The World's Forgotten Boy

[wrecking_yard]

The area the higher profile League people hang around is pretty empty.  Others don't really come around it without a good reason.  It means there's a nice, quiet open area where I can sit with a cup noodle and have something like peace for at least a few minutes.  

Of course that doesn't last; Shigaraki wanders in with a fast food bag, and visibly stops, tilting his head and thinking something over watching me.  I glance over and raise a hand in a half wave before turning my attention back to my food, although I'm sitting where I can still see him off to the side.  He takes a few steps closer, still watching me, and waits; I'm not bothering to react.  I can see him, there's nothing agitated or threatening about his posture, I have no reason to care.  Another few steps closer and he shifts again, watching and waiting.  It repeats until he's a little inside where my wingtips would be if I spread them, at which point he spends a minute shifting around to get a better look, head swiveling around like an owl sizing something up.  I spare a glance up at that to raise an eyebrow before I go back to eating.  

The edging-and-watching picks back up; he's gauging my reactions.  I know my presence is a contentious thing, but he's not going to do anything unprovoked.  He knows how bad it'd look to the larger group if he just dusted someone when not everyone is familiar or settled yet, so I've got no reason to worry about him testing.  Besides, the more I've seen of him the clearer it's gotten that he telegraphs.  He keeps it up until he's sharing the bench, glancing at my wings occasionally to check that they haven't moved.  He keeps edging closer until he's almost brushing elbows and would be under the right one if I shifted it even a little.  

I finally pause and look over at him.  "Did you need something?"  

"Oh.  Just - curious."  He shifts forward, but it's not leaning, it's the owl thing again, looking me over.  He raises a hand, almost poking at one of the closer less-imposing secondary coverts with a couple fingers, focused very much on my reaction; I give him another raised eyebrow and then go back to poking what's left of my lunch.  

He's still testing for a flinch.  

When there isn't one, he cautiously touches the feather, and spends a minute running a couple fingers along it and carefully feeling around the edges where it lifts and how it moves.  He's not tugging on it or anything, but it's still a little distracting, and I look over at him again, deadpan and as if he were just standing there and not fondling one of my feathers.  "Can I help you?"  

"Just curious~" - he's grinning and it's full sing-song.  I sigh and stare at the bottom of the cup.  My lack of effort to get him to stop only seems to entertain him more.  Eventually he does get bored of it and leave my feathers alone.  He takes a couple more seconds of studying me, then takes the hand off his face and carefully sets it next to him on the other side.  I'm still not sure how they stay on most of the time and I'm not sure it's something I actually need or care to know.  

He's slouched loose, poking through the fast food bag.  As he goes, he's being chill, not agitated, and apparently satisfied with his boundary testing for the moment, still sitting right close next to me.  I'm certainly in his range to be dangerous easily, but he's also close enough that it'd be a reflex contest between him getting a grip and me whacking him with a wing made of sharp edges if he tried.  The way he's dropped all pretense of the boundary-check game, it feels less like the proximity is an implied threat and more like he's just settling where the lines are and making it clear he's not afraid of me.  

I've seen him trying to intimidate someone.  It's way more focused and he's way more tense and alert for it.  It also doesn't take much to get people flinching or backing away from him - usually just him moving too close to arm's reach.  

"So, hero.  I really am curious.  What made you decide to switch sides?"  He's raspy and sarcastic, but he's got most of his attention on his hamburger, offhand and less confrontational than what I get from Dabi.  

"The system's a mess and the rules are a bigger mess, and I got sick of being yanked around."  The entire scenario means there is no cover story, just trying to cobble together something plausible out of the obvious and visible truth.  

"Oh, I've heard that much."  He pauses, tilting his head to look straight at me.  "I know the story you tell everyone - I want to know about you, what stake you've got in all this."  

"You don't trust me?"  I shift in mock affront.  

Nobody here trusts me.  It's the dumbest infiltration mission in history.  

He just snorts and rolls his eyes, poking part of the burger back together and eating with an occasional expectant glance at me, then holds up a hand until he's swallowed to speak.  "You know how easy you are to look into.  You were raised for it.  Why bail on it when you'd gotten all the way to number two?"  

He's sharp and clever, even if people tend to discount it because of how he acts.  He's languid, fishing, and not twitchy enough about it for this to be him fishing for an excuse to aim at me; he doesn't trust me but he's playing his own game and isn't worried about the situation yet.   

I stare at the empty cup and set it aside.  "So you know I came from a shithole, right?"  

He half-nods and tilts his head to show he's listening with a lopsided smirk around his lunch.  

