"Uhh… K-Kazuya…?"
The old man's voice trembled as he stared at the TV behind the counter. Smoke curled out from his forgotten cigarette, ash hanging loose from the tip. The entire screen was flooded with fire and smoke.
Kazuya didn't speak.
He was frozen, wide eyed, jaw clenched.
Dante's form was seared into the screen like something my from a nightmare. And then… that pink mist, and silence.
The old man just whispered, "What the hell did he just do?"
Kazuya swallowed hard. "I have no idea…" he glanced at the screen again, his brows knitting.
Elsewhere… in Kaijin's underground gym, the entire gym stood with jaws on the floor. The big screen flickered with replays of the last few seconds before Dante was out to sleep.
Kaijin, arms crossed, barely blinked.
His eyes were locked on Dante.
One of the guys exhaled, "Yo… wasn't his quirk that sludge thing? Where did that fire come from?"
Kaijin finally spoke, his voice quiet but solid. "That wasn't his quirk, that was something else." He turned away from the screen and added, "He's not finished changing just yet."
Back in the stadium, up in the stands, Endeavour stood at the railing, arms folded tightly, gaze sharp.
Smoke still lingered in the arena below.
"…Hmph." His voice was cold. "That fire… it felt even hotter than… Nevermind."
Beside him, other pro heroes murmured among themselves.
"That wasn't listed in his quirk file right?"
"A second quirk?"
In the commentary booth, Aizawa leaned back in his chair.
Present Mic kept throwing him glances. "Yo, Eraser…? You good?"
Aizawa's gaze was fixed on the replay, on the way that Dante kept going, even after the match had ended.
After a long silence, he muttered.
"That wasn't the boy I met on that rooftop."
…
The world came back in pieces.
A sharp inhale.
Sterile light.
The beep of a heart monitor.
The faint rustle of fabric as he jerked upright.
"H-Hah—!"
Dante's hands shot to his chest, clawing at his shirt like something was crushing him from the inside out. His eyes darted around wildly, he saw white sheets, pale walls, tubes, wires… he looked like he was in the infirmary room inside of U.A.
Sweat poured down his back.
His breathing hitched, shallow and fast.
He tried to swing his legs over the bed, but the instant his feet hit the ground, his knees buckled and he fell.
"What the hell is going on?!"
The door was closed shut. There were no nurses. No voices. Just the hun of machines and the white all around him. He pressed his hands up against his face. His fingers were shaking.
Flashes hit him like a truck.
He was in the tournament.
There was… fire.
He lost control.
Sleeping gas?
The ground melting at his feet.
"Hey."
Ah… it was little Dante.
"You're not dead, y'know."
Dante swallowed hard. "…Ah, hey."
Little Dante sat cross legged on the bed, idly playing with a flicker of fire dancing across his palm. "You panicked I think. I get it. First time waking up after going crazy like that."
Dante grit his teeth. "That… it wasn't me, right?"
"Wrong." Little Dante flicked the flame toward him like a marble. "It actually was, somehow, you lost control without my interference. That's the issue."
There was silence for a moment.
Dante finally muttered, "…Okay then, what the hell was that?"
Little Dante exhaled."It's probably since you've been in this world for six years. That fire? That wasn't my quirk. That was yours. That was your personal and unique quirk."
Dante's breath caught.
"All yours."
It felt weird.
His quirk? But he wasn't from this world, right?
"That's not possible, I think." He muttered, pacing now, voice sharp. "Quirks are genetic. They come from DNA. I shouldn't have my own, right? I should only have the quirk that belonged to this body, my soul shouldn't have one."
Little Dante tilted his head. "Yeah, well… maybe your soul doesn't care about how it works." He shrugged. "You must've brought it with you and it stayed buried until you came to this world."
His 'quirk' wasn't just fire. It felt almost volcanic. It felt molten.
He fell back into the bed, wiping sweat from his brow, his thoughts and little Dante's words were starting to collide and something started to come together.
"Wait…" he whispered. "Could it be… my world had quirks too? But… how come no one had the powers from this world?"
Dante perked up.
"Could it be… there's something different about this world that leads to these dormant powers to actually come out? And this power… it's been with me this whole time? I just needed to exist in this world?"
Dante shook his head, "I'm overthinking things. Not that any of it matters."
*BRRRRRRIIIIIIINNNNNNGGGGGGG!!!!*
Dante flinched, snapping his eyes to the clock.
It was the end of the school day.
He exhaled slowly, staring up at the ceiling. His heart finally began to slow down, but his mind was racing harder than ever.
Then came a knock.
Then another.
Before Dante could even fully sit up, the door slid open and in came a trio of familiar faces: he saw Nezu, Present Mic and Cementoss. Behind them trailed recovery girl, arms folded.
Nezu's eyes were serious, but a hint of curiosity lay below. No one said anything for a beat.
Dante broke the silence first. "What happened to the festival? Is it done? Who won? What's with the line up?"
Mic huffed a short laugh. "Yes, the festival is over. Katsuki Bakugo won and we're here to figure out if you're still… y'know, you."
Cementoss stared at him silently, he saw everything first hand. Nezu smiled politely and hopped onto a nearby chair.
"Dante," Nezu began with a very sweet voice, "Your performance earlier was… enlightening."
Dante tilted his head, eyes unreadable. "Enlightening? Dunno what you're saying, I've always been able to do that."
Nezu's smile didn't budge. "Strange. Your quirk wasn't registered as a flame based quirk."
"There wasn't any time I needed to use it till now," Dante replied, staring at the ceiling. "I didn't know I could push it that far. Guess I finally hit my stride."
They stared. Then Dante stared back.
Poker face. Untouchable.
"Well," Present Mic said, breaking the awkward silence, "it's not unheard of to have a strange quirk… maybe there's more to it than he knew…"
Nezu nodded. "True. Especially considering your… unusual biology. That said, we'll need to do a few extra scans, just to make sure you're not a danger to yourself, or others."
Dante shrugged. "Go for it. But while you're poking around in my blood or whatever, I've got a question."
Nezu's ears perked up.
"My father. I'm sure you know of him. Where is he?"
Mic and Cementoss exchanged glances. Nezu, however, didn't even flinch.
"Why do you ask?"
"I would like to talk to him." Dante's voice was low, serious. "I need to understand some things. Some stuff revolving around my quirk. I want to know what happened to him that led to him becoming what he is. I need to know everything."
Nezu's tone lowered. "That's a complicated request, Dante. He's not in U.A. custody. He's being held by the Public Safety Commission, in a high security facility."
"I thought as much," Dante said, eyes narrowing. "So? Can you make it happen?"
"You're still a student," Nezu said evenly. "It's not a simple matter of arranging visitation. There are protocols. Supervision. Approvals."
"I don't care about red tape," Dante growled. "You know people. I'm sure you can pull strings."
Nezu tilted his head. "And why would I do that?"
Dante didn't respond right away. His hands curled slightly over the sheets and his face hardened. "Because I need answers. I need to know why he abandoned me. He's my father, I should be allowed to see him. I'm not asking to fight him. I'm not going to ask him for mercy. I just want to talk to him."
Nezu regarded him for a long time. Then finally said, "I'll see what I can do."
That was enough.
Dante leaned back, letting the conversation fall away as the adults syarted murmuring among themselves again.
But deep inside, little Dante whispered.
"Thank you."