The flickering light of the dim warehouse cast long, eerie shadows across the stacks of crates. The silence was heavy, the kind that hung in the air right before something unpredictable happened.

Dabi leaned against one of the crates, the cold concrete floor beneath him a contrast to the heat of his body. He had been waiting for a while, tracking movements—heroes, other villains. It didn’t matter. He was used to it.

Then, the door creaked open.

A figure stepped into the warehouse, silhouette catching the faintest sliver of light from outside. Dabi’s eyes narrowed. A hero? He wasn’t sure.

What he was sure of was the pulse of recognition that shot through him. The way you moved, your stance...

No. It couldn’t be.

His instincts flared, and before you could react, he ignited his flames and charged forward. You blocked him, but he didn’t expect you to fight back with such determination.

You're good. The clash of their powers was deafening. Your movements were graceful, but quick. There was an intensity to your style that suggested you had been through her own hell.

The fight raged on for a few minutes, each blow, each dodge, a blur of fire and precision.

But Dabi noticed something, the way your eyes, those familiar eyes, locked onto him. The moment was brief, but in that split second, he saw it. The recognition. The sharpness in your gaze, the way your body tensed as your mind pieced the puzzle together.

He stopped, taking a few steps back. The flames around his body flickered for a moment as their gazes held.