Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“And this urgently needs to go in the post, it would actually be better if it were delivered today.” Three letters passed from one hand to another as the two women walked quickly. “Also, it would be great if you placed another order for umbrellas. Only Kami-sama knows when this rain will finally stop, but the patients are getting restless and want to go outside, and I’d like to keep the number of colds this season as low as possible. I can’t wait for spring.”

Hana nodded in agreement, though her eyebrows furrowed slightly. “Yes, that’s true. Mr. Oyama from room 243 couldn’t take it anymore either and spent the whole day outside, in the rain-” She bumped into her supervisor before she could finish the story, wincing in embarrassment, ready for a scolding. But when she looked directly into Dr. Inomori’s eyes, she immediately returned to her professional demeanor. Clipboard and pen ready, she awaited the next instructions.

“Oyama Hisao has a rabbit mutant-type Quirk. It’s perfectly understandable he wants to go outside. Today, he’ll get a hot bath, only herbal teas and soup from now on, and contact Takahashi to start light physical therapy tomorrow. Fresh air and exercise will do him good.” She turned and continued down the hall toward her office, still speaking to her assistant. “It’s very important to me that he’s in top shape by next week.”

Hana noted everything down, including the message to Takahashi Reno, and hurried to catch up. Her eyes widened a bit as she bit her pen. “Oh right, his wife is visiting him soon!”

Juniper turned back to her, taking the pen from her mouth and the clipboard from her hand. With a quick glance, she reviewed the notes from the entire conversation, scanning through the documents beneath and adding a few comments of her own.

“Exactly. His wife is coming, and he’s going to shine with all his progress. He’s worked hard, and all that effort should pay off. I want to take no risks. He should be healthy and energetic when he finally faces her and says what’s been on his mind for so long.” She looked up from the clipboard, meeting Hana’s gaze with a smile. Hana immediately returned the look with an excited grin and a nod.

Juniper’s gaze then drifted to her assistant’s clothes before returning to the clipboard as she added a few more notes. “And you, you should really go home and take a shower.” Hana glanced down in shock at her supervisor’s swift hand gesture, wondering if that comment would make it into the notes too. “Drop your clothes off at the laundry and don’t pick up any more work today, so you don’t get any ideas about staying longer. Don’t forget to eat something, and then I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The clipboard changed hands one last time, and Hana reviewed the notes. Almost every task had additional remarks, and she was especially pleased with the small ticks and ‘good job’ notes. However, one entry regarding a missed phone call remained unmarked. Slowly and smoothly, she adjusted her glasses and tucked her hair behind her ear, wondering whether Juniper had deliberately ignored that recurring entry or if she just didn’t notice it anymore.

Juniper opened the door to her office and, delighted by the view from her window, realized the rain had finally stopped. She stepped closer to the window, looking out at the clinic’s vast courtyard. Despite the hospital walls still feeling somewhat imposing, they didn’t seem as intimidating today, with the spring sunlight breaking through the clouds. She allowed herself a moment longer at the window and was surprised to see someone already working diligently in the garden. “Hana, forget the umbrellas. If our heteromorph friend is already trimming hedges, then spring is near.”

The younger woman, intrigued, stepped up to the window and pressed her documents against her chest, a grin spreading across her face as she watched the gardener at work. With his pangolin quirk, he deftly weeded the beds while giving the hedges their new shape.

Suddenly, a short, shrill ring from Juniper’s lab coat demanded attention, and a glance at the wooden clock told her which appointment was next. “I hope he’s in the mood to go outside today. I could really use a walk around the garden myself.” Then, she gestured kindly toward the exit, articulating every word slowly and clearly, “You can go home, Hana.” Hana smiled sheepishly and raised her shoulders in a defensive posture before finally giving in to her supervisor’s gaze and heading toward the door.

The office was looking less and less like a workspace and more like a hotel room. Clothes were scattered around, a blanket lay haphazardly on the couch, but the desk remained organized, with neatly arranged new documents on the left and a laptop in the center. All the pens and even the desk lamp were positioned so precisely that Hana was sure the drawers in the filing cabinet below must have been just as meticulously sorted.

“Maybe you should go home too, June.” The words slipped out accidentally, and before she could react to her colleague’s response, her feet were already carrying her out of the office. As she walked down the clinic corridor, taking off her coat, Hana glanced at the clock and wondered if she’d catch the next bus, what she’d make for dinner, and whether Juniper had even spent a single night at home in the past month.

———

The rain, which had veiled the world in an endless gray for days, had finally passed. The garden was still a dark, fresh green from the showers, and the grass shimmered with moisture. The air was cool and crisp. The clouds slowly drifted away, and the first rays of sunlight pierced through the sky, lighting up the clinic walls.

Juniper and Touya walked along the wet gravel path that led from the terrace on a tour of the garden, listening to the sounds of an early spring. They watched birds enjoying a late afternoon flight in the newly reclaimed sunshine, chirping their finest songs to herald the coming of a new season.

Touya, his hands buried deep in the pockets of his blue rain jacket, remained characteristically silent, though Juniper noticed how his gaze had softened over the past few weeks. She followed his eyes and saw them settle on the blooming flowers, as if, against his will, he was absorbing the peaceful surroundings.

“Snowdrops! They’re always the first to bloom every year. Not a native species, actually… they’re from Europe. But these” she proudly pointed along the field, “were imported and planted specifically from my homeland.” Juniper always liked to start her conversations with him lightheartedly, in a relaxed, unforced way that made it easier for him to ease into the talk.

Touya appreciated how she spoke to him the same way she would with anyone else. Not in a condescending or lecturing manner as he’d expected from a therapist. She was like a walking encyclopedia, but he enjoyed that their conversations remained casual, and she never really pressed for answers.

She continued her story, “Snowdrops can actually melt snow because the bulb burns carbohydrates, generating heat. That’s why they’re among the first signs of spring.” Her expression became proud, as if the flowers were her creation.

Touya watched the white flowers as she spoke. Tiny plants capable of pushing through snow by undergoing some sort of combustion process. He found it hard to believe.

“I’m so glad the rain has finally stopped,” Juniper said softly, stretching her arms in the air for a moment with her eyes closed. The wind gently rustled through the momi pines, their needles swaying and occasionally releasing a stray raindrop.

He gave a brief nod and muttered, “The ground’s wet.”

She just smiled faintly. “How long do you think it’ll take for everything to bloom?”

Touya shrugged. “How would I know? Nature doesn’t care about time.”

Juniper tilted her head slightly, considering his words before gently, but not pushily, asking, “And what about us? Do you think people care more about time than nature does?”

Touya paused, looking at her briefly. He knew this was where the conversation would get more difficult. Then he continued walking. “People… are always trying to control time. That’s just a waste of it.”

A slight smile tugged at her lips. “That’s an interesting thought.” She sensed that he was opening up a bit, albeit reluctantly. The coldness in his voice gave way to a subtle hint of reflection. Juniper let the moment pass in silence before going deeper.

“What do you think, Touya… what’s the meaning of life?”

He stopped and looked at her with slightly narrowed eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked, sharper than he intended. “What kind of question is that?”

“An honest one,” she said calmly, resuming her walk as if his reaction hadn’t phased her. “Everyone asks it at some point. Some earlier, some later. There’s no right answer, but it’s interesting to see how everyone handles it.”

Touya shot her a scrutinizing look, as if searching for a trap in her question, but there was none. She was being sincere. After a brief pause, he hesitantly offered her his arm. “You’ll slip if you keep stomping around the garden like that.”

Juniper chuckled gratefully, taking his arm as they continued walking. Their steps fell in sync, and they navigated the larger puddles together.

“What do you think?” he asked suddenly. “About the meaning of life.” It was hard for him to consider because he’d never really asked himself that question before, and he hoped her answer might lead him closer to his own.

She looked at him in surprise, glad for the sudden turn in the conversation, and she loved rising to challenges. “For me?” She paused briefly to think. “I think it’s about growing and learning. Like a tree. Not always straight, sometimes crooked or bent, and sometimes a branch breaks off. But it’s about continuing, evolving, and finding your own place in the world. And sometimes, that means redefining yourself.”

Touya remained silent, but she could sense that he was thinking. His eyes narrowed slightly as he gazed ahead. She savored the small triumph of getting him to reflect and was tempted to end the conversation there, not wanting to make it too complex for him. Yet, she still wanted to hear his answer. “And you?” she asked gently. “What do you think? Why are you still here, in this world?”

He suddenly stopped, his gaze fixed on a distant point as the fresh breeze tousled his white hair. “You know… I don’t really know,” he said after a while. “Maybe I’m still here because… I don’t know what else is supposed to happen.”

Juniper watched him closely, letting him speak without pressuring him. These rare moments when he tried to organize his thoughts and put them into words impressed her deeply.

“And maybe,” he said quietly, “I’m here because people like my mother…” he paused for a moment and then looked at her, “or you, think I still have a chance. But honestly… I don’t know if that’s true.” Then he looked away, trying to focus his gaze on something, anything, before closing his eyes and swallowing hard. His thoughts were exhausting him, and he hoped she wouldn’t push further.

She stayed calm, though inside, she felt triumphant. These words, they were a big step forward, a sign that perhaps, in his own time, he was slowly beginning to wonder what he could do with the rest of his life. She understood that Touya never really looked to the future or imagined how his path might unfold. He didn’t care much for the past, nor did he make big plans for the future; his life had always been about surviving in the present. He had denied himself the luxury of wanting something for the future.

“Maybe it’s not about what you believe right now,” she said softly, holding his arm a little tighter against her side, “but about what you can still discover. Sometimes, it’s okay if the answer isn’t clear right away.”

He looked at her again, and for a brief moment, their gazes locked, steady but without pressure, before he turned his attention back to the distance. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he said finally, his tone dry, but there was something in his voice that made Juniper take notice.

Normally, in moments like these, when the conversation veered into deeper territory, he would counter with biting sarcasm, keeping everything at arm’s length. She was used to it. But not this time. He seemed to genuinely take her words to heart, even if only superficially, and that was a meaningful reaction for Juniper.

Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the sun began to set behind the walls, leaving the courtyard of the clinic bathed in a soft, warm glow, until the stars claimed the night sky.

Chapter Text

Juniper stood next to Hana, hands on her hips, staring in disbelief at the gigantic pit in front of her. The morning had started off more than unusually. “How exactly did this happen?” Juniper asked, taking a few steps closer to the edge of the hole and leaning over the freshly turned earth. It was absurdly large. A crater, as if a small meteorite had crashed into the clinic’s garden overnight.

Hana sighed and rubbed her temples. “Well, one of our patients, Hisashi…” She hesitated for a moment, as if trying to find the right words or a good explanation that wouldn’t anger her superior too much. Then she shook her head, her lilac hair flying wildly from one side to the other. “He was apparently drunk, and maybe he got bored and a little too bold.”

“Drunk? Since when can we no longer control alcohol in here?” Juniper responded, still not taking her eyes off the hole. Hana was relieved that Juniper’s tone held no strictness, just more confusion. Both of them knew the clinic’s strict rules forbade any form of drugs or indulgences, but it had only been a matter of time before someone found a loophole and smuggled in alcohol.

“You have to admit, though, he’s got a strange talent for digging,” Hana added, gesturing to the chaos in front of them. “His Quirk allows him to tear holes into any surface in seconds. We’ve never had anything like this happen before, and usually, he’s more in control, but under the influence of alcohol… well, you can see the result.”

Juniper raised an eyebrow and looked at her colleague inquisitively. “And where is Hisashi-san now?”

Hana met her gaze. “Sleeping off his hangover…”

Juniper nodded.

“…on the couch in the cafeteria,” Hana added in a quieter voice, turning her eyes back to the hole.

“I see,” Juniper replied dryly, shifting her gaze back to the dilemma in front of them.

She closed her eyes briefly, massaging the bridge of her nose as her thoughts circled around how she could frame the incident as part of Hisashi’s rehabilitation process. Before she could speak, a familiar voice sounded behind her.

“What’s going on here?” Touya, with his usual calm demeanor, stepped up to the two women and silently gazed into the hole. His snow-white hair fell into his face as he leaned over to get a better view of how deep the crater was. After a few seconds of silence, he lifted his head and, with a smirk, met Juniper’s gaze. “Quite a fuss for a bit of dirt.”

Juniper turned toward him and crossed her arms over her chest. “Please say that again later to our gardener. He’ll be thrilled.” She mirrored his sarcasm, and he enjoyed the playful, mildly annoyed look she gave him. “Anyway, we need to figure out what to do about this little accident.”

The click of a smartphone camera was heard. “We should fill it in as soon as possible before someone falls in,” Hana added pragmatically, putting her phone back in her pocket.

Touya pursed his lips into a thoughtful smile, his eyes half-closed as he gazed not at the hole but through it. “Or… we leave it. Use it, now that it’s already here.”

Juniper raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Use it?” She made an effort not to show how pleased she was that he had casually used the word “we” in that sentence. Apparently, he was starting to feel a bit responsible for his surroundings.

He shrugged slightly. “You’ve got a hole, so what? Why not make something out of it? Maybe a small pond?” He looked at Juniper with a piercing gaze, while Hana stared at him in disbelief.

Juniper placed her hand on her chin. “A pond…” She thought for a moment, then her face brightened. “You know what? That’s actually not a bad idea!” She clapped her hands together, turned to Hana, and gave her a light pat on the shoulder. “Get us a building permit from city hall, and let’s make it official.”

Hana blinked in surprise at Juniper, studying her to make sure this suggestion was serious. “A building permit for what exactly? A pond?”

Juniper made a sweeping gesture, indicating the large hole in the garden. “First, get us the building permit; the rest doesn’t matter for now.”

The assistant shook her head and sighed as she pulled out her notepad. “Of course.” She scribbled a few lines, then looked back up. “And what do we do with Hisashi-san?”

“Let him sleep it off. Then in a few days, we’ll hear what he has to say about the incident and whether he’ll share how he got the alcohol.” Juniper glanced sideways at Hana’s notes and checked her wristwatch with a satisfied expression. “Perfect. Since I have another appointment in about an hour, I’ll take my lunch break now. Would you two like to join me?” She looked around contentedly, arms on her hips.

Hana glanced up from her notes, disbelief clear on her face, though she wasn’t too surprised by Juniper’s statement. “It’s just after 5 p.m.”

She muttered to herself, “You’d starve if the cook didn’t always set something aside for you.” Then, a bit louder, she added, “I’ve got plans later and need to leave soon.”

“You don’t have a date, without telling me, do you?” Juniper teased, putting on a playful pout and blinking wildly at her assistant.

“J-June, what’s with that now!” Her glasses slid down her nose as she hid her flushed cheeks behind her notepad.

Juniper grinned, and Touya watched how she fondly, almost maternally, looked at her colleague. She must have guessed right.

“Well, then,” Juniper ran her fingers through her long dark hair, “I’ll see what’s left for me.” She turned to Touya, giving him a piercing look. “But you’re coming with me, yes.” It was more of a statement than a question.

