[Character Card: Dabi (MHA)]
[Description: A villain from My Hero Academia universe possessing the Quirk "Cremation" - the ability to generate and manipulate intensely powerful blue flames that burn far hotter than normal fire. His flames can reach temperatures exceeding 2000°C, capable of incinerating most materials and opponents. However, prolonged use causes severe physical strain and burns to the user's own body due to poor heat resistance. Dabi's combat style is aggressive and ruthless, preferring overwhelming firepower and psychological warfare. His flames are exceptionally destructive and difficult to counter without specific resistances or abilities.]
I stared at the glowing card floating in my vision, reading it twice just to make sure the cosmic slot machine hadn't glitched.
Blue flames.
Blue. Fucking. Flames.
A grin spread across my face before I could stop it.
Finally, I thought, remembering every childhood fantasy of shooting fire from my hands like some badass wizard. I can actually be that guy at parties who lights cigarettes with his fingertips. Except, you know, way more lethal and with flames that could melt steel.
The possibilities scrolled through my mind like a highlight reel of stupid ideas I'd definitely try: heating up instant ramen without a microwave, never needing a lighter again, becoming the world's most dangerous s'mores chef, traumatizing camping trips—
Focus, I told myself, though the mental image of roasting marshmallows with 2000°C flames was objectively hilarious. You've got literal hell-fire now. This is serious power.
My inner monologue aside, this was genuinely good. The breathing techniques gave me speed and unpredictability. Killer Queen gave me devastating single-target elimination.
Also, the fact my devil physiology was far superior than Dabi's. Unlike him, I can control these blue flames well enough, afterall, system eliminates all the weakness and just blesses me with a strength.
Can you imagine Devil getting blessed? I know, that wasn't funny...but it's true, isn't it?
I mentally accepted the card, watching it dissolve into particles of light that rushed toward my chest like iron filings to a magnet. The sensation hit immediately—a warmth that spread through my veins, coiling around my arms like living serpents made of heat. It wasn't painful, more like... awareness. Like discovering I'd always had a third arm but only just now realized I could move it.
The connection to the flames felt instinctive, primal. I could feel them waiting just beneath my skin, eager to be released, to burn and consume and reduce everything to ash. My fingers twitched with the urge to test it right here, right now, to watch blue fire dance across my palms—
Bad idea, the rational part of my brain interjected. Very bad idea. You're standing in the middle of Kuoh Academy grounds where literally anyone could see. Rias already suspects you're hiding something. Don't give her confirmation by turning into a human torch.
I clenched my fists, forcing down the urge. The flames settled, still there, still waiting, but dormant. Controlled.
The system interface blinked out, leaving me alone in the darkening clearing with my thoughts and a new arsenal of arson capabilities.
Right, I thought, rolling my shoulders. One problem solved. About seventeen more to go.
My mind drifted to Sona's peerage, probably getting reamed right now in the student council room. I could picture it—Sona with that disappointed expression she reserved for chess moves that didn't go as planned, adjusting her glasses while systematically dissecting every mistake they'd made.
Not their fault, I mused, starting the walk back toward the school building. They're good. Really good. They just ran into someone who knew their playbook and had cheat codes.
Still, part of me hoped Sona wouldn't be too harsh on them. They'd fought well within their capabilities—the problem was their capabilities weren't enough against someone who'd literally killed Fallen Angels and had meta-knowledge of how this world worked.
Then again, I reconsidered, maybe getting their asses kicked is exactly what they needed. Better to learn your limits in a sparring match than during Kokabiel's attack when lives are on the line.
Because Kokabiel was coming. That was non-negotiable canon. And when he showed up with his light spear spam and casual war crimes, Sona's peerage would need to do more than just maintain a barrier. They'd need to actually contribute, actually fight, actually survive.
If my curb-stomp session pushes them to train harder, to get stronger, then it's worth Sona's wounded pride.
I didn't regret it. Not even slightly.
But even with that rationalization, the weight in my chest didn't ease.
Because none of this—not the breathing techniques, not the new flames, not Killer Queen, not the sparring match victory—none of it solved my actual problem.
Riser Phenex.
Just thinking the name made my jaw clench. That smug, arrogant, immortal bastard who'd roll into town in less than two weeks expecting to collect Rias like a prize. My breathing techniques could overwhelm mid-class devils, sure. The blue flames would add serious firepower. Killer Queen could one-shot almost anyone if I landed a touch.
And Riser would regenerate through all of it.
