. They all knew of it but pretended not to. His ignorance allowed the door to yield to his fingertips when he pressed. An office space laid beyond it, and his hand swept across the spines of untouched books, feeling a spark at his fingers. But it would wait. Retreat back into the shadows.

Wait for an ambush.

Todoroki Enji wandered into the room two hours or so later, unaware that the time and place had been preselected for him. Dabi wanted to wait until his back was turned, but a spark flared in the darkness, and the hero was aware of his arrival. He slid out of his hiding spot, hands raised in mockery.

Checkmate.

Endeavor's flames highlighted his eyes, the way they flared from shock and rage at the sight of him. He opened his mouth, spoke a name.

Dabi's hands went up in flames.

Endeavor would not be defeated easily. He charged into the hallway and out into the courtyard, a bigger space with advantages, to prevent him from getting cornered and torched. Blue flames became fragments on his wicked grin, and he left the office to burn as he faced his final boss.

"Father," he called, mockingly, rolling a flame over each finger. Endeavor squared up to him, his face abstracting drastically with the wood panel and speckled pink of dusk beyond him. "You should be proud of me. I can control my flames now."

The pro took a step forward. Asserting dominance. Dabi didn't blink.

"Why are you here?" he hissed, arms raised.

You are no hero, he wished to say, let alone number one. But words meant nothing to the man that used them like whips for abuse. Dabi glanced around, his mind sketching the memories onto the scenery. He scratched his nose. His eyes shone with something much brighter. Hatred.

"Just wanted to let you know," he said, feeling the blue flames seep up his arms. "That you have a poor choice in architecture."

Endeavor faltered, and the fire built, twenty years of memories woven together as the fuel. Three things necessary to burn it all. Fuel. Oxygen. A spark. And the spark raised his fire stained hand so Endeavor could admire his genetics.

Dabi spoke again, "Didn't anyone tell you wood burns faster."

He threw a fist toward the home, and his fire galloped beyond his reach, consuming a charcoal stained path and a hole into the construction of his memories. Like running a finger through a water rivulet. Breaking the picture. It felt good.

"Your move, Todoroki Enji."

Fire plus fire only quantified the amount of fire. Endeavor knew this, staring at the boy stained in blue flames, his mind shrinking him and dying his hair white. A cry. "Father, it hurts!" He retracted a step. Neither of them could win in a physical fight. But when have they only been physical.

"You're no longer my son. Come back when you can control your fire."

The payment was due. The maker was coming to collect it. The little boy dissolved into a pool of blue. He caught the iast before it went into his side, matching the flames with his own to dissolve the heat it generated.

A sliding door cracked open, found itself locked again. Hear no evil. See no evil. Speak no evil.

"Leave Haruki," Endeavor warned, but he dropped the gasoline canister next to the flames, waiting for the trickle.

Explosion.

"After I kill you."

Dabi threw another fist, and it connected, knocking him back a few paces, but he came at him, hands around his throat, and the battle fizzled out. Endeavor felt his Adam's apple bob beneath his fingers. He's ten years old, and he knew he couldn't squeeze. Turquoise eyes were crying out. Father! Father! Father-

A hand burned through his chest. A sneer. "Father."

Endeavor increased the temperature on his flames, but Dabi was already pulling back, his pale hand stained in dark red. The payment was made.

"You won't hurt them anymore, Todoroki Enji." His voice felt hollow in his throat. "Not Natsu. Not Fuyumi. Not Shoto. And not me."

He watched the man fall forwards, genetics coding them so alike as father and son, but the same river of blood divided them by miles. The pro struggled to gain each breath. A sputter. "I'm sorry."

Dabi turned away. "I'm not."

Black smoke curled in the sky. The fire department would be there soon. A small flame kindled in the darkness. He reached out to smother it.

Stopped.

Todoroki Shoto was watching him, his eyes wide, but he spoke no words. Dabi flicked a nod at him and left the way he came. Shoto made no move to stop him. Fear or something greater planted his feet. Dabi swallowed the harsh air of the smoke.

It was refreshing.

He vanished back into the alleyways. Voices clanged in the distance. Thump, thump, thump. His footsteps were heavy. Burdens brought by families weighed a ton.

Kurogiri was still at the bar when he returned.

"Back so soon…?" He asked.

Dabi sat at the bar. Perched his bloodstained hand on the counter.

"Got what I needed done."

Silence. A few heartbeats. Maybe more. Kurogiri carefully grasped for straws.

"And… what might that be…?"

He spread his fingers out, the scars contrasting with the blood like his body on the background behind him. His final image of the monster.

"Just saving someone," he mumbled, with the unvoiced whether I was saving myself or saving Shoto.

Kurogiri cleared his throat and shuffled back to work.

It had been too easy, killing him. If that guilt was overwhelming, he should have let him live so his own flames would have swallowed him whole. But he was impatient.

How sad… Todoroki Shoto, he thought as he shut his eyes, closing his fist around the small flame and accepting the darkness. Is the life we have been given. But now, he's out of the picture.

He lifted his eyelids. Shigaraki's TV prattled on. Slipped his hands into his pockets. Listen to the whispers.

Give them hell, Shoto. Become the hero he never was.

Siren rattled outside the bar. The sounds of freedom burned in his ears.

This story is dedicated to my bestie. You're the real hero.

Thanks for reading.

Soul Spirit