He grinned calmly, hands in his pockets. “Oh, maybe I’ve got a date and need to go too.”

“It’s not a date!” Hana called as she stomped around the hole, making her way to the main building, leaving the two of them alone with their accusations.

———

The room was quiet, aside from the faint hum of the refrigerators and the click of their footsteps on the floor. The kitchen staff hadn’t yet clocked out for the day, but they were likely on their own break before it was time to prepare meals for the nocturnal patients.
Juniper nudged the kitchen door open with her shoulder, balancing a tray with a plate of curry and rice and an apple, while carefully trying not to spill her tea with the other hand. Touya followed her with an unopened chocolate pudding and a spoon he had casually grabbed from one of the drawers.

They wandered through the cafeteria, hearing only soft snores from one corner. Mr. Hisashi, Juniper thought, as she sipped at her hot tea. With a small nod of her head, she gestured toward the elevator and whispered to Touya, barely audibly, “Come on, let’s go to my office instead.”

Once in the elevator, Touya pressed the button for the Fifth floor, snapped Junipers Id card for approval and then spammed the symbol to lock the doors. Only after the doors closed in front of them did Juniper dare speak at a normal volume again. “I wonder how the alcohol even got in here.” The doors opened again, and she stepped out of the elevator, with Touya in tow, who had now peeled back the aluminum lid of his pudding and dipped his spoon into it.

“It’s taken almost four years for a first incident like this to happen, but I still want to address the problem as quickly as possible before more damage can be done.” She placed her cup beside her plate on the tray and fumbled for the key card that Touya had so unceremoniously let snap back to her breast pocket, where it hung from a string and clip on her slim blazer. After hearing the familiar click of the door unlocking, she let the card snap back into place and turned the doorknob. She repeated her question, more to herself, lost in thought. “How did the alcohol get in?”

Touya scooped a portion of chocolate pudding into his mouth and just shrugged. “No idea. I don’t really talk to the other guys here.” He pushed aside the blanket and pillow, making himself comfortable on Juniper’s couch.

Juniper set her tray down on her desk and turned on the small lamp at the side. Even though the day was well underway, she preferred the room to be lit only by a soft, warm light. “That’s okay. I don’t expect you to try and figure anything out. You’re here for yourself, not to act as a spy. It’s my job to find out what’s going wrong here.”

Touya glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, letting out a quiet snort. “I thought you were here to save all of us.” His voice was, as usual, a bit dry, almost mocking.

Juniper laughed, but her eyes remained serious as her gaze shifted from him to the food in front of her. “I’m doing my best.” She then picked up her chopsticks, taking a piece of carrot from her curry, and continued, “But I’m not a detective.”

He sank deeper into the couch, his eyes wandering around the room. It was more cluttered, piles of books, folders, and tea cups everywhere, except for her immaculately tidy desk. “Maybe someone’s drinking to make life here more bearable.”

“That’s the problem,” Juniper said thoughtfully, placing her chopsticks down again. “Most of the people here have been through a lot. If alcohol and drugs make their way into the clinic, it’ll only make things worse.”

Touya gave a brief nod, seemingly ready to end the conversation, but Juniper pressed on, giving him a scrutinizing look. “I’m serious. You’re not my spy, but I do have a different job in mind for you.”

He let the spoon sink into his pudding, looking back at her playfully. “Now I’m curious. What kind of job do you have for me?” He leaned forward, waiting expectantly.

“I’ll tell you more once everything’s in place. I’ve been working on this project for nearly a year, but we’ll talk about it another time.” She flashed him a promising smile and returned to her food, noticing how hunger had caught up with her. She grabbed the spoon instead of the chopsticks and took a big bite of rice drenched in curry sauce.

His eyes drifted from her back to his pudding as he finished the last few bites, then he peeled off the aluminum lid completely, licked it clean, and set everything down on the already crowded side table. He knew it wouldn’t make sense to ask more. He could tell by the look on her face that her thoughts had wandered back to the topic of the alcohol smuggler. Instead, he stretched out, sinking his whole body into the couch, arms crossed behind his head, and closed his eyes.

“Alcohol is probably the most socially accepted drug of all. Entire festivals are organized just to glorify it, smoking is still legal…” Juniper began while continuing to eat. “The statistics are alarming,” she went on, shaking her head slightly. “Even teenagers start early, about 9% of teens in Japan smoke regularly. And nicotine is just the tip of the iceberg. Worldwide, over 1.3 billion people still smoke, despite knowing it’s a leading cause of lung cancer and heart disease.”

Touya opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling, briefly recalling the cigarette he used to habitually tuck behind his ear. He said nothing, just continued to listen.

“What people often forget,” she continued, “is that alcohol is just as dangerous. Nearly 3 million people die every year from excessive alcohol consumption, whether it’s from direct damage to the liver and heart or accidents that happen under the influence. In younger age groups especially, alcohol is constantly underestimated. In the U.S., for example, over 20% of teens drink regularly, often binge drinking, which can lead to long-term addiction.”

He let out a quiet snort. “My old man always had a thing for the bottle, and not just at family gatherings.” He practically spat out the last words, his face hardening for a moment in bitterness.

Juniper took a moment to look at him. She knew this topic ran deeper than he was likely willing to admit. She had been expecting that their conversations would eventually lead back to his father, but his expression told her it might still be weeks, even months, before he was ready. She didn’t want to push him too much, so she chose her words carefully. “A lot of people turn to alcohol to escape their lives,” she said softly. “Some to numb their senses, others to forget their pain. And some… become violent.”

He stayed silent.

“Alcohol doesn’t just destroy the body; it tears families apart. I’ve seen too many people suffer because of it, partners, children, everyone who gets caught in that spiral. It’s rarely just the individual’s problem. Most of the time, the whole family carries the weight.” She scraped the last of her meal onto her spoon and took the final bite.

He said nothing.

She decided to shift the conversation, picking up the apple and settling into the chair across from the couch. “You survived the streets as a teenager, went through the toughness, the struggle… I wonder how much of that still lives in you.”

Touya barely shrugged, his eyes still fixed on the ceiling.
The silence spoke volumes. Even though he wasn’t saying a word, Juniper could feel that his thoughts had wandered back to the past, to a place filled with wounds that hadn’t yet healed.

Juniper waited for a moment longer, giving him space, but he remained quiet. She decided to push just a little further. “You were out on the streets, alone… With your Quirk causing you so much pain, I assume you tried to drown it out at some point.”

He let out a quiet snort, raising his eyebrows as if she had hit the mark. “Pain comes with the territory. I just dealt with it for a while. Eventually, it didn’t matter.”

“Just dealt with it? That sounds like you sought help at some point… even if it wasn’t the right kind.” Her tone was soft, but not judgmental.

He felt his usual defense mechanism rising up within him. Touya let out a heavy sigh, his fingers gripping the fabric of his pants. “At first… it was painkillers. You know, for the burns. It helped, at least with the physical pain. But…” He paused, as if considering whether to go on, but eventually he continued, “At some point, that wasn’t enough.”

Juniper tilted her head slightly, her gaze steady but gentle.

His breathing grew uneven, as if he had unconsciously held his breath for a moment. He swallowed, and for a second, it seemed like he was battling something inside. “The pain… wasn’t just physical. It… helped me avoid being alone with my thoughts or thinking about… him.”

She knew he meant his father, the anger and hatred that had fueled him for so many years. She didn’t want to interrupt, but she also didn’t want to corner him.

“So… you fell deeper into that world.” It was a statement, not an accusation.

Touya nodded slowly, the words now weighing heavier on his lips. “It started with painkillers, but then that wasn’t enough. I met people who… could get you anything you wanted. I didn’t do it often, but… sometimes it was easier when you didn’t feel anything for a while.”

“And eventually, it was harder stuff,” she added, trying to piece it together in her mind.

He nodded silently. For a moment, there was nothing but silence between them. Her phone buzzed, interrupting the stillness, but she declined the call.

“Your appointment?” His tired eyes sought hers.

She met his gaze with understanding. “It can wait.” She tucked her phone back into the side pocket of her coat, letting out a deep breath. Touya noticed that some of his own tension was starting to fade. The dull ache in his jaw reminded him that he’d probably been clenching his teeth the entire time. She smiled at him in her familiar, calming way, showing him that she was there if he wanted to continue.

“The hate I felt back then… it was my drive, my constant companion.” He placed the back of his hand over his eyes, as if something was too bright or as if he wanted to hide his face. It was a rare moment of vulnerability, and he wasn’t ready to share it with Juniper like this. “But when that hate wasn’t enough, my thoughts…” He swallowed, his brow furrowing, “…got more complicated.” The words seemed to slip away from him, so Juniper picked up on his hesitation, trying to help him shape them.

“I think I understand,” she began gently. “You relied on that hate for so long that it became like an anchor. It, along with your plan for revenge, kept you going. And in those moments when you felt that hate start to slip… fear crept in.”

She paused briefly, making sure he was following her. She wanted to avoid saying anything that might close him off. “The fear that without that hate, you wouldn’t be strong enough. That if it disappeared, you wouldn’t know what to hold onto. Fear that the hate was the only thing keeping you alive.”

Her words struck at the heart of his thoughts—she could see it in his vacant stare, in the way his fists clenched. “And then there’s the fear that other emotions, ones you’ve been burying for so long, might come flooding back, doubt, maybe even pain. Feelings you didn’t know how to process. Maybe you were afraid that if the hate faded, those emotions would overwhelm you, and you’d lose control.”

Touya swallowed hard, his gaze still distant. “It… was all I had,” he murmured finally. “Without it… I wouldn’t have survived.” His voice was rough, brittle. Hearing those words out loud, words he’d never dared to form himself, drained him of energy.

“You’ve been in survival mode for so long, it must’ve taken an unimaginable toll on you. It’s no wonder you sought relief.” She leaned back in her chair, her eyes following his to the ceiling, as if she, too, could see the shards of his memories scattered there.

Minutes passed in silence.

Touya closed his eyes, as if he wanted to shut out the words she had spoken. It felt like Juniper had seen straight into his soul, to the place where he was most vulnerable. For years, hate had been his armor, and now, as those cracks widened, he could feel his chest tightening. The fear he had long pushed aside was slowly creeping in, threatening to overwhelm him.

“I…” He struggled with the words, as if they were a heavy stone he couldn’t lift. “I don’t know if I’m strong enough… if I have the strength…” His voice faltered, and he hated how weak he sounded.

Juniper rose slowly from her chair and walked around the coffee table to him. She sat down on the edge of the couch, her voice soft but firm. “Touya, what you’re doing right now, that’s real strength.” She paused, watching his reaction before continuing quietly, “It takes so much more courage to face your fears and weaknesses than to hide behind hate. Hate is easy. It feels safe because it shields you from pain and vulnerability. But real strength… is in admitting that vulnerability.”

He stared at her, as if unsure whether to believe her words. But something in her voice calmed him, making the tightness in his chest gradually loosen. For the first time in a long while, breathing felt easier.

“Showing yourself like this,” Juniper continued with a gentle smile, “and accepting the fact that you’re scared, that’s real strength. It takes courage, and I see that courage in you.”

Touya looked at her, the words resonating deeply within him. For the first time, admitting that hate wasn’t everything, that fear and doubt also lived inside him, didn’t feel like a mistake. Maybe, just maybe, it was okay to feel these things.

She averted her gaze.
For a brief moment, he noticed a pained expression cross her face, as if something deep inside her was tormenting her. An impulse stirred in him, the urge to reach out, to ask her what was troubling her. He didn’t want anything or anyone to cause her pain. But he remained still, simply observing, and let the moment pass as he continued to watch the woman beside him.

With a soft, almost vulnerable voice, she spoke, “Sometimes I wish I had met you earlier. Maybe I could’ve helped you.” A gentle sigh followed her words, not forceful but careful. Then she laughed briefly, looking up at the ceiling, as if peering into the past again. “But I was just as young as you back then. I probably wouldn’t have been able to do much, even if I had wanted to.”

When she looked back at him after saying those words, she saw the surprised expression on his face. His lips were slightly parted, his eyes full of questions, and he returned her gaze.

She ran her hand through her hair, brushing the loose strands back, and laughed again, this time more nervously, almost embarrassed. “I’m sorry, that was completely unprofessional.” She glanced at her desk, as if trying to remind herself of her role, of the purpose she was here for. “I got a bit too personal just now, that wasn’t okay.”

He said nothing, just slowly sat up, shifting out of his reclined position, his eyes dropping to the floor. His wrists rested loosely on his knees, his torso leaning forward slightly as he silently stared at the carpet.

Juniper stood up and walked towards her desk, visibly unsettled by her own confession, as if she was trying to reorganize her thoughts. He didn’t stop her, though his eyes followed her as she moved.

Touya watched her in silence for a while before breaking it. “I’m glad you didn’t meet me back then.”

Juniper paused, surprised by his response. She hadn’t expected him to follow up on her remark. She assumed it was one of his typical sarcastic comments meant to provoke a reaction. So, she played along, smirking. “Oh, really? I’m not that bad of company.” With feigned offense, she placed a hand over her chest, her voice teasing.

“I wouldn’t have noticed you.” He continued. Their eyes locked, as if they were trying to see through each other without revealing too much. „And it’s a blessing you didn’t have to witness how I was back then.” The honesty in his voice was undeniable.

The openness in his words was inescapable, a raw vulnerability he had never shown before. For a moment, she didn’t know how to respond.

Instead of speaking, she just nodded slightly and looked away, as if giving him the space he so desperately needed.
Space that she also needed.
The silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable but filled with the unspoken understanding that had developed over the last few minutes.

Touya leaned back and closed his eyes, as if letting the conversation settle within him, replaying the words once more in his mind.

Juniper watched him for a moment before taking another sip of her now-cold tea and standing up. “If it’s okay with you, I think I’ll lie down for a bit.” She gestured to the couch that would become her bed for the night.

Touya opened his eyes slightly, glancing at her and nodding without saying a word. He seemed deep in thought, more than she had expected. For a brief moment, he considered making a dirty joke but decided against it, not wanting to change the outcome of the evening. He was grateful for everything that had been said. Slowly, he stood from the couch and made his way to the door.

With his back to her, he paused for a second. “Sleep well, Juniper.” Then he slowly opened the door, as if waiting for her reply.

“Sleep well too, Touya.” She couldn’t take her eyes off him until he had fully stepped through the door and closed it behind him.

As the door clicked shut, he stood alone in the hallway. The silence within him was no longer the suffocating kind but more of a peaceful quiet that he didn’t entirely fear anymore.

Chapter Text

Juniper sat in front of her laptop, reading through the report for the fifth time. She swallowed hard and rubbed her eyes, the screen was just too bright this early in the morning. Determined, she deleted an entire paragraph and began typing it out again, mentally following along as she wrote. “The hole he dug in the garden is a visible sign of his willingness to dig deep within himself and unearth hidden emotions.” She paused, proofreading, nodded, then read it over again, only to delete it once more. Crossing her arms on the desk, she rested her head on top, exhausted. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever written,” she muttered to herself.