"Bottom of the heap, Mom was high off her ass most of the time, Dad was a great guy - when he was sober, which I didn't see much.  Most of what I remember of home is empty bottles, broken glass, trash, and every kind of bug that lives in these cities."  There's more to it, of course, but that's enough to get the point across.  "Then that thing  with the car accident happened.  Next thing I know, there's people in suits coming around asking about me - offered my parents a pretty chunk of change to let them take me off to train me, and me....well, I thought it was the best thing that could've happened - only question I asked was if I could be a hero like Endeavor."  

The normal PR face wouldn't work here, and it's... entirely too easy to just cover the name in venom.  "That sure didn't age well."  

By that point he's inhaled his food and is still half watching me continually, scrubbing off his hands and face with napkins and some wet wipes - he's really fussy for someone who wears taxidermied hands everywhere.  

"So I go through a bit of private prep training, basic combat, first aid, emergency medical, all that kind of thing, and then get handed over to Endeavor's agency for training - and that's when I learned you should never meet your idols."  I've got my wings hunched in and he twists his head for a second to give me an odd look, but he doesn't seem concerned.  "Turns out, Endeavor's a massive tool.  Hates everyone, short temper, only cares about his own ego and image, lashes out at the drop of a pin, wrecks his own office whenever something pisses him off.  Working for him was absolute Hell, and I couldn't get out of it.  The few times I complained and tried to request a transfer or something, nobody believed me and I got laughed at - why would I have a problem with being in one of the biggest agencies in the business?"  

Put on a show, vent my spleen, win win situation.  

"Then All Might retires and I manage to break off to my own agency, off the bastard's leash, aaaand..."  I give a vague hand wave.  "Turns out I just traded one leash for another; if you're up in the rankings and the nice government people tell you to do something, it doesn't matter how stupid or inane or nonsensical it is, you've got to do it - and they're just as much a bunch of assholes as Endeavor."  

Actually this is too easy.

"It's a fucking mess, and I'm tired of being jerked around by assholes who just want a pawn and a patsy they can take things out on.  Why wouldn't I want to bail on that bullshit and help break it to pieces?"  

I give him a flat look, and he just raises an eyebrow with an amused nod.  I know enough of his rhetoric to know that it meshes way too neatly with his ideology framed like that - which just makes it creepier how easy that entire rant was and that most of it was venting and not an act.  

That's also when something else catches the corner of my eye - Dabi's leaning against the wall, and I know he wasn't there a couple minutes ago.  

I'm.... just going to ignore him for now, and stick with the conversation with Shigaraki.  "Does that fill things in for you?"  

He's grinning again, putting the hand back on his face.  He gives me an awkward shoulder pat, fingers not making contact.  "Yes, that was most useful."  

And then his stance shifts for a second, stiffer and sharper edged; he does another awkward shoulder-pat that was absolutely an implied threat before sidling away and standing up, back at a relaxed slouch.  "I think we have the opportunity for a wonderful alliance for the both of us here."  

The 'or else' doesn't need to be said out loud as he's turning to leave the room, back to me and a little too chipper.  

I shift a little, just enough to keep Dabi where I can see him.  He's messing with his phone and leaning against the wall, looking half-asleep, like nothing's happening.  

There has not been a single time yet that we've both been in the same room where he's actually been Just Casually Around.

Sure enough, after a couple minutes and me shifting my wings to settle a little, there's a quiet, "Nice story, hero", and he doesn't even look up.

I sigh, and turn around on the bench to face him.  "Look, I know you've gone researching already, I'm sure you already knew all of that."  

"Oh, yeah.  Your life story's not hard to look up."  He pauses, tilting his head at his phone, and slips it in his pocket.  "Also not hard to notice that you frame it a little different with each person you talk to."  

"You mean it's not normal to mind who you're talking to when you're around a bunch of people who could kill you if you sneeze wrong?"  I give him an exagerated shrug and gesture at the entire building around us.  

He gives me a tired eyeroll, shoving his hands in his pockets.  "And how much are you leaving out?"  

I stare at him.  "Well, when I was six, I started building cardboard forts for the roaches, and when I was eight, I found out that picking up centipedes is a bad idea, when I was ten-"

He grimaces and raises a hand for me to stop, shooting me a dim glare.  

"What, you don't want to hear everything I left out?"  I flash him a grin.  

"And how did you make it to twenty without ending up a piece of charcoal again?"  

He's sticking with the dim glare, but I have successfully annoyed him.  "Probably because Endeavor knew the suits would get back at him if he torched the pet project they'd already sunk a bunch of money into."  

Dabi raises an eyebrow.  "Right.  Anyway."  

I'm still grinning, waiting for him to try again.  He shakes his head and sighs, walking out with one last glare shot back over his shoulder.