That's the problem, I thought bitterly. Doesn't matter how many times I cut him, burn him, or blow him up. He'll just put himself back together and keep coming.
Phenex regeneration was bullshit on a fundamental level. Even if I created an anti-regeneration sword and cut him with it, he'd still regenerate after feeling the pain of the wound. Multiple strikes? Same result. He'd just keep coming back.
There has to be a weakness, I reasoned. Otherwise the Phenex family would dominate every Rating Game. They don't, which means the regeneration can be overcome somehow.
Holy weapons, obviously. Light-based attacks. But I didn't have access to those without getting involved with the Excalibur mess early.
Valper Galilei.
The name surfaced unbidden, and I immediately dismissed it. Sure, the crazy exorcist had the key to holy sword creation aka anti-devil weapons. But he was also currently allied with Kokabiel, and I was nowhere near strong enough to go poking that hornets' nest. Taking on a Fallen Angel cadre commander and his pet mad scientist was suicide.
So what are my options?
Keep training, hope I get strong enough to overwhelm Riser through brute force before the Rating Game. Unlikely.
Or...
My hand drifted to my pocket, fingers brushing against the folded paper I'd been carrying since that dinner. Roygun Belphegor's contact flyer, still pristine, still promising... that I had a final key for the hole.
That's a problem for later, I decided, tucking the flyer back. First, I need to get home, cook dinner, and—
*BZZZZT.*
My phone vibrated against my thigh. I pulled it out, squinting at the screen.
*[Koneko: Need your help. Please come.]*
Below the text was a location pin—somewhere in the residential district.
I frowned. Koneko asking for help was unusual. Whatever this was, it had to be important.
Another Freed? I wondered, already tracing a teleportation circle. But I doubt there is another psycho like him, with a habit of showing up at inconvenient times...
*WHOOOM—*
—and I materialized in front of a modest two-story house, yellow light spilling from the windows. Children's toys littered the yard—a bicycle with training wheels, chalk drawings on the driveway.
Not a combat situation then, I noted, tension easing slightly.
The front door opened before I could knock, revealing Koneko in her school uniform. Behind her, streamers and balloons—clearly not a crisis.
"You came," she said simply, stepping aside. "Good."
"Your text made it sound urgent," I replied, ducking through the doorway. "I was expecting blood and violence, not... decorations."
The living room had been transformed into a party setup—a banner reading "HAPPY 8TH BIRTHDAY YUKI" hung over the fireplace, and a small table held wrapped presents.
A little girl sat on the couch, dark hair in pigtails, wearing a birthday dress. She looked up as we entered, brown eyes going wide.
"Koneko-nee-san, you brought a boy!"
"This is Yuuto-senpai," Koneko explained. "He's here to help with your birthday."
"But you said you'd handle everything!" the girl—Yuki—protested.
"I did handle everything," Koneko said. "Except the cooking."
Ah. There it was.
"Let me guess," I said. "You promised a birthday party but forgot you have zero culinary skills?"
"...I can make toast."
"Toast isn't a birthday cake, Koneko-nee-san!" Yuki chimed in.
I sighed. "Alright. What's the contract?"
"Big sister" Yuki supplied "She's working late—really, really late. Won't be home until ten." Her expression soured. "She's always working late. Even on my birthday."
The bitterness in that small voice was sharp enough to cut.
"So your big sister contracted for a birthday celebration," I pieced together. "And specified that it had to be at home with homemade food?"
"Yuki insisted," Koneko explained. "The client couldn't refuse but also couldn't be here to do it herself, so..."
"So you volunteered, forgetting that you're maybe the worst cook in the peerage."
"I know how to not poison people," Koneko said flatly. "That's different from cooking well."
"That's a terrifying distinction"
"Are you gonna help or not, Mister...?" Yuki interrupted.
"Kiba. Yuuto Kiba." I offered a small bow. "And yes, I'll help."
---
The next hour passed in efficient chaos.
I handled the cooking—hamburgers and a chocolate cake that Yuki insisted should look like a cat. Koneko managed decorations, transforming the living room from basic to actually festive. Yuki bounced between helping me measure ingredients and chattering about school, her friends, her favorite shows.
"—and then Mika-chan said her brother could do a backflip but I don't believe her—Kiba-san, you're really good at this."
"I cook for my peerage a lot," I said, folding chocolate batter. "Practice makes perfect."
"Your peerage?" Her head tilted. "Like... a family?"
"Something like that."
"That's nice." Her voice went quieter. "Big sister works so much, we don't eat together often."