Closing her eyes, she tried to come up with different ways to frame the report in a positive light. She said the sentence aloud again, testing how it sounded in its revised form: “It shows that he’s searching for ways to bring his inner chaos into something tangible, thus taking a step towards emotional healing.”

Juniper opened her eyes, tilting her head to the side as she hesitated. She still wasn’t ready to finish the sentence or even continue writing. Instead, her gaze wandered through the chaos of her office. She let the disorder sink in for a moment before her eyes fell back on her desk. But rather than returning to her laptop, her attention shifted to her phone. Seven missed calls, thirty-six unread messages.

She sighed and flipped the phone face down on the desk. Avoidance. She analyzed herself for a second, recognizing it as a simple way to ignore the problem, and then quickly pushed that thought aside.

Rising from her desk, she closed the laptop. “Juniper from the future can deal with that,” she thought, allowing herself to indulge in the small surge of productivity she now felt.

Thankfully, she hadn’t yet returned the tray from the previous night to the cafeteria. She gathered up all the teacups and counted them in her head, three on the side table by the couch, eight on the coffee table, four more scattered among the bookshelves, and the last six randomly around the room, including the one she had sipped from late last night. Once they were all piled onto the tray, packed tightly and even stacked on top of one another, she felt a small wave of satisfaction at having tackled that task.

Next, she gathered up all the books and returned them to their rightful place on the shelves. She smiled to herself as she realized that clearing away the teacups had been a good move, it gave her space to neatly arrange the books where they belonged. Standing with her hands on her hips, she proudly surveyed the large, built-in wooden bookshelf and was pleased to see everything back in its rightful order.

She turned her attention to the scattered folders and carried them over to the filing cabinets. Every now and then, she flipped through the folders, when a title on the spine reminded her of an unfinished task. As she sorted the folders, she knelt down to push the less urgent files to the back, bringing the more important ones to the front. That’s when she noticed a fine layer of dust on the floor.

The handheld vacuum had to be around here somewhere. Juniper went over to the closet, pushing jackets and blazers aside to unearth the device. She vacuumed thoroughly, even going over the desk chair, though it didn’t really need it. Satisfied, she stowed the vacuum back in the closet and gave her winter coat a final glance, relieved that the cold months were over and she wouldn’t need it for a while.

Then she picked up the last stray notes and papers that could be tossed out, as well as the empty pudding cup on the side table. The trash went into the bin, the spoon onto the tray, the office was beginning to look presentable again.

Only the couch needed a bit of attention now. She carefully folded the blanket, placed the pillow on top, and stored the bedding in the closet.

Feeling content, Juniper looked around her personal sanctuary and took a deep breath. A subtle restlessness reminded her that the morning had started for everyone else as well, and soon enough, the clinic would be bustling with activity.

Juniper sat back at her desk, now surrounded by the newfound order, fully expecting to finish her report on Hisashi-san and his little garden mishap with complete satisfaction.

Before she could open her laptop again, her gaze drifted back to the couch one last time. Memories of last night’s conversation with Touya resurfaced, and she let the exchange replay in her mind. Leaning back in her chair, she stared thoughtfully out the window, where the sun’s rays promised a warm day ahead.

It was one of those conversations that lingered with her, not just because she knew how difficult it was for Touya to open up, but because of what lay beneath his words.

The hatred, the pain, the sadness… she had felt all of it, even though he tried to hide those emotions. Every word he spoke was tinged with his past, with the years he spent fueled by anger and revenge. She could hardly imagine what it must have been like to end up on the streets so young, relying on substances to drown out his inner demons, with no one to turn to, no one to confide in.

He was, quite literally, utterly alone.

Then, she thought back to her own words and groaned softly, overtaken by a wave of shame and disappointment. She repeated what she had said, as if testing how foolish it sounded, and began mocking herself: “I wish I had met you earlier. Maybe I could’ve helped you.” What a stupid, personal, and utterly unnecessary remark. She should never have allowed herself to say something like that.

She buried her face in her hands, grumbling in frustration. She was crossing a line that one must never cross in this profession. She was getting far too personal, and turning it into a “what if” scenario was just so ridiculous, she could’ve slapped herself for it.

That “what if” game was dangerous. She knew she needed to focus on the present, here and now. The past couldn’t be changed. What mattered was that Touya was in her care now, and that she could help him, as much as she was able.

Juniper shook her head lightly, as if answering herself. Maybe she wasn’t the right person for this case anymore. She was letting it get too close, letting too much of her own emotions bleed into it. Maybe she should seek advice from someone else. Maybe someone else should take over the case.

She felt the weight of her own doubts pressing down and tried to make the right decision. Deep down, she knew she didn’t want to give up the case. Not now, when she felt she was finally reaching him.

Touya wouldn’t open up to someone else so easily, she thought, unconsciously biting her lower lip. She remembered how closed off he had been at first. For weeks, he had barely given more than curt responses, if he spoke at all. It was as if he had built a wall around himself, and Juniper knew she had only scratched the surface of what was going on inside him.

Why would he trust someone new now? She knew it had taken time for him to even begin seeing her as someone he could trust. Thinking back to those early sessions with him made that even clearer. There had been that empty stare, the way he crossed his arms, as if preparing to retreat to his room at any moment. It had taken weeks for him to relax, and even then, he had only opened up in fragments.

Now, things were different. She had managed to reach at least a part of him, even though he still had much to hide. But she had touched something, a thread of trust that was slowly forming, and she couldn’t let that go. No, she thought resolutely, I am the right person for him. She understood his pain, and she could see the complexity of his anger and trauma.

She straightened up, her confidence returning, drawing new energy from her thoughts. Maybe she had gotten too emotionally involved, but she took it as a chance to learn. “I won’t let my compassion overshadow my expertise. But I won’t turn my back on him just because it’s difficult,” she told herself like a mantra, knowing the message had resonated deep within her.

Just as she was about to turn back to her laptop, she noticed the full tray of stacked dishes next to her. “That needs to go first.”

With the clattering tray in hand, she stepped through her door, only to be met instantly by Hana, who greeted her with a pained expression. “Good morning, Juniper.”

Hana was just about to bring up the topic that had led her to her boss’s door, but her face shifted to confusion. “Did you throw a party last night?” she gestured to the overfilled tray.

Juniper studied Hana’s expression, trying to decipher what had brought her here so early in the morning. It was clear she had been standing at the door for a while, debating whether to knock, and she had the distinct scent of freshly applied deodorant. Hana must’ve been nervous, perhaps stressed and smoking again. Maybe last night’s date didn’t go well?

Juniper flashed her signature warm smile. “It’s good to see you, Hana,” she said, lifting the tray slightly to draw attention to it. “Oh, this? I was just tidying up.”

Hana squinted at her, scrutinizing her closely. “Okay?” She was just about to peer around Juniper to take in the rest of the room when Juniper redirected her attention. “So, what can I do for you?”

Hana immediately stiffened, shoving her hands into her coat pockets, nervously searching for the pen inside and clicking it a few times. “Well, to be honest, our gardener found the hole in the garden this morning before anyone could explain the situation to him. And, well, he’s now sitting in the crater.” She paused, clearly trying to figure out how to phrase the rest of the story as Juniper waited for the full report. “And, well, he’s curled up into a ball, buried himself in the dirt, and… he’s crying.”

Juniper looked at Hana without responding immediately, then her face lit up. “That’s the solution!” She balanced the tray of clinking dishes in one hand while placing the other on Hana’s shoulder, looking at her with excitement.

Hana blinked back in disbelief, trying to catch a thread she seemed to have missed.

“Take notes!” Hana quickly snapped into work mode, and since she didn’t have her notebook, she pulled out her phone to start typing.

Juniper continued calmly, “Hisashi-san has made remarkable progress in his self-regulation, particularly through his large-scale gardening project. Under the guidance of our clinic gardener and with the focused use of his quirk, he has found a way to channel the inner turmoil caused by his past and traumas. This physical work has proven to be an effective therapeutic outlet, helping him release pent-up tensions in a productive way. At the same time, he’s been able to further develop his social and creative skills, bringing them into collaboration with others.”

Hana snorted quietly while typing everything down, but it wasn’t disbelief, more like she was thinking deeply. “So, you want to integrate Hisashi-san into the gardening? Together with Mr. Kobayashi?”

Juniper nodded; it wasn’t hard to imagine how quickly the two would start working hand in hand. Additionally, she had found an elegant solution to present the monthly report in a positive light, without Hisashi’s recent slip-up reflecting negatively.

Hana glanced uncertainly back at the hole in the garden. “But what do we do about our gardener? He’s sulking in the hole.”

She pictured the pangolin in the hole and was about to speak to solve the problem, but Juniper paused, then smiled at Hana. “You know what, Hana? I believe you’ll come up with a good solution.”
Her voice was calm and warm as she continued. “I believe in you.”

Hana blinked in surprise, feeling the blood rush to her face. “Uh, what?” she muttered, visibly embarrassed, trying to suppress the smile that was forming.

Juniper gave her an encouraging smile. “People mostly just want to feel accepted and appreciated, you know? Kobayashi-san will bounce back quickly if you make him feel needed.”

Hana looked down at the floor, but Juniper noticed how her eyes suddenly brightened. “I… I think you’re right,” she replied quietly, but with newfound courage.

Juniper nodded, her hand still resting on Hana’s shoulder in a familiar, steady touch. “And while you’re at it, why not bring the two of them together? They can work on fixing up the garden as a team. Both have unique quirks, and together, they’ll surely make a great team.”

Hana laughed nervously, but the idea seemed to appeal to her. “That actually doesn’t sound bad at all. Thanks, Juniper. I’ll give it a try.”

Juniper smiled encouragingly at her. “I know you’ll do great. I trust you.”

Hana grew bolder, almost mischievous.
She peeked curiously through the half-open door of Juniper’s office, wanting to see if Juniper had actually cleaned up. To her surprise, the room she could see was neat. The couch, especially, was free of any bedding. “Juniper, are you actually going home today?” Hana asked, skeptically.

Juniper froze for a moment, her thoughts momentarily stuck. She realized she was taking too long to answer and hoped her expression didn’t give away too much. “Yes,” she finally replied, somewhat hesitantly. As she spoke the word, she realized she’d probably made the decision unconsciously. Perhaps even when she ignored the call yesterday.

Chapter Text

“You were gone,” Touya remarked dryly as he took a package from Juniper’s hand. He immediately felt its weight and reached for the second one before she could protest.

Juniper was surprised to see him at the reception. Grateful that she wouldn’t have to carry the heavy packages across the clinic, she adjusted her grip on her shopping bag, which jingled slightly. “I had some things to take care of at home,” she replied with a gentle smile, throwing the bag’s strap over her shoulder.

Touya narrowed his eyes slightly, caught between curiosity and the urge to maintain his distance. Eventually, he settled on a neutral question. “Were you able to get everything done?”

For a brief moment, Juniper’s gaze seemed to linger, as if she were looking straight through the packages in his hands. Her thoughts appeared far away. But then she snapped back and resumed her usual calm demeanor. “Yes, I brought some things from home and ran a few errands.” She nodded toward the boxes in his arms. “Those need to go to House 4.”

She led the way, and as expected, he followed, balancing the packages easily in his arms.

“House 4 is in use?” Touya asked as they walked through the hallways. He pictured the old, half-abandoned garden house, which he always remembered as overgrown and deserted.

“Yes,” Juniper answered, walking deeper into the clinic. “It’s being renovated into new meditation rooms. A little project that should be completed in the next few weeks.”

As they walked through the clinic’s long corridors, they passed a handful of patients, all of whom lit up upon seeing Juniper. Many greeted her with bright smiles, a few even called out cheerfully, “Dr. Inomori, you’re back!” Some even mentioned how much she had been missed. Juniper responded with a warm smile, waving or thanking each one genuinely as they passed by.

The halls were filled with the soft murmur of patients and the quiet clicking of their footsteps on the floor. A light, fresh scent of herbs wafted from one of the treatment rooms nearby. Juniper realized it felt good to be back. It felt right, the clinic, with its lively, warm atmosphere. Large windows let in the soft light of late morning, casting the corridor in golden tones. The contrast between the bustling interior and the quieter outdoor areas was already apparent.

Touya, walking calmly and silently behind her, remained unmoved by the cheerful mood. His eyes were fixed on her back as he wordlessly passed by the other residents. “Another garden project, huh,” he muttered, sounding more like a dry observation than genuine interest in the week’s events.

“Oh, you’ve already heard?” Juniper glanced over her shoulder at him, grinning mischievously, her teeth flashing. “We have a second gardener now, one of my brilliant ideas.” Her voice brimmed with confidence, radiating self-assurance. It put Touya at ease, especially after their last conversation, which had ended on a somewhat unsettling note. She had given him plenty to think about, especially regarding his past. Her one-week absence had certainly been unusual.

“Hard not to notice when my window looks right at that… hole,” he replied dryly, with a touch of sarcasm. Maybe he hoped to tease her, but his voice was flat and expressionless.

Juniper didn’t seem fazed at all and quickly shot back, “Well, your view will be much better once everything’s finished.” Her eyes sparkled as she spoke, brimming with pride for the future. She walked confidently through the large glass doors at the end of the hall, stepping into the garden. The sliding doors opened silently before her, and a light breeze brushed against her face.

She paused for a moment, then gave a quick nod in the direction they needed to go, as if he didn’t know his way. Touya rolled his eyes subtly and followed her, though he probably knew every corner of the garden better than most.

They walked side by side along the narrow path, their footsteps crunching softly on the gravel. Juniper took a deep breath of the fresh air, unable to hide a satisfied smile as her gaze fell on the cherry trees. During her absence, the delicate branches had finally mustered the courage to bud. The soft pink blossoms made her pause, and a hint of spring wind carried the sweet fragrance of fresh blooms into the air. The long, relentless rain of the past weeks had made her worry that Hanami might be completely washed away this year.

“Maybe we should hold a little cherry blossom festival,” she said enthusiastically, unable to contain her joy at the sight of the blooming trees. But her excitement quickly faded as her eyes drifted over the still gaping hole in the ground that Hisashi had left behind, a stark contrast to the soft, peaceful atmosphere of the cherry blossoms.

Touya shot her a sidelong glance, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Yeah, sure, let’s have the festival right in the crater. Or better yet, let’s make it a competition ‘Who falls into the hole first?’ Sounds fun.”

Juniper raised an eyebrow and smirked slightly. “Ah, always the optimist. You should go into event planning.”

He grinned at her, and she shot him a look that said it all: a knowing smile, mixed with the unspoken message, ‘You never change.’

“Anyway, I’m sure you’ve always wondered what the purpose of House 4 is,” she continued, shifting the conversation back to business.

He tried to recall the last time he’d actually thought about the overgrown garden house, aside from this context. Nothing came to mind. But before he could offer a sarcastic response, she was already explaining.

