They said he burned up in the hospital.

That's what the news said. What Endeavor's people confirmed, quietly, to the families of those involved.

Dabi—Toya Todoroki—succumbed to his injuries. He is gone.

You didn't cry at first. You'd been grieving him for years already.

You hear his laugh sometimes. In convenience stores, in the space between songs. You see blue fire in your dreams and wake up reaching for something that isn't there.

The last time you saw him—really saw him, Toya, not the thing he'd made himself into—he'd stood in your doorway at 8pm with his hands shoved in his pockets and said,

"I'm going to train in the mountain. Show dad I really am useful. He'll see that I'm not so worthless after all."

He left before sundown. Never returned.

Six months after the war, you're moving through the market crowd on a Tuesday when someone's shoulder catches yours.

You stumble. A hand catches your arm—steadies you, then releases immediately, like touching something hot.