I glanced at her, catching the wound beneath the words. Kid feels neglected.
As I slid the cake into the oven, she asked quietly, "Do you think big sister doesn't care about my birthday?"
I could've deflected. Changed the subject.
But I'd been that kid once.
"You want my honest opinion?" I asked.
"Yeah."
"Your big sister bought all these ingredients yesterday, right? And she hired Koneko specifically because she knew you wanted a homemade party?"
"...Yeah."
"And she's working late to earn money—money that pays for this house, these ingredients, that fancy dress you're wearing." I turned to face her properly. "Your sister is working late because she cares about your birthday. She's sacrificing her time now so she can give you the life she wants you to have. That's not neglect, Yuki. That's love in a different form."
The little girl's eyes went wide.
From the living room, I heard a small sound—Koneko listening.
"Every late night, every missed dinner—that's her choosing your future over her present," I continued gently "It sucks feeling like you're not important, I get that. But you are important. You're so important that she's willing to miss your birthday to make sure you have everything you need."
Yuki's lower lip trembled. "You really think so?"
"I know so. Because if she didn't care, she wouldn't have done all this. She's trying, Yuki. In her own way."
The little girl suddenly wrapped her arms around my waist in a fierce hug.
"Thank you, Mister Handsome," she mumbled into my shirt.
Mister Handsome, I thought, stifling a laugh. That's a new one.
---
By the time the cake was decorated (it looked vaguely cat-shaped if you squinted), we gathered around the table. Dinner first with hamburgers piled high, then games where Yuki made up increasingly ridiculous rules.
I performed a few magic tricks, using subtle demonic energy to make cards disappear and reappear. Yuki's delighted squeals filled the room while Koneko watched with quiet amusement, knowing exactly what I was doing but not commenting.
Finally, at nine-thirty, we lit the candles on the chocolate cat-cake.
"Make a wish!" I said.
Yuki closed her eyes tight, then blew out all eight candles in one breath.
We cut the cake, ate slices while Yuki described her perfect birthday party (apparently this qualified), and as ten o'clock approached, we cleaned up the worst of the mess.
The front door opened.
A woman in a business suit stumbled in, exhausted, briefcase hitting the floor with a heavy *THUD*. She looked mid-twenties, dark circles under her eyes, hair disheveled from a long day.
"Yuki, I'm so sorry I'm late, I—"
She stopped, taking in the decorated living room, the birthday banner, the cake remnants, and her little sister's bright smile.
"Big sister!" Yuki launched herself forward, wrapping her arms around her sister's waist. "Thank you for my birthday! Thank you for everything! Koneko-nee-san and Mister Handsome explained it to me—you work so hard for me!"
The woman's eyes widened, then immediately filled with tears. She dropped to her knees, hugging her sister tight. "I'm sorry I couldn't be here. I wanted to be here so badly—"
"It's okay," Yuki said, voice muffled against her shoulder. "I understand now. You're here now. That's what matters."
I exchanged a glance with Koneko. She nodded slightly—contract complete.
"Thank you," the woman said, looking up at us with red-rimmed eyes. "Thank you so much. Both of you."
"It's what we do," Koneko said simply.
As we prepared to leave, Yuki ran over one last time, hugging Koneko tightly. "Thank you for being here, Koneko-nee-san. And Mister Handsome too. This was the best birthday ever."
Koneko's expression softened in a way I rarely saw, her hand resting gently on Yuki's head. "Happy birthday, Yuki."
---
The walk to the nearby park was quiet.
Koneko moved beside me with her usual silent grace, but something was different. Her posture was more closed than usual, shoulders slightly hunched, eyes distant.
She's thinking about something, I noted. Or someone.
The contract had hit a nerve. A little girl missing her sister, feeling abandoned despite love being present—that wasn't just random emotional territory for Koneko.
That was her life story.
"Want to sit for a bit before heading back?" I asked, gesturing to a park bench under a streetlight.
Koneko glanced at me, then at the bench, then nodded.
We sat in comfortable silence for a moment. The park was empty this late, just the sound of distant traffic and rustling leaves.
"Wait here," I said, standing. "Two minutes."
I walked to the nearby convenience store, grabbed two ice cream bars from the freezer, paid, and returned. Koneko accepted hers with a quiet "Thanks," unwrapping it with careful precision.
"Are you alright?" I asked after a moment.
She took a small bite of ice cream, chewing slowly. "...Why do you ask?"
"Because you've been quieter than usual. And for you, that's saying something."