“It was originally supposed to be a small temple complex, intended to be completed around the time this clinic opened,” Juniper explained, her voice tinged with nostalgia, as if she were momentarily lost in fading memories of the clinic’s early days. Her pace slowed as she adjusted the bag on her shoulder. Touya, watching her from the corner of his eye, wondered if the bag was as heavy as the boxes he carried, but she seemed determined to bear the weight herself.

“The entire project was never under a good star,” she continued, her eyes briefly glazing over as she drifted into her thoughts. “There were disagreements within the funding committee about whether a religious temple was appropriate. Some felt that a temple might conflict with the clinic’s neutral, scientific approach.”

Touya noticed a subtle tension in her voice, a faint hint of regret as she recounted the story. Perhaps those disputes still lingered in her mind. She lifted her head slightly and continued, “Eventually, the city council gave their recommendation, and we got a really renowned architect.”

A fleeting, bittersweet smile crossed her lips before her voice took on a more melancholic tone. “Unfortunately, he was already quite old and passed away just before the project was finished.” Her words hung in the air for a moment, as if the thought of the architect’s loss had also weighed down the temple itself, and she paused, seemingly reflecting on the unfinished work.

Touya walked beside her in silence, observing her closely.

She shook her head slightly, as if trying to shake off those thoughts. “And I don’t know how it all spiraled into such absurdity, but rumors started swirling around the temple,” she added with a small, incredulous laugh. It sounded like even she couldn’t quite believe the absurdity of the situation, though a faint trace of doubt lingered in her expression, never fully leaving her. “What superstition does to people… sometimes it’s just plain crazy.”

“The construction workers told stories about supposedly strange occurrences. Noises no one could explain, tools seemingly moving on their own… Some said the place was cursed.” She rolled her eyes slightly, and Touya noticed with amusement how annoyed she was at how childish the whole situation seemed.
“They figured that the spirit of the architect didn’t want the building to be finished without him.”

Touya scoffed dismissively. “A ghost?” Sarcasm dripped from his words. “I bet that did wonders for the clinic’s grand opening.”

Juniper gave him a sideways glance and nodded in agreement, accompanied by a weary sigh. “I had my hands full with the opening and really didn’t have time to deal with the temple. Honestly, it was easier for me to just forget about it.”

The sun was high in the sky, blinding them both as they walked down the narrow path. Juniper raised her hand to shield her eyes from the blinding light. For a moment, her face was bathed in a warm, golden glow that gently framed her delicate features. Touya, walking beside her, took the opportunity to study her discreetly.

They had reached the building. Juniper paused for a moment, gazing at the temple before them. Satisfaction spread across her face as she saw that the gardener had already trimmed the surrounding area. The once overgrown bushes and weeds that had almost completely engulfed the entrance were now cut back, revealing the wooden veranda of the temple.

“Looks good,” she said, her eyes scanning the building. She stepped onto the veranda, and the wood creaked softly beneath her feet. Here, the air was cooler, the dark roof tiles still providing enough shade from the sun. She slipped off her shoes and placed them in a slightly weathered shoe rack, which seemed unused but stood firmly by the entrance.

Touya followed suit, silently slipping out of his shoes without putting down the boxes. Unlike her, he left his shoes just outside the threshold and stepped barefoot onto the cool veranda.

The temple itself exuded a deep, quiet dignity. It was traditionally Japanese, with curved eaves and a dark wooden structure. The veranda they stood on wrapped around the entire temple, offering a view of the surrounding grounds.

The large, double-leaf entrance door, made of heavy wood, was adorned with intricate carvings depicting old scenes from Buddhist mythology – dragons winding around mountains and cranes floating in the clouds. But the wood was somewhat faded in places, and it would need a fresh coat of paint.

Inside, it was quiet. The room that awaited them was large and marked by traditional simplicity. Tatami mats covered the floor, and old paper sliding doors hung on the walls, their edges slightly yellowed but fortunately not torn. A few curious beams of sunlight filtered through the windows, illuminating the room in soft light. Though it was clear someone had done a rough cleaning, the floor was free of dirt, and the mats looked clean, there was still a faint air of abandonment lingering.

“So… this is House 4?” Touya finally set down the boxes and straightened up, letting his gaze roam across the room. “Definitely not cursed.” His tone was dry.

Juniper simply grinned as she turned to face him. “Not cursed.” She looked around the room herself as if seeing it with new eyes. “It’s still going to take some work, but I think the temple has potential.”

Touya opened one of the sliding doors to let in fresh air and more light. “So, what was your take on all this?” His voice had a dismissive edge, the kind it often took when it came to subjects he considered meaningless. Spirituality, to him, was nothing more than a distraction from reality, a luxury he could never afford.

Juniper was in the middle of pulling a box cutter from her bag when she paused for a moment, looking at him with a slightly puzzled expression. “What exactly? The construction of the temple?” She looked at him expectantly, and when he only nodded silently, she continued. “That’s a good question.” She moved to the boxes Touya had put down and began slicing through the tape on the sides. “There’s a short answer and a long one for that.”

Touya stepped closer, partly to hear her answer and partly to finally see what he had been lugging around. Juniper pulled out several layers of packing paper, revealing a large, bronze-colored standing bell. “Even though I’m not particularly religious myself, I know that it gives many people hope. And as long as no one gets hurt, I think everyone should be able to practice their religion or spirituality however they want. That’s why I supported the construction.” She pulled out a soft cushion, clearly meant for the bell to rest on.

He watched her with half-hearted interest. “Hope.” He let the word roll around in his throat as if it were foreign to him. He leaned against the doorframe, folding his arms across his chest. “If there’s a god, they’ve long since forgotten about us.” His voice was cutting, bitter, but there was also that familiar coldness. He had no place for spirituality in his life. No interest, no desire, and certainly no belief that anything higher out there would care about him.

He let his gaze drift around the room that Juniper was looking at with so much optimism. “Churches, temples… if you ask me, they’re just places where people try to get rid of their inner demons.” He spoke with a certain sharpness, indicating that he himself had never felt the need to indulge in such things.

Juniper grinned slightly as she carefully set the box cutter aside. She knew he had brought up a big topic, whether intentionally or not. Her eyes sparkled, she was ready to talk about it, maybe even argue a bit. “Well, you’re not entirely wrong,” she agreed, as she gently peeled the tape off the box and folded the cardboard precisely. Every movement was deliberate, ensuring the box could be transported more easily in its smallest form later. “People seek shelter and answers in religion, leaving behind their demons, as you say.” She placed the bell on the cushion and looked at it with a satisfied expression, as if she had brought a small piece of harmony into the room.

Then, she moved on to the next box, keeping the lightness in her conversation. “Maybe it’s just comforting to know someone up there is watching, looking out for us.” Her fingers expertly removed the adhesive tape before she opened the box, revealing another standing bell. “For many, it’s the only way to talk about what’s going on inside them. Anything that gives people support, meaning, or peace is good in itself, right?”

Touya scoffed at her optimistic take. “Religion’s used by assholes to justify pain and control,” he said dismissively, not hesitating for a moment. He glanced at her, ready to see her reaction.

Juniper set the second bell on the cushion, briefly observing how the light from outside reflected on the shiny surface of the bronze bell. “It’s true that religion can be abused in the wrong hands,” she said thoughtfully. “Then it becomes a tool of power, and the people seeking belonging become a means to an end. History has shown us that more than once.” She shot him a quick glance, as if to check whether he was satisfied with her answer, before turning back to the boxes.

“What about you, Touya?” she asked casually while dismantling the box, her hands moving so calmly and precisely that it seemed like a form of meditation. “You were part of the Meta Liberation Army almost ten years ago. They were known for being a cult long before that, gathering followers, even having their own Bible to study.”

Touya stared out the window, bored, as if her words were nothing more than loud buzzing in the background. He tried to focus on something far away as memories flashed in his mind. “They were just a means to an end for that hand-freak and his plans,” he muttered, an image of Shigaraki flashing in his mind before disappearing just as quickly.

“Their mission was to make Quirks a human right for everyone, without licenses or restrictions. Was that something you believed in?” Juniper asked, her voice calm but full of curiosity.

Touya gave her an irritated look, as if the question weighed on him. “No idea. People do stupid things when there are no rules.” He met her satisfied grin with an impatient frown as she snapped her fingers and laughed confidently.

“Bingo!” she exclaimed, her laughter echoing in the quiet room. “That’s exactly why religion makes sense in a way. It regulates people.” She went over to a shelf, pulled out two cushions, and shook them off. A small cloud of dust rose, and she coughed before heading to the entrance to beat the cushions together, shaking out more dust. “We have laws, sure, but sometimes a moral compass is what some people really need.” Her voice echoed slightly from the entrance, and she gave him a smirking glance.

Juniper tossed the cushions gently into the center of the room and dusted herself off on the porch before stepping back into the temple. “That’s why I stand by the idea that as long as no one’s getting hurt, religion is basically fine.”

She knelt beside the cushions and rummaged in the bag she had been carrying over her shoulder the whole time. “Do you want something sweet or a tea?” She pulled out two drinks and triumphantly held them up over her head.

Touya stepped closer and silently took the soda from her hand. He wasn’t ready to sit beside her—much less admit that maybe, in some points, she could be right.

With a satisfied smile, she opened the green tea and took a few sips. "Meditation, on the other hand," she said with a slight twinkle in her eyes, "is a fine thing that I can recommend to anyone. And this place deserves a second chance." She tapped her hand next to her, a sign that he should sit down with her on the tatami mats.

"For me, there was never a moment in life when I thought I needed religion or meditation," he replied with a narrowed gaze. His voice was cold, almost cutting.

“Just for a few minutes.” She spoke with that soft firmness she was so good at, and he said nothing. There wasn’t anything to say, he resisted, as he always did, but something inside him began to shift. The usual defense, the constant skepticism, gradually started to lose its edge.

As she calmly explained how a simple meditation worked, he stared thoughtfully at his drink. It was a limited-edition sakura-flavored soda, released especially for cherry blossom season. He took a sip, letting the subtle, sweet taste settle, and it almost felt like the drink brought him a hint of lightness.

“We don’t even have to sit,” Juniper added, gesturing to the cushions she’d placed earlier. “We can just lie down. The zafu can be pillows instead.”

Touya blinked, hesitating for a moment. Then, without thinking much further, he nodded. He wasn’t entirely sure why he agreed. Maybe because, for once, he allowed himself to believe it couldn’t hurt. They lay side by side, their heads resting on the cushions, while the spring sunlight streamed through the windows, bathing the room in soft, warm light.

“This is stupid,” he muttered finally, his eyes half-closed. But his words no longer carried the same bite as before.

Juniper began to speak softly, her voice a calming presence in the background. “Just try to notice the sounds around us. Listen to the birds outside… feel the wind as it moves through the trees.” Her voice was soothing, almost hypnotic.

Touya closed his eyes as he listened to her words, tuning in to the chirping of birds and the gentle rustle of leaves. The wind carried the scent of cherry blossoms, and before he realized it, he began to relax.

“Now, focus on your breathing. Feel the air as it enters your body and leaves again.”

Touya furrowed his brow slightly. Easier said than done. He wasn’t used to shutting off like this. His thoughts kept pushing their way back in, like an untamed stream. So, he did what felt more natural: he listened to her breathing. It was calm, almost rhythmic, and without realizing it, he matched his breathing to hers. Her steady inhale and exhale seemed to soothe his restless thoughts.

For a moment, there was nothing. No anger, no rage, no defense. Just the sounds around them and a strange but somehow pleasant stillness inside him.

As time passed, his breathing grew deeper, and he fell out of sync with her. He had fallen asleep.

Juniper didn’t notice until she turned her head slightly. Touya lay peacefully beside her, his face relaxed, much softer than she was used to seeing. For a moment, she felt content, but then she realized how close they were. Her heart started beating a little faster. She quietly sat up and looked around, as if someone might have witnessed this intimate moment.

But there was no one. Just the temple, the wind, and the calm they had both found for that brief moment. She allowed herself to watch him a moment longer, then stood up quietly, grabbed her bag, and moved toward the porch.

Juniper rummaged in her bag, just about to take out a small wind chime, when she saw Hana approaching. “What are you doing here? You’re still on vacation today,” Hana exclaimed, looking startled, but Juniper quickly pressed a finger to her lips, signaling for Hana to be quiet. She gave a quick nod in the direction of the temple interior.

Hana followed her gaze and spotted Touya, peacefully asleep. Her eyes widened slightly, and she mouthed a silent “Oh.” She turned her attention back to Juniper, now speaking in a whisper. “How was Tokyo?” She paused briefly, her eyes searching Juniper’s. “How was it, being back home?”

“Loud,” Juniper replied dryly, without really looking up as she continued working on untangling the wind chime.

Hana understood immediately. Juniper wasn’t referring to the noise of the city. With a compassionate expression, she looked at her superior, wondering what the right words might be. But instead, she decided to change the subject, not wanting to burden Juniper further.

“How did you manage that?” Hana slipped off her shoes and stepped onto the porch before correcting herself. “I mean, not how you got him to fall asleep, but… how is he so…” She searched for the right word, but nothing seemed to quite fit. “…so tame?”

Juniper let out a quiet laugh, thinking for a moment about Hana’s question. “He’s actually a quiet person,” she replied, finally untangling the wind chime and holding it up, where the blue glass beads sparkled in the light. “He’s just started to clear things out internally. It’s new for him, and it probably scares him.”

Hana watched, fascinated by the dancing beads of the wind chime, but still tried to grasp the meaning behind Juniper’s words. “I’m just helping him let go, little by little, so he can carry the weight better. It’s not a fast process, but he’s working through the baggage he’s been carrying all these years.”

Hana nodded slowly, impressed by the calm and patience Juniper radiated. The sound of the wind chime mingled with the gentle chirping of birds, and for a moment, the world around the temple seemed frozen in harmonious stillness.

“Give me a hand,” Juniper instructed, swiftly climbing onto the porch railing at the same moment to attach the wind chime to one of the protruding wooden beams. Hana reacted quickly, stepping up and steadying her by the legs.

As the wind chime clinked lightly in the breeze, Juniper lowered herself back down and looked at her work with satisfaction. “Hana,” she said gently, without turning around, “could you ask the cook to prepare some soba? He’ll probably be hungry after his nap.”

Hana nodded quickly, her expression neutral, though a small smile played on her lips. “Got it. I’ll have the cook prepare something for you as well and bring it here. I bet you haven’t eaten either.”

Juniper turned toward her, the light clinking of the wind chime accompanying the movement. “Thank you, Hana,” she replied with a soft, warm smile that rested gently on her friend.

Chapter Text

Touya slowly opened his eyes as the first rays of morning sunlight filtered through the windows of his room. He lay on his futon, the warmth of the morning filling the air. But instead of leaning into the quiet, he sat up.

At first, he considered heading to the gym, one of the few activities in the facility that he regularly participated in. The gym was well-equipped with machines and weights, and fortunately, the people who visited were always so absorbed in their workouts or listening to music with headphones that he didn’t have to talk to anyone.

Glancing at the wristwatch lying loosely on the bedside table, he realized it was still early, a perfect time to start the morning with a visit to the sento, the clinic's bathhouse.

It was early enough that no one else was likely to be there, perfect for him to relax undisturbed.

Without much thought, he left the futon as it was and stepped barefoot onto the cool tatami mats of his room. The idea of making the bed didn’t even cross his mind; he would return later to finish the day right there. For now, the promise of the hot water in the sento was all that mattered.

He slipped on a simple yukata, grabbed a change of underwear and a towel, and left the room, heading for the elevator. The halls were still quiet, with no sign that anyone else had woken up yet. When the elevator doors opened, he stepped inside and pressed the button for the basement, where the sento awaited.

Upon arriving in the basement, he entered the men's section, marked by a blue curtain hanging above the door. The changing room was as pristine and orderly as ever, looking as though it had just been cleaned. Wooden benches lined the walls, and lockers made of light cedar stood ready. The faint scent of fresh herbs and essential oils lingered in the air, mingled with a subtle hint of rising steam.

Touya opened one of the lockers, neatly placed his yukata and the rest of his clothes inside, then closed the door. Barefoot and with only a small towel slung over his shoulder, he stepped into the preparation area. Showers lined one wall, each with a small wooden stool and a mirror in front. He sat down on one of the stools, turned on the water, and let it run over his hands until it reached the right temperature. Then, methodically, he began to wash, soaping his body and hair until he was covered in suds. After rinsing off, he used the small towel to dry his face, then made his way to the main bath.

The room was filled with warm steam, and the hot water in the large bath shimmered under the soft light. He dipped one foot into the water, feeling the immediate release of tension in his muscles as the heat enveloped him. Slowly, he sank into the bath.

The warmth embraced him like a blanket, melting away every bit of stress. The sensation of the hot water surrounding his skin was almost overwhelmingly pleasant. The silence around him allowed him to take a deep breath, and as he closed his eyes, his thoughts began to drift.

He leaned back, resting his arms along the edge of the bath, and let the heat do its work. The tension that had built up over the week in his shoulders and neck began to dissipate. A slight smile touched his lips as he listened to the gentle sound of the water and felt the last remnants of unease slip away.

Suddenly, the sento door slid open with a soft noise, and his eyes instinctively snapped open, glancing towards the entrance. Standing there was Reno Takahashi, the clinic’s physical therapist, looking mildly surprised to see someone in the bath so early in the morning.

“Oh, Touya! Didn’t expect to run into you here,” Reno said with a grin as he entered the room.

Touya gave a small nod, though a faint smile tugged at his lips. Reno was extroverted, full of energy, always ready to start a conversation, even at this hour. The two of them got along well, though Touya could never quite tell if it was Reno’s easygoing nature or the fact that they were the same age. If he had to share the bath with someone this morning, Reno was an acceptable choice.

The physical therapist had an interesting quirk, a mix of petrification and dinosaur-like traits. He could harden his skin at will, and Touya had already experienced firsthand in his second week at the clinic just how firm Reno's massages could be because of it.

His most noticeable feature, however, was his long dinosaur tail, which he usually kept wrapped comfortably around his waist. Despite his rough, somewhat dangerous appearance and solid build, Reno was an incredibly skilled physical therapist. His hands were precise and practiced, able to ease even the most stubborn tension and pain.

"I figured I’d start my day in the bath. I was hoping to be alone, but well, it is what it is," Reno added as he strolled into the preparation area, towel in hand.

"Same," Touya replied calmly, leaning back into the warm water again. He watched from the corner of his eye as Reno quickly sat on one of the stools and began his wash routine, unfastening his tail from its belt loop to let it hang freely. As expected, Reno went about it in his usual manner, ast, efficient, though maybe not as thorough as Touya himself would have been.

Once Reno finished washing his hair, he stood, left his towel on one of the wooden racks, and joined Touya in the water. With a deep sigh, he sank into the hot bath, closing his eyes as the heat immediately started to take effect.

"Nothing beats a hot bath to start the day, huh?" Reno asked, leaning back and visibly relaxing. "So, what’s your plan for today? Hitting the gym or just chilling?"

Touya gave a slight shrug.

Reno chuckled, clearly unimpressed with the short response. "Well, I’ve got some interesting patients today. You know, it’s really fascinating, the quirks I sometimes have to treat. You wouldn’t believe the kinds of exercises I end up suggesting or even making up on the spot."

Touya glanced over at him, mildly interested but remaining silent. Reno took that as a cue to keep talking.

"Yesterday, I had a guy who could turn his arms into feathers. You can’t imagine how tricky it is to explain to someone how to train with feather arms. I ended up improvising with some resistance bands, but honestly... it looked pretty ridiculous." He laughed quietly, as if picturing the scene all over again.

"And then there are the people who control electricity. Sometimes you have to get them to just... stay calm while I’m massaging them. It’s quite the challenge when you consider that some of them start glowing or sparking at the slightest hint of stress. It’s like working with walking glow sticks."

Touya couldn’t help but smirk. Reno's stories were often bizarre and hard to imagine, but always entertaining. Noticing this, Reno grinned widely.

"Yeah, my job’s never boring. And today, I’ve got someone whose quirk makes their joints nearly dislocate when they move too fast. Try teaching them how to stretch properly, that’s a real challenge."

Touya gave a small nod as Reno leaned back and relaxed. Even though he would have preferred some peace and quiet, he had to admit that Reno’s company was never unpleasant, just the complete opposite of the silence he sometimes craved.

The quiet settled comfortably in the room, with only the soft sound of water gently rippling around them. Reno , looking relaxed, ran his fingers through the warm water and seemed lost in thought for a moment. Then, without warning, he raised an eyebrow and glanced curiously at Touya.

"So," he began, "do you have a crush on Dr. Inomori or something? You hang out with her quite a bit."

Touya blinked and slowly turned to him, visibly annoyed by the question. His brow furrowed slightly. "What?" He shook his head lightly. "No. It’s not like there’s much else for me to do here."

Reno chuckled softly, seemingly amused by Touya's cool reaction. "Okay, okay, I was just asking. You rarely see her alone, either Hana-chan or you are with her." He paused, grinning as if he'd heard some juicy rumors. "You two just spend a lot of time together, and well, people talk, you know."

Touya inwardly rolled his eyes but remained outwardly calm. He didn’t care much about what people said. Before he could reply, though, Reno changed the subject as if the matter was settled.

"Maybe that’ll change soon and you'll have something to do," Reno said suddenly, splashing the water a bit like it was the most normal thing in the world to test the water's surface tension in the middle of a serious conversation. "Juniper’s been working on setting up a program here in the clinic for a while now," he stretched to loosen up and glanced over at Touya, "for the long-term patients. Could be pretty useful for folks who’ll be here for a while." He winked at him.

Touya stayed silent for a moment. His gaze shifted to Reno as the words echoed in his mind. A program? Here, in the clinic? That must have been the secret project Juniper had been so mysterious about. He recalled how often she’d changed the topic when he’d tried to pry more information from her. A subtle twitch at his temple betrayed his surprise, but he said nothing.

"Pretty clever, huh?" Reno continued, unfazed by Touya’s silence. "I mean, for people who have to stay here for months or even years, it’d be a good way to focus on something other than therapy. Maybe they could even make something of it when they leave someday."

Touya gave a small nod, still lost in thought. For him, there wasn’t really an "end" to his stay; he was one of the patients who would be here for life, but that was a fate he didn’t dwell on much. What intrigued him was how Juniper had once again exceeded his expectations. It was fascinating to see how she seemed to juggle multiple plans at once without losing track of any of them. He also realized more and more how much she genuinely cared about the fate of her patients, more than he had originally thought.

Reno chuckled softly and pushed off from the edge of the bath to swim in slow circles and let his tail snake behind him in the water. "Who knows, maybe I’ll take up the program too, but honestly, I kinda love just fixing you guys up."

Touya ignored the comment and sank deeper into the water as Reno continued to goof around. After a while, both of them began to prepare to leave. They stepped out of the warm bath and returned to the preparation area, where they washed thoroughly before heading back to the locker room.

"Feels like I’ve been reborn," Reno said, throwing his towel over his shoulder and dressing at his usual brisk pace. "Maybe I’ll see you in the gym later, if you’re not busy hanging out with Dr. Inomori again." He winked at Touya and laughed as he headed for the door.

Touya didn’t respond, instead grabbing his fresh underwear from his locker and getting dressed calmly. He put his yukata back on as well, planning to head back to his room to finish changing.

However, when he stepped into the hallway, there was Reno , standing frozen in place and staring at his phone. A sigh escaped him, followed by an "oh, well." He scratched the back of his head before shoving his phone back into his pocket.

Reno glanced over at Touya, amused, and then draped a strong arm around his neck, reinforced by his quirk, pulling him into a friendly headlock. "Well, what do you say? My team meeting just got canceled, so if that’s not a sign we should spend more of the morning together, I don’t know what is." His voice was casual, almost playful, as he swayed Touya side to side slightly. It was clear Reno enjoyed messing with him.

Touya shrugged off the hold with a slight shift of his shoulders, giving Reno a crooked look. He didn’t feel truly annoyed, even if physical closeness wasn’t exactly his strength. It was hard to stay mad at Reno since his teasing had a brotherly vibe to it.

Reno just grinned wider. "Breakfast in the cafeteria? What do you think?" He paused briefly as if considering something. "And honestly, after last night, I really need something decent to eat."

Touya gave him a curious look but didn’t feel compelled to ask any further. Instead, he just shrugged. "Sounds good. Let’s go." For a moment, he considered changing out of his yukata, but then decided it wasn’t necessary. It wasn’t uncommon for patients to wear their yukatas to breakfast in the clinic, and the soft shuffling of slippers through the cafeteria halls was almost a morning routine.

The two of them took the elevator together, and as soon as the doors closed, Reno started talking again. "You know, I had a date last night," he began, his grin widening even more.

Touya raised an eyebrow, and Reno took that as a sign to launch into his story.

“Yeah, my mom set me up through a matchmaking agency.” He snorted. “At least she tried! She’s been wanting me to settle down already. It’s always the same at family dinners: ‘Reno , when are you finally getting married?’ or ‘Think about the future!’” He imitated a high-pitched voice. “Sometimes I think she’d just drag me straight to the altar if she could.”

Touya remained expressionless, his half-lidded eyes giving nothing away as he buried his hands in the sleeves of his yukata. It was hard to tell if he was actually interested, but Reno kept talking anyway.

“So, this girl, Kyoko, she works at a kindergarten. She’s about a head shorter than you, has short black hair, and a really cute smile. Her quirk? She can shrink objects—pretty handy when the kids leave their toys everywhere. Makes tidying up easy and all.” Reno chuckled briefly, but his face turned more thoughtful. “But the date… it just didn’t click. Maybe it was partly because of this.” He nodded toward his tail, which was now lazily swaying behind him. “You know what I mean?”

Touya glanced at him from the corner of his eye, then quietly exhaled through his nose as the elevator hummed softly on its way up. Reno kept talking, and while Touya didn’t say much, he was still listening.

When they entered the cafeteria, it was relatively empty. The morning was already in full swing, but most patients and staff hadn’t made their way in yet or were already busy with appointments. Reno headed straight for the food counter, where a friendly woman stood behind the counter. Her hair was tied up in a loose bun, and she smiled as she noticed them approaching.

“Reno -san, up so early today?” she asked, winking at him. Reno returned her smile, leaning casually against the counter.

“You know me, Yumi-chan, always an early bird. Besides,” he shot her a playful, almost flirty look, “Touya here insisted we go for a bath and grab a bite to eat.” He winked back at her, and she giggled softly.

“Well, let’s see what we have for you today,” she said, listing off the day’s selection. “We’ve got miso soup, grilled fish, tamagoyaki, nattō, rice, and pickled vegetables. Oh, and there’s also some fresh fruit available.”

Reno tilted his head, considering theatrically. “Hmm, I’ll take the fish, a bit of rice, tamagoyaki, and something sweet. You know how much I love that.” He gave her another wink before leaning back, waiting for his order.

Touya stepped forward, nodding briefly to Yumi as well. “For me, miso soup, rice, and fish, please.” It was a simple choice, but it was all he needed.

With trays in hand, they found an empty table in one of the corners of the cafeteria. The seats were mostly vacant, which Touya appreciated. It wasn’t that he avoided crowds, but he preferred to eat alone, ideally in his room.

Reno dropped into one of the chairs, setting his tray down with a loud clatter. “Man, I’m starving.” He grinned widely, immediately picking up his chopsticks to scoop up a piece of tamagoyaki.

Touya sat beside him, briefly eyeing his food before picking up his own chopsticks and taking a small portion of rice to his mouth.

Reno shoveled food into his mouth, talking as he chewed. His jaw worked away, and occasionally, small grains of rice sprayed across the table, though he didn’t seem to care. “You know,” he mumbled through a mouthful of food, “I’m not even sure if I really want to get married. There are so many beautiful women out there waiting for me… why settle down so early, right?” He grinned, chewing on his chopsticks.

Looking back at the counter, he noticed Yumi sneaking glances at him from behind the food station. He chuckled quietly to himself, raising a hand to wave at her without interrupting his conversation with Touya. “Even here, there are some cute girls,” he added with a playful wink in her direction before turning back to his meal.

Touya, who had been quietly enjoying his food, finally chimed in with a short comment. “I thought you had your eyes on Hana.”

Reno paused mid-bite, blinking a few times, almost caught off guard by Touya’s remark. Then he burst into loud laughter, slapping Touya on the back so hard he almost choked on his fish. “Hana?” he repeated, snorting. “Yeah, I might’ve said that once. But, man, I’ve got way too much respect for Dr. Inomori to mess with her precious assistant.”

His grin widened as he imagined how the serious clinic director would react if he dared make a move on Hana. "She’d break my bones before I could even say 'hello.'"

Still coughing lightly, Touya couldn’t help but laugh a bit. Reno had a way of dramatically exaggerating things that was hard to ignore.

Reno leaned back in his chair, pointing his chopsticks at Touya. “Easy for you to laugh,” he said, still grinning. “Juniper is nice to you because you’re the VIP around here. But I swear, in the rest of the clinic, she rules with an iron fist. She really laid into me once over a small incident.” He shook his head slightly, as if reliving the drama of the moment.

Touya raised an eyebrow, watching Reno as he launched into another one of his stories. He thought about how Juniper could be both strict and compassionate. That mix of toughness and warmth was fascinating. She knew exactly when to show each side, and Touya couldn’t deny he liked how she handled it.

Meanwhile, Reno continued talking about Hana. “You know, she’s really sweet, but I think she’s a bit too serious. I could show her how to have some real fun.” He laughed at his own comment but suddenly paused when he noticed Touya wasn’t really listening anymore. Instead, Touya seemed lost in thought.

The physical therapist grinned widely and cheekily stole a piece of food from Touya’s tray. “Hey, you daydreaming about Juniper?” he teased, shoving the food into his mouth.

Touya, snapped out of his thoughts, didn’t hesitate. He grabbed the apple from the tray next to him and shoved it into Reno's mouth. Reno chuckled, surprised by the sudden action, but he bit into the apple, laughing as Touya calmly returned to his meal.

Reno took the apple in his hand, laughing unashamedly, his tail suddenly swinging under the chair in excitement. The long, scaly dinosaur tail, usually kept still, was now moving as if it was amplifying his joy. “You’re too rad, man!” he exclaimed, tossing the apple into the air and catching it. “But hey, I’ll take that as a sign that you like me.”

Touya shook his head, rolling his eyes.

After they finished breakfast and brought their trays back to the counter, Reno glanced at his smartphone. He scrolled for a bit, reading something before putting it away. “That was fun. We should do it again sometime!” He flashed Touya one of his famous grins and gestured behind him with his thumb. “Gotta run, though, team meeting got pushed back.”

The two of them walked through the hallway, and Reno resumed telling wild stories about his patients, a past ski trip, and a holiday fling. “You should’ve seen my backflip, it wasn’t half bad!” He mimed putting on an imaginary ski glasses and demonstrated how to shift his weight mid-walk to recreate his stunt. “The second one looked good too, but the takeoff wasn’t as clean.” He removed the invisible glasses and gave Touya a playful nudge with his elbow. “The girl from the cabin took great care of me afterward.”

Touya listened quietly, only occasionally nodding or giving a low “hm.” He was used to Reno dominating the conversation, and truthfully, he was glad he didn’t have to say much. But slowly, he began looking forward to the elevator ride and the peace that would follow. The constant bustle of the clinic and Reno’s endless energy were sometimes a bit much for him.

As they walked down the corridor, Touya suddenly spotted a familiar figure in the distance. Hana’s silhouette moved swiftly from one of the meeting rooms to the reception desk, her petite frame clad in the typical clinic uniform. A faint smile tugged at Touya’s lips as he glanced mischievously at Reno . “I heard Asano-san had a date.”

Reno froze mid-step, his body visibly stiffening. His petrification quirk had a habit of kicking in whenever he was caught off guard or embarrassed. “What?!” He stopped abruptly, almost like a statue, staring at Touya in disbelief. “Hana-chan? A date?”

Pleased with the reaction he got from Reno, Touya smirked as he continued walking, seeing the elevator getting closer. He had to admit, it was fun teasing Reno . And for a moment, his thoughts drifted to Natsuo, his younger brother who was out there living his life and raising a family. Touya wondered if this was how their teenage years would’ve been if he hadn’t died at Sekoto Peak. With Reno, it was easy to imagine carefree conversations. Maybe Natsuo would’ve come to him at some point, talking about a girl he liked. Would Touya have been the big brother giving him advice?

He let the thought fade just as quickly as it had come and glanced back at the still-petrified Reno. Before he could say anything, Hana approached them, her face pale and her movements frantic and uncertain. She stammered something that sounded like a mix of an apology and a plea, her voice trembling. “I… I need help. The situation… it's escalating.” A man's angry voice echoed in the background, followed by the harsh screech of a chair sliding across the floor.

Touya merely raised an eyebrow, while Reno, still utterly perplexed, barely acknowledged Hana’s distress. Instead, as if on reflex, he blurted out, “Hana-chan, did you have a date?”

Hana froze, staring at him in disbelief, her eyes wide with both anger and shock. “What?! Takahashi-san, have you lost your mind?” She shot a quick, furious glance at Touya, clearly suspecting him of starting the rumor. Her small fist clenched as she punched Reno’s shoulder, but instead of achieving the desired effect, she immediately recoiled in pain, Reno was still partially petrified. Her fingers shook, and she waved her hand in the air, trying to shake off the sting. “Ouch! You… you complete idiot!”

By now, Touya had calmly reached the elevator and pressed the button to open the doors, leaving the two of them standing near reception. He didn’t think twice about whether he should intervene, deciding this was the perfect moment to slip away without much fuss. The shrill shouting of a man coming from one of the meeting rooms made him pause, but he dismissed the thought. When the elevator chimed softly, signaling its arrival, he pretended he hadn’t heard anything unusual.

Reno, having finally snapped out of his daze, looked at Hana with wide eyes, trying to soothe her. “Wait, Hana… I mean, Asano-san, that wasn’t on purpose,” he stuttered as she glared at him with a look that could kill. Touya rolled his eyes at the sight and how quickly Hana’s fear had turned into rage.

The elevator doors slid open, and Touya took a step inside. He could still hear the distant yelling of the man, a sign that something was definitely wrong in the meeting rooms, but it wasn’t his concern. Glancing back at Hana and Reno, who were still caught up in their little argument, he thought to himself that this morning was a lot noisier than he had hoped.

But just before the doors could start to close, something caught his eye. Movement. Juniper stormed out of one of the meeting rooms, her voice loud and almost furious: “I’m not listening to this anymore!” Her eyes flashed with determination, but then something happened that demanded Touya’s full attention. A man in a black suit appeared behind her, roughly grabbing her wrist to pull her back.

Juniper saw Hana and tried to run to her assistant, but the harsh grip yanked her violently backward. With narrowed eyes and a furious expression, she glared at the man who had pulled her so forcefully and struggled unsuccessfully to free herself.

As the elevator doors slowly began to close, taking him to the floor he had selected, Touya swiftly stopped the silver sliding door with one hand, needing a better understanding of what was happening in front of him.

He didn’t recognize the man, so he clearly wasn’t a staff member. The black suit and polished dress shoes left no doubt that this was an outsider, not a patient, and whatever was escalating in the therapy session wasn’t part of the usual clinic chaos.

Without really taking his eyes off Juniper, he quickly glanced at Hana, who was hiding behind Reno , and Reno, who stood protectively in front of her. His quirk unconsciously activated, forming a protective stone barrier for the woman cowering behind him, though she peered anxiously at her friend.

Reno, however, met Touya’s gaze with alert eyes, ready to react to any potential situation. His body wasn’t just a shield against the unknown man but was also cautious of the one he had spent the morning with. Yet, Touya dismissed that possibility entirely.

“You leave when I allow it!” the man holding Juniper’s wrist tightened his grip, causing Juniper to let out a pained whimper through clenched lips.

It didn’t take much to piece together that the angry male voices they had heard in the background all along had come from this man. Touya silently stepped out of the elevator, letting the door close behind him with a soft hum as it descended without him. His entire focus was now on Juniper and her assailant.

He watched as Juniper, her face twisted in pain, yanked her hand free from the man’s grip. Her eyes blazed with fury, but it wasn’t the blind kind. It was the anger of a woman who wouldn’t tolerate being pushed around. “I don’t take orders,” she said sharply, her voice clear and firm as she stood tall before him. Her gaze drilled into the stranger’s, and with unwavering determination, she added, “Especially not from you.”

Silence fell over everyone.

Then, a loud slap echoed through the clinic corridors, reverberating as though the very air was heavy with the violence that had accompanied it. The stranger stood there, his hand still raised, while the world around Touya seemed to slow to a crawl.

Beneath his feet, the ground began to tremble. It wasn’t the earth itself that shook, but something deep inside him, something he had long thought buried. The scene before him started to shift, slowly but relentlessly, morphing into something else. It became a dark mirror, a fragment from his past that he had tried so hard to erase. But now it came flooding back with brutal clarity.

Only the perspective was wrong.

Back then, he had watched from lower down, small and powerless. But the situation was the same. His mother lay on the ground. He wanted to move, but his legs refused. They were as if cast in iron, just like back then. He felt like that child again, helpless and forced to watch. Before him loomed the figure of his father, enraged, a menacing shadow towering over his sobbing mother. The soft, almost soundless pleading of Fuyumi mixed into the noise, barely more than a whisper in the background, but it cut through him like a knife.

The blows from his father rang in his head, all too familiar. Each strike was a blow to his soul, each hit another piece of his childhood stolen from him. Criminals and villains had felt his father’s fists, but no one knew them as well as his family did. The pain, the fear, it was all seared into him.

Back then, he hadn’t been able to do anything. The walls of the house seemed to trap him, the air too thick to breathe, his voice too weak to change anything. Helplessness had brought him to his knees, powerlessness hung over him like a dark shroud. He had watched as his mother and siblings were broken, one by one, and inside him grew a desperate, impotent rage that had never truly left him.

But today, he could act. Today, he wasn’t the silent observer who had to accept the pathetic fate unfolding before him. So many times, he had returned to that scene in his memories, wondering what would have happened if he had intervened. Today, he could find out.

Touya’s hand moved with purpose, reaching behind his neck. There, between the second and third cervical vertebrae, was the chip embedded to sever him from his quirk. His middle finger and index found the atlas vertebra, the first cervical vertebra. Together with the axis, the second vertebra, they formed a functional unit that allowed the head to rotate. Touya remembered the operation he had undergone while semi-conscious, to ensure no nerve pathways were damaged. He recalled the surgeon’s remarks word for word, still fresh in his mind.

His fingers continued to search until they found the point he sought. The chip, embedded deep within the nerve fibers of his spinal cord, performed its work there. Invisible and unobtrusive, but with fatal precision: it pinched off just the nerve that controlled his powers, his flames.

He raised his left hand and held it loosely in front of him. It was a movement that felt familiar, as if his body had performed it countless times, a ritual he had forgotten over the years. His fingers twitched, as if trying to awaken something, something that slumbered deep within him. A voice he had long believed to be dead screamed for his birthright… It screamed for his flames. It screamed for the fire that had once been second nature to him. The thought was almost intoxicating, and for a moment, he felt a heat burning in his chest, waiting eagerly for a signal.

Suddenly, it was as if the ground disappeared beneath his feet. A wave of dizziness hit him, and with each second, it seemed as though he was falling deeper into a pit of unconsciousness. But it wasn’t just dizziness. It felt like all his emotions were being drained from him, as if the air was being sucked from his lungs. The air he breathed was cold and stale, as though it had lost all its oxygen. Around him, the colors of the world began to fade, as if he had been pulled into a dream made of fog. What was this? What was happening to him?

He forced himself to stay present. With all his strength, he tried to maintain control. He focused on his legs, pouring all his remaining energy into them, as if they could still support him if he just tried hard enough. “Stay strong. Stay awake,” the thought shot through his mind, but even his thoughts felt distant and foreign. He tried to reignite the anger within him, searching for the hatred he had always carried, searching for the flame in his chest that had just been burning so brightly. But nothing. Everything was quiet. Numbness crept into his limbs, as though they no longer belonged to him.

What was going on? Had he accidentally damaged his nerves instead of the chip? But he hadn’t even touched it.

His knees began to tremble, and he knew he was going to collapse. Desperately, he lifted his head, trying to get one last look at Juniper. He needed to understand something
anything
before he lost himself entirely.

She looked at him. Her eyes were wide, as if she was experiencing the exact same thing he was, but there was something in her gaze, a realization that he didn’t understand. The world grew dimmer, quieter, but deep in his gut, he sensed that the emotions that had just been boiling inside him were now burning in her face. Her features were contorted with fury, the heat that had been stolen from him now blazing in her eyes.

His body no longer obeyed him. With a final, labored breath, he collapsed to his knees. The impact was dull, muted, as if he had already left the world around him. He tried to hold her gaze, or at least he attempted to. In the lines of her face, he thought he saw something regretful. Something that resembled an apology.

“She does have a quirk,” he thought, as his vision narrowed and the darkness finally enveloped him. And then everything went black.

Chapter Text

The heavy doors opened after the even heavier ones behind him locked shut. Three loud clicks, multiple grinding and whirring sounds, and a mechanical thud all confirmed that the passage behind him was now sealed by a complex system. Two guards in simple purple uniforms nodded to the security officers escorting him, scanning their badges, stamping documents, and exchanging brief, tense words. “Any incidents?” asked one of the stationed guards as he flipped through the documents a second time.

“None. Not a sound, not a twitch, no trouble at all, same as the prison transfer,” the guard by Dabi’s side replied with satisfaction. At that, the other men visibly relaxed, their shoulders dropping slightly.

Dabi let out a defiant snort, and immediately, all eyes were back on him, waiting for the notorious criminal to make another move. He flashed a grin, showing his white teeth under the harsh neon lights, then shook his head and rolled his eyes. Though brief, that small moment granted him a sliver of control. Then, he was back to being a man in chains, at the mercy of his guards.

The guard to his left gave him a hard shove to the side, pushing him down by the shoulders. At the same time, he grabbed a handful of Dabi’s white hair, forcing him to his knees and making him look up into their eyes. “No games. You may not be in max security anymore, but your life is still worth about as much as dirt.”

They hovered over him, their eyes fixed and snarling, waiting for a reaction, a reason to use their batons or activate their quirks. But Dabi simply held his bored expression, his face free of any fight. He surrendered himself to the situation, to the whims of these men. Nothing really mattered anymore.

Maybe once, he’d have burned them to cinders or treated them to a slow, painful death by flames. Such thoughts often circled in his head years ago, but now they only flared up for a brief instant. His mind now held only emptiness.

His escorts weren’t satisfied with his lack of response and seemed all too eager to dish out more punishment. To them, he was one thing: a murderer who, for reasons beyond their understanding, had somehow earned a second chance. “Earned” would have to be in quotes, considering a celebrity father could buy you any kind of freedom.

Who could blame the ex-soldiers for thinking this way? They’d experienced the war firsthand, seen civilians turn into killers simply because chaos was everywhere, revealing countless fractured minds. For them, Dabi had long been nothing but a tale and a wanted poster. And though his face wasn’t the same as the images in all those surveillance files, it didn’t change the horror and death he’d brought. Just the thought of that list of names and the attached images of burned bodies was reason enough for the guard who’d already hit him to deliver another kick.

The kick landed squarely in the middle of his spine. It wasn’t hard enough to break anything, but it was forceful enough to leave bruises and to ensure Dabi fell face-first onto the ground. His wrists, bound in front of him, pressed uncomfortably into his chest as he squeezed his eyes shut, doing everything in his power not to make a sound and deny his tormentors any satisfaction. Then, there was only emptiness in his head again. Why was he even bothering?

“I think that’s enough!” A mechanical click and hum indicated that the announcement was being made over the loudspeaker. “From here on out, Mr. Todoroki is my guest.” Another click, followed by the absence of that hum, signaled that nothing more needed to be said for the guards to step back from him. Dabi opened his eyes again, lifting his head slightly, and noticed a long yellow line on the ground beside him, stretching from one wall to the other.

He understood then that there were firm boundaries for the outside guards, and they were no longer within their designated area. The stationed guards helped him back to his feet, and Dabi noticed that these men on the other side of the line were, indeed, less rough with him. But perhaps Tartarus had simply been particularly brutal with its prisoners. Dabi didn’t want to get his hopes up about better treatment here; after all, it was still a prison. Just more like a mental asylum for high-level criminals.

His new guards led him swiftly across the room, the eyes of the security officers from the maximum security sector fixed intently on his back. Their silent vigilance weighed heavily until they reached another door, which was opened with a keycard. The metallic click of the lock echoed briefly before the door closed behind them. With each step, the thick, heavy doors of the outer zones seemed to fade behind them, and the doors now opening ahead of them began to resemble the ordinary entrances of public buildings. No bars, no reinforcements, just regular wooden doors that barely recalled the strict security measures of the high-security area.

The walkie-talkies on the armbands of the two guards lit up simultaneously, and a woman’s voice sounded through the devices in sync. “Good work. Can you please run through the basic protocol with him? I want to avoid any more incidents after this rough start.” The slimmer of the two guards responded briefly over the radio, then nodded to the doormen waiting by what appeared to be the last door.

Dabi recognized the voice immediately, the same one he had heard just a few minutes earlier over the loudspeakers. From this, he deduced that the unknown woman had been watching him the entire time through cameras. A familiar thought, given he was used to being under constant surveillance, the eyes of countless cameras fixed on him. Even so, an uncomfortable prickling sensation crawled along his neck as he realized how closely they were tracking his every step here.

“I’m looking forward to meeting you, Dabi,” the voice suddenly spoke again, this time directed straight at him. Instinctively, he lifted his head, letting his gaze roam across the ceiling of the room in search of the cameras watching him. “I’m genuinely eager to work with you.” Through the distorted sound of the walkie-talkie, he tried to detect her true tone. What did she really want? “I’ll be right down; I just need to wrap up two things here.” His eyes narrowed as he focused on the camera above the last door. Just another person who thought they could break him and lock him away for good.

Then the final door opened, and Dabi stepped inside. What lay before him almost seemed like an illusion, if the overpowering scent of incense hadn’t grounded him back into reality. The room before him resembled a luxurious hotel reception rather than a high-security area. Soft lighting fell upon a dark, polished wood counter, in front of which a cozy lounge area with plush couches was arranged. A burgundy carpet covered the floor, and on a low table, scattered magazines and an unfinished crochet project lay as though someone had paused in the middle of their work.

A young woman, in her mid-20s, sat at the counter, her glasses constantly slipping down her nose. She typed eagerly on her laptop, quietly mumbling every word she typed. An electronic cigarette dangled from the corner of her mouth, balanced between her teeth. She seemed so absorbed in her work that she didn’t notice when Dabi and the guards entered the room.

Dabi tried, without turning his head, to observe the men on either side of him, sizing them up. Was all of this normal? Their faces remained unreadable, so he directed his gaze to the room itself. The ceiling seemed high, but he didn’t miss the cameras in the corners. His eyes moved over the details: beyond the reception desk, there was an elevator, and a long hallway stretched into the distance with no end in sight. The walls were lined with doors, likely leading to various rooms. The room was dominated by a large window through which he could see an expansive garden. The lush green contrasted with the towering walls in the distance, a clear sign that no freedom awaited him here either.

The woman behind the counter was deeply engrossed in her work, her glasses continually sliding down her nose. But when she rolled her eyes in frustration at deleting a line, she finally noticed that the guards had brought a new patient to register. Hastily, she took the electronic cigarette out of her mouth and discreetly slipped it into one of the drawers on her right. "Don’t snitch on me!" she pleaded with a pained look at the guards. Then, she cleared her throat, got up from her swivel chair, and began reciting her well-rehearsed welcome speech: “Welcome to the Inomori Sanctuary for Recovery and Rehabilitation. We’re pleased to have you here…”

“The basic protocol, please.” The thinner guard interrupted the woman at the counter and handed her a file. Visibly relieved that she didn’t have to recite her memorized script, she took the document and quickly skimmed through it, muttering quietly to herself as her glasses slipped down again, hastily pushing them back up. “Shoddy template,” she grumbled with an annoyed sigh. “Looks like I’ll have to sort this out myself.”

She set the documents aside, fished a small syringe out of one of the drawers, and turned to Dabi. “May I take a tiny drop of blood from you, Mr. Todoroki?” Her tone was almost casual, but Dabi stared at her, puzzled and suspicious. Had she actually asked for his permission?

Seeing his hesitation, she shook her head slightly and tilted it, as if she often forgot to explain her actions. Then she straightened up and spoke with a hint of pride, “Ah, my Quirk allows me to create a complete medical file – including all relevant details: blood type, pre-existing conditions, allergies, intolerances, and even cancer precursors.” A moment of silence followed, the air seeming to grow heavier as nobody spoke. Dabi felt his confusion deepen, but he wanted to test the limits of his control here. “And what if I refuse?” His voice was rough and cold, but weak. He hadn’t been using his voice much lately, as he found little left worth saying.

The woman let her shoulders drop, disappointed. “Then… there’s nothing I can do. We’ll just have to rely on your Tartarus medical records.” She looked troubled and apologized with a deep bow. “I’m sorry if I upset you. I know blood-related Quirks still don’t have the best reputation.”

Dabi blinked, opening his mouth as if to say something, but no words came out. The situation was surreal. He had expected to be forced into compliance, not that she would apologize for her Quirk. Having worked with Toga Himiko, one of the most infamous villains with a blood Quirk, he rarely even thought twice about such abilities. What really interested him was how much autonomy he would still have in this facility, whether his free will would mean anything here.

With an annoyed click of his tongue, he finally extended his bound hands onto the counter, not to do her a favor, but to get this nonsense over with. The day had already been far too long, and he just wanted to go to his room. Or cell, whatever they had in mind for him.

The woman looked at his hands with wide eyes, muttering something about a key she’d received that morning. She finally found the right key in a tray, and with a soft click, the handcuffs fell onto the wooden counter. She took the syringe, giving Dabi one last questioning look, almost as if she was waiting for his consent again. “This will only prick a bit,” she said softly, taking his left hand in hers. With a quick prick to his index finger, it was over. She released his hand, and Dabi felt barely more than a faint pressure.

Dabi took a deep breath as he looked down at the open handcuffs. The cold, metallic pressure that had clung to his wrists had offered a strange kind of comfort, a constant he'd grown accustomed to over his years behind bars. The harshness of the walls, the darkness of the cells, the unchanging routine of the days, all of it had become his reality. The structured, relentless order was the only thing stopping him from completely losing his mind. No expectations, no surprises. Nothing. Everything was always the same. The feeling of being physically restrained was like a calming embrace – his body knew where it belonged.

But now, here in this strange room with warm colors, soft carpets, and kind words, he felt... out of place. The scent of incense burned his nose, and the air was too still, too quiet. The low murmurs and busyness around him sounded muffled, as though they were drifting through water. Everything felt unnatural. Too soft. Too gentle. Too much.

Slowly, his stomach churned. He tried to hold onto something familiar, a routine, a clear command, but there was nothing. Instead, the silence around him began to feel menacing. His heart rate quickened without him really noticing. The walls, which had seemed so calm, seemed to close in, as though the room was growing smaller.

His fingers twitched slightly, but he tried to keep them still. Deep inside him, something restless stirred, but he couldn’t name it. His breaths became shallower without him realizing it, while every little detail around him grew sharper, the muted voices, the hum of electronics, the faint buzz of ceiling fans. Everything suddenly sounded louder, more intense. Dabi closed his eyes for a moment, but it didn’t help. Instead, the darkness behind his eyelids grew deeper, more threatening.

His gaze wandered to the counter and the woman who was calmly continuing her work. How could she be so calm? Thoughts raced through his mind, but none of them made any sense. His palms felt clammy, even though the room was anything but warm. Panic crept into his mind like a dark cloud, but he couldn’t grasp it, couldn’t recognize it. Instead, he kept trying to cling to something, anything, to regain control. But there was nothing. Nothing familiar. No metallic pressure. No bare concrete floor under his feet.

The constant, rigid order he had clung to for so long was no longer there. Here, nothing held him. He felt lost. Control slipped quietly, almost imperceptibly, from his fingers. His breaths grew even shallower, but he paid it no mind. It was as though the room was shrinking, and though his mind told him it wasn’t, it felt real.

His heart was racing now, yet somehow it felt strangely distant. He swallowed, but his mouth was dry. He tried to focus on his surroundings, on the faint sound of the woman typing, on the monotonous hum of the machines, but it didn’t help. Nothing worked. He was stuck in this spiral of discomfort, without understanding how he’d gotten here.

Just when Dabi felt everything starting to overwhelm him, his eyes began to close. His body, exhausted from hours of tension, just wanted to give in, to collapse. But before the darkness could swallow him, a soft, almost melodic tone announced the arrival of an elevator. A faint whoosh of sliding doors followed. The sound abruptly pulled him out of his paralyzing trance and brought him back to reality. His thoughts cleared as though someone had flipped a switch. With renewed focus, he turned his gaze toward the clicking heels that were steadily approaching.

“Juniper! I was just about to bring Mr. Todoroki to you,” the woman behind the counter called out excitedly, and everyone in the room turned to the new arrival. The guards, who had looked stern and rigid moments before, visibly relaxed. One of them even smiled and waved to the newcomer, as if she were a familiar and welcome presence.

Dabi watched the scene and noticed how his own tension began to dissolve, almost as if this woman was the center of an invisible web of control and calm.

She wore a deep red blouse with wide, billowing sleeves, while a white lab coat hung casually over her shoulders, ready to slip off at any moment. Her long legs disappeared into an elegant black pleated skirt that reached down to her stiletto heels, whose soft clicks echoed off the floor. To Dabi, the outfit seemed unconventional for someone in a leadership role, yet the reactions of those around him left no doubt that she was the authority in this room.

Her face was framed by sleek, black hair styled in a Hime cut, straight and perfectly trimmed, giving her an air of regality. Her lips held a slight, proud smile, while her eyes scanned the room sharply and analytically. For a moment, Dabi had to admit that she was an impressively beautiful woman with a presence that commanded the room.

Then he shook his head slightly, wondering how his thoughts had strayed in that direction so suddenly. The past few minutes had felt like hours. All he wanted now was to lie down, or whatever arrangement they had for him. Sleep? Maybe. Maybe not. But one thing was certain: he needed a break from this chaos that was slowly but surely driving him to the brink.

The woman, whose name was apparently Juniper, greeted the guards by their first names and sincerely thanked them for their work. "You can return to your posts now. I’ll take it from here." To Dabi’s surprise, the guards took the command without a word of protest. He watched, puzzled, as they left him, one of the country’s most dangerous individuals, alone with two women. Even without his Quirk, which was suppressed by the implanted chip, he was still a threat. Why would they leave him without more precautions?

“Very good, Hana,” Juniper said, leaning over the counter to turn the laptop and view Hana's notes. “I’ll take him to Conference Room 1 to explain everything, then I’ll quickly show him his room.” She picked up the room card that was already beside the laptop. Hana cast a nervous glance at the screen, hoping that Juniper wouldn’t find any mistakes. But it was too late. Juniper was already typing away, speaking and clicking through the documents as she went.

“You need to reach out to the mayor about my project. He’s taking far too long to respond,” she added, pushing the laptop back into place.

Hana nodded absentmindedly, mentally ticking off the new task. Then she suddenly remembered, “Oh, there’s a fresh wound on his back! I haven’t had a chance to add it to his file.”

Juniper’s eyes narrowed, and her jaw tensed. In her mind, she replayed the brutal scene of Tartarus guards kicking Dabi. She took a step back from the counter, visibly struggling to contain her anger. Hana could tell how hard it was for Juniper not to immediately lash out.

With a deep breath, Juniper finally calmed herself and turned back to Dabi, who was now staring blankly into the distance. “Come on,” she said calmly, “let’s get this over with so you can have some peace tonight.” With a curt nod, she indicated the direction they’d be going.

Dabi looked directly into her eyes for the first time. Who was this woman, really? But the question quickly lost its significance. He had little interest in finding out. Instead, he looked at his hands, now free from the cuffs, lifted them to eye level, and asked, almost provocatively, “And you’re sure you want me this close to you?”

His voice was cool and challenging, testing her reaction.

Juniper grinned, an amused glint in her eyes. Hana, observing the scene, smiled and shook her head as she returned to her work on the laptop. “Classic Juniper,” she thought to herself.

"Don’t worry, you don’t smell that bad from Tartarus," Juniper replied, unfazed. "You can shower and change in your room. Fresh clothes are ready for you there." Without another word, she turned and walked past the reception, heading down the hall toward the conference room. There was no doubt that he was expected to follow.

Dabi cast a final glance at Hana, who had returned to her work, then decided to follow Juniper, perhaps out of curiosity, or maybe to finally understand what this place truly was.

The room they entered was less of a typical conference room, as the name might suggest, and more like a stylish living room. Soft, brown leather armchairs surrounded a low coffee table, and shelves full of books gave the space a somewhat cozy feel, though it was undermined by the constant surveillance and Dabi’s wariness. A flickering faux fireplace on a screen added to the illusion, as if this room was meant for relaxation, not a negotiation over his future. He felt his tension rising again.

Juniper sat casually in one of the chairs, gesturing to the seat across from her and waiting patiently, her eyes attentive as she watched him decide whether he’d sit or stand. After a moment, he sat down reluctantly, shoulders tense, eyes alert. He wouldn’t allow this place to break him completely. It didn’t make much difference to him, but he wasn’t going to accept being shuffled from prison to prison like a side attraction in a traveling circus, passed from one keeper to the next.

Juniper took a deep breath through her nose, gathering her thoughts and energy, ready for what would likely be a difficult conversation. Or at least for the defensive stance she anticipated from Dabi. "Before we start, you're free to move around the Institute. There are no restrictions, as long as you follow the basic rules."

Dabi leaned back in his chair, which creaked softly beneath him, and looked at her with a crooked smile. His voice dripped with sarcasm. "Free to move, huh? How generous of you. I’m guessing it has nothing to do with this lovely little chip in my neck that cuts me off from my Quirk." He gestured to the red spot on his neck, still fresh from the operation, marking the presence of the device forced upon him.

Juniper met his gaze calmly, shrugging lightly. "I imagine it’s uncomfortable. The chip is there to make sure no incidents happen and to ensure that the public feels safe. So that everyone, both here" - she swept a hand around the room - "and out there knows that Dabi is being well-behaved. But your freedom to move isn’t tied to that. Here, you can feel and live as normally as possible. No chains or bars."

Dabi laughed quietly, a dry, bitter sound. "Normal."

Juniper didn’t let his words ruffle her. Instead of responding to his sarcasm, she picked up her documents and began explaining more about the Institute to him, almost in a businesslike tone, as if he were a new member at a country club, not a dangerous inmate. "There are several things available to you here. For example, we have a library if you’d like to read. There’s also a gym, especially popular with the men here. Everyone ends up going there at some point. And a cafeteria with good food, much better than Tartarus, I’d imagine."

Dabi glared at her, his eyes narrowed in distrust. “Occupational therapy, huh? Sounds almost like a summer camp for failed lives.”