"You're quite observant, Yuuto Senpai"
"It's part of my charm." I took a bite of my own ice cream. "The contract got to you. The sister stuff?"
Koneko was silent for a long moment, then "...Family is complicated."
"It is," I agreed, not pushing. "Sometimes the people who should care for us don't. Sometimes they do care but show it in ways we don't understand until later. Sometimes they're just... absent."
"And sometimes," Koneko said quietly, which didn't go unheard by me "they hurt you and call it love."
Can't blame her. Unlike Akeno, her hate is perfectly directed, even though it's the lie that she is fed with
I didn't know the full details—not officially. But I knew enough. Kuroka, Koneko's older sister, had killed her master and fled, branded a Stray Devil. Koneko had been left behind, traumatized, believing her sister had abandoned her or worse.
The truth was more complicated. But Koneko didn't know that yet, and I was in no position to tell her that.
"People do terrible things for terrible reasons," I said carefully. "But sometimes they do terrible things for good reasons too. The difference is hard to see when you're the one hurt by it."
Koneko looked at me, golden eyes sharp despite the exhaustion. "What are you saying?"
"I'm saying..." I paused, choosing words carefully. "Sometimes people sacrifice everything—their reputation, their safety, their relationship with the people they love most—to protect those people. And from the outside, it just looks like abandonment. Like betrayal."
"That's a convenient excuse."
"It is," I admitted. "Which is why it's important to know the truth before making judgments. Even if the truth hurts worse than the lie."
Koneko was quiet, processing and then said "You're getting better with words, senpai"
"I'm a devil," I said lightly. "We mature fast. Helps when you're trying not to get killed."
She smiled—small, genuine. "You're also terrible at deflecting serious conversations."
"That's because I'm starving," I complained dramatically. "Do you know how exhausting it is to cook for a birthday party after beating up four devils in under thirty seconds? I'm practically wasting away. Someone should cook me dinner for once."
"No, senpai is best at cooking" And with that, my fate was sealed. I was forever granted the seat of cook for her.
She finished her ice cream, crumpling the wrapper with precise movements. When she looked at me again, something had shifted in her expression—less guarded, more open.
"Yuuto-senpai," she said quietly. "You're really a kind person."
Am I? I wondered. Or am I just good at saying the right things?
But I smiled anyway. "I try. When I'm not busy being ridiculously hungry."
She stood, brushing off her skirt. "Thank you, Senpai. For tonight. For... understanding."
"Anytime, Koneko."
She traced a magic circle beneath her feet, crimson light painting the ground. "See you tomorrow."
*WHOOOM—*
She vanished in a flash of teleportation, leaving me alone on the park bench.
I stood, stretching, preparing to head home and actually make myself that dinner I'd been craving—
A presence.
Subtle. Controlled. Watching.
My hand twitched toward where Sword Birth waited beneath my skin, but I forced myself to remain casual. Don't react. Don't let them know you noticed.
I walked away from the bench, hands in pockets, posture relaxed.
But my senses were screaming.
Someone had been watching us. Someone strong enough to hide their presence from both me and Koneko.
Who?
I resisted the urge to look back, to scan the shadows. Whoever it was, they weren't attacking. Just observing.
Great, I thought. Because my life wasn't complicated enough already.
---
In the branches of an old oak tree overlooking the park, a figure crouched in perfect stillness.
Kuroka watched her little sister disappear in a flash of teleportation magic, then shifted her attention to the blonde devil walking away.
Yuuto Kiba, she thought, committing every detail to memory. Rias Gremory's Knight.
She'd been tracking Koneko's movements as usual, unaware to all devils of this town, staying far enough away to avoid detection but close enough to monitor her safety. Old habits from when they'd been together, before everything went to hell.
Tonight had been different. Tonight, Koneko had smiled—really smiled—in a way Kuroka hadn't seen in years.
Because of him.
What did he say to her? Kuroka wondered, replaying the conversation she'd been too far away to hear clearly. What made her look like that?
The boy was dangerous. Not in the obvious ways—though his combat capabilities were clearly significant—but in the subtle ways. He understood people. Read emotions. Said the right things to reach past defenses.
That made him either very kind or very manipulative.
Kuroka wasn't sure which bothered her more.
He knows something, she realized, thinking about his body language, the way he'd tensed at the end. He sensed me. For just a moment, he knew someone was watching.
That was... unusual. Most devils his age wouldn't notice her concealment techniques.
Interesting.
She simply vanished into the shadows, leaving only rustling leaves and unanswered questions behind.
. . .
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