Juniper ignored his cynical tone. “There are various recreational activities available. Art, music, sports, whatever suits you. It’s important that you find an engagement that helps you unwind.”

Dabi leaned forward, his voice growing cooler and harder. “And when exactly does the part come where you start this therapy nonsense? Or are you just letting me play around a bit before you try to break me?”

Juniper held his gaze, her eyes calm and unwavering. “Therapy isn’t something we’ll force on you. When you’re ready, I’ll sit down with you personally.” Her smile became almost challenging, a slight grin creeping onto her lips. “Many enjoy the sessions, more than you might think.”

Dabi laughed again, but this time it sounded hollow. “As if I have a choice.”

“You have more choices than you think,” Juniper replied, not breaking eye contact. “And I’ll be here when you’re ready to acknowledge that.”

Silence settled in the room for a while. Dabi stared at her, unsure whether to feel angry or confused. This person was different from those he had encountered before. She wasn’t trying to force him or intimidate him. Instead, she spoke to him as if he truly had the freedom to make his own decisions. Yet, deep inside him, distrust continued to simmer.

He remained quiet as Juniper continued explaining the daily schedule and the rules of the Institute. “Your mother wants to visit you as soon as possible, but these three weeks of incubation” - she raised her fingers to make air quotes - “have proven to be very effective.”

When she mentioned his mother, Dabi’s eyes widened suddenly. He fixed her with a stare, but Juniper maintained her usual smile, the same one she had worn during their first encounter. “I’ll take you to your room now.”

He followed her out of the room and into the elevator. The ride was silent. Dabi rolled his wrists, the feeling of freedom still foreign to him. Juniper looked straight ahead at the sliding doors of the elevator, appearing altogether satisfied, with no trace of fear or doubt. Odd, Dabi thought. To his right, he saw his reflection in the elevator wall, but the sight was so uncomfortable that he soon closed his eyes again. He felt fatigue gradually overtaking him.

The elevator finally reached his floor. As the doors opened, two cleaning staff looked up, seemingly about to enter. But upon recognizing Juniper, they bowed deeply. “Thank you for your good work,” Juniper said kindly, letting them pass. Dabi watched them briefly before silently following Juniper again.

She stopped in front of a door and turned to him. “This is your room.” She handed him the keycard. Dabi stared at her hand for a moment before snatching the card with a quick, impatient motion.

Satisfied, she pointed to the doorknob. “Just hold the card up to it. Inside, the scanner is on the left to activate the air conditioning and power.”

Dabi watched her with half-closed eyes, as if expecting her to add something or waiting for her to show him the room. Instead, she leaned slightly toward him, her voice soft and almost familiar. “Sleep well.” She turned and disappeared toward the stairwell, glancing at her watch before quickening her pace.

Dabi stood motionless in front of the door for a while, the card in his hand. Finally, he placed it on the knob, and with a mechanical click, the door opened. For a moment, he wondered how many people might have keys to his door, until he realized that he now possessed one himself. Strange.

He cracked the door open and hesitated, his body automatically tense. What if someone was waiting for him inside? A welcoming committee ready to beat him up? It wouldn’t be the first time his first day at a new facility ended that way.

But there was nothing. No sound came from the room. Slowly, he pushed the door open wider and looked inside. An empty space. A bed, a large wardrobe, a window looking out to the outside. No trap.

With one last glance down the hall, he finally stepped inside and closed the door behind him. For now, he was alone, and the silence embraced him like an old friend.

Chapter Text

Dabi woke up drenched in sweat after a night that had barely passed for sleep. The room was too quiet, too warm. The bed, uncomfortably soft. The morning light, too bright. And the entire atmosphere absurdly peaceful.

He thought about the uneventful last few days.

With an irritated motion, he kicked the blanket off of himself and stared up at the ceiling. By now, he knew every corner of the room, had examined every object, turned them over in his hands, shifted every piece of furniture just to make sure he wasn’t being watched. And, in fact, there were no cameras in his room, unlike the hallways of the clinic. Even the small bathroom attached to his room had no double mirror, just the standard, dull setup of an ordinary bathroom.

He had spent the last few days familiarizing himself with the space. The idea of leaving it hadn’t even crossed his mind. Every now and then, he held his breath when footsteps passed by his door. It was only a matter of time until they’d drag him out of there and do God knows what to him. So he tried to prepare for it, memorizing the walking patterns of those who passed by his door, trying to identify voices, categorize them.

But he quickly realized that the corridor outside his room wasn’t used very often, and when it was, it was mostly by cleaning staff going about their busy routines, pushing carts that rattled softly. Definitely not the heavy boots of men coming to rough him up.

And always at the same time each day, there were soft footsteps followed by the gentle clink of a tray being placed on the floor outside his door. He waited until the footsteps faded or he heard the elevator doors slide shut. Then, and only then, he peeked out to inspect the food.

It was usually made up of small portions: rice, fish, tofu, and pickled vegetables. There were PET bottles of water, tea, and even a sweet drink.

The first tray he didn’t even touch. It all seemed too unreal. Dabi was used to watery rice porridge, bland and colorless, tasting just as depressing as it looked. But in Tartarus, if you dared to leave your food untouched, you risked a beating.

He didn’t understand the sight of the carefully arranged plates that appeared outside his door three times a day. Most of the time, he just let them sit there, untouched, preferring instead to close the door again and retreat to the false safety it offered from the questions he didn’t want to face.

But the evening before, a different pattern of footsteps approached his door and he knew, even without hearing her voice, that it was the woman from the first day. He assumed she must have the key to his room and that the moment had finally come. She was going to punish him for barely touching the food.

But she came alone and stopped right in front of the door.

Dabi froze, not even daring to breathe, trying to brace himself for anything, for whatever would happen if she opened that door. But it remained closed, and only three gentle knocks sounded against it. He stared at the wooden surface, as if trying to see through it.

She didn’t say much.
“Starting today, I’ll be waiting for you every evening at 6 p.m. in the conservatory, with a serving of soba.”
She paused slightly, clearly not expecting an answer or any kind of reaction.
“Whether or not you decide to join me is entirely up to you.”
Then her footsteps faded away.

Since then, Dabi had spent his time lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to keep his thoughts as empty as possible.

Morning turned into noon when he heard the familiar clinking of a tray being placed outside his door. But the image of the usual meal in his head shifted into something else.

Soba, he thought.
And instantly, the taste came to mind, the coolness of the noodles, the salty aroma of the broth, the feeling of something familiar that he hadn’t experienced in what felt like a lifetime. He hadn’t thought anyone here would know that.
Had she talked to his mother? Or his brother?
The thought stirred something uneasy in him. It felt almost like a bridge, one he hadn’t asked for, between him and the world he was so desperately trying to shut out.

Dabi stood up abruptly, only to sit back down again when a wave of dizziness hit him. His legs felt heavy and weak, and it was almost humiliating how hunger had started to take its toll. Still, he forced himself up again and moved slowly to the small sink in his bathroom, splashing cold water onto his face. The icy stream briefly helped shake off the sluggishness.

A deep, dull hunger ached in his gut, but even that wasn’t enough to shake the numbing distrust that had taken root inside him. Only the thought of the cold food waiting at his door reminded him that days had passed without him truly eating.

Without looking into the mirror, he left the bathroom and found himself standing in front of the window. Pressing his forehead against the cool glass, he watched how the trees outside had already turned orange and yellow.

Dabi couldn’t say for sure what day it was. He only knew that his transfer to this clinic had been scheduled for late September - maybe it was already October by now.
The only indication of time in his room was a small digital clock sitting on the wooden nightstand beside his bed.

The days were slowly starting to get cooler now, the sun would begin to set earlier, maybe his sleep would stretch a little longer. He stared out the window, unmoving, not at anything in particular, just frozen in the moment. Only his hunger kept trying, again and again, to pull him back into reality.
A glance at the clock. Just before 6.

His thoughts circled like a mantra: I’m not going.
Spending the whole day inside this tiny four-walled world and ignoring everything else didn’t bother him. But the memory of the soba noodles wouldn’t let him go. He couldn’t remember the last time he had eaten his favorite dish. A mixture of hunger and frustration stirred inside him.

He ran a hand through his white hair, walked over to the wooden wardrobe, and grabbed the first sweater he could find. Just tonight, he told himself, as if trying to soothe his own thoughts. Just to silence the hunger.

He stepped out into the hallway and paused, listening for every little sound, his turquoise eyes sharp and alert like an animal sensing danger. A creeping unease climbed up his spine, as if every shadow along the walls could be a secret watcher. In his mind flared the thought that someone could grab him at any moment, drag him back, or simply block his way.

Slowly, with narrowed eyes and a serious expression, he began to move, keeping close to the wall, his hands buried deep in the pockets of his dark blue hoodie. The fabric felt soft, and a faint scent rose to his nose. A smell he didn’t want to remember, but recognized instantly. It was the scent of home, or rather, the scent he most associated with his mother. Undoubtedly, a piece of clothing she had brought him.

For a brief moment, he saw her eyes in his mind, saw the tired, scarred face of his mother. He felt the sharp sting inside his chest that took his breath away and left behind a kind of numb resignation. A flicker of memory that almost held him in place, until the ping of the elevator pulled him back to the present. Without further thought, he slipped inside, relieved when the doors closed softly behind him, enclosing him in the quiet of that small space.

But he didn’t let his guard down, the elevator’s cameras were watching him. He pulled the hood over his head. It wouldn’t really hide him, but it gave him a sliver of comfort.

With half-lidded eyes, he scanned the small plaques on the elevator wall listing the floors and their functions. His eyes followed the list, and finally landed on the word Conservatory. As he selected the floor, he caught a glimpse of his own reflection in the shiny metal of the elevator wall, but it was only a blurry, fleeting glance.

At the next ping, the elevator doors opened, and he stepped out with quick, deliberate strides, his gaze fixed straight ahead. The reception area came into view, but he avoided all eye contact, feeling the weight of the keycard in his pocket, a strange sensation of both freedom and imprisonment. No one stopped him, no one cast a suspicious glance his way, and that, more than anything, was unsettling. He felt like a shadow drifting through these endless, brightly lit corridors, each step carrying the weight of unease, because it all felt too easy.

Then his eyes caught a floor plan on the wall, a schematic layout of the entire building. Only now did he realize how much larger the facility truly was. Corridors, rooms, access points branching in every direction. And at the center, nestled into one corner of the diagram, the word Conservatory glowed.

With one last glance at the map, he set off again. His steps quickened, more purposeful now, though his eyes remained sharp and watchful. Not a sound left his lips, and each step was accompanied by the soft rustle of his sweater and the rhythmic thud of his heart, clinging slowly but surely to the thought of the soba bowl that might be waiting for him.

He stopped before the glass sliding doors of the conservatory and watched as they parted smoothly and silently, as if inviting him to enter. The room beyond was bathed in warm light, emanating from a fireplace in the far corner. His gaze was drawn to the tall windows that stretched from floor to ceiling, revealing a vast courtyard beyond, the same massive courtyard, surrounded by high walls, that he could see from his own window.

The conservatory was not what he had expected, far too cozy and homely for a place like this. Halloween decorations were scattered everywhere, orange pumpkins, little paper ghosts that looked handmade, and tiny fairy lights twinkling gently, casting a soft, comforting glow over the room.

Deep, low sofas were arranged in clusters, draped with blankets and cushions that seemed to beckon one to sink into them. But Dabi felt no desire to relax. That familiar distrust was already creeping back up inside him, the quiet whisper of his own inner resistance that stopped him from letting his guard down for even a second.

In the center of the room, she sat. The woman whose name he hadn’t remembered, or maybe hadn’t wanted to. She sat alone, chin tilted slightly down, a book open in her hands. But she didn’t seem to be reading it. Her eyes were lost in thought, gazing out the window as if into a world only she could see. Her back was turned to him, her shoulders still, as if she’d forgotten the passage of time altogether.

He stood at the threshold, unsure whether to say something to make his presence known. But the sharp sting inside him, the feeling of resentment and rejection he felt toward her, held him back. Why should he act cordial? Why give her even the smallest hint of satisfaction? She knew something about him, his favorite dish, his habits, and that alone was enough to stir his suspicions.

His gaze landed on the tray resting on one of the tables, a steaming bowl of soba, its aroma drifting faintly in the air, pushing his hunger to the surface. Without a word, without so much as another glance in her direction, he walked over to the sofa opposite hers, sat down, and reached for the bowl.

The soba smelled rich and familiar, and for a moment, his hunger surged almost uncontrollably. But instead of digging in, he watched her over the rim of the bowl. His expression remained serious, his eyes alert and laced with distrust as they settled on her.

She looked at him and raised one brow slightly. Juniper had somehow sensed he would come today. Still, she remained calm, making no fuss over the fact that he had actually shown up.

“If you're wondering,” she began quietly, not bothering to fully turn toward him, “there’s nothing poisoned. I can taste it first, if you’d prefer.” Her tone was light, as if she'd dealt with this before. There was a faint smile in her voice that only irritated him further.

He rolled his eyes and growled sarcastically, “Didn’t know babysitting was part of the job description now.” His voice dripped with venom.

But she didn’t bite. She let the insult slide off her, untouched. Instead, she lifted her gaze from her book and spoke with a calm fascination, as if she were addressing someone entirely different. “I read that traditional soba is often served in regions with hot springs. People there use water infused with special minerals, it deepens the flavor, gives the broth that earthy, intense richness.”

He raised an eyebrow slightly and glanced, reluctantly at the steaming bowl in front of him. The scent was almost hypnotic. She continued, her voice unusually soft in the stillness of the room, strangely soothing: “The noodles are made from buckwheat flour, so they’re gluten-free, and they have this naturally nutty taste. Some regions in Japan have their own variations of soba. I didn’t know this, but there are even rituals for eating it! Soba is something you’re supposed to savor slowly and with intention.”

As she spoke, he finally reached for the chopsticks, and almost against his will, he took the first bite. The salty broth and noodles slid down his throat, and a warmth spread through him, something like comfort, though he didn’t want to admit it. His hunger pressed him to keep eating, but his vigilance remained rigid and sharp, coiled around him like a second skin. He stole glances at her, watching every movement, but she seemed genuinely content just talking about soba. Calmly, almost casually, like it was just a normal conversation.

She looked at him briefly, then asked a simple question, like it was the most natural thing in the world: “Do you have a favorite type of soba?”

He looked up abruptly, cutting her off, his voice harsh: “What is this, really?” There was a thread of anger behind his words, low and simmering. “Are we seriously talking about noodles right now? Don’t you want to ask why I killed people, even though I’m from such a ‘nice family’? Isn’t that what you and your people really want to know?”

But instead of flinching, she met his gaze, her eyes steady, her expression calm. And yet there was a strange playfulness in the seriousness of her voice as she answered, “Well, if you do want to talk about it… I’m all ears.”

He scoffed, dismissing the thought with a snort. Of course he didn’t. She had to know that. This was all a farce, she wasn’t going to coax anything out of him. He didn’t want to talk. Not about himself. Not about his family. And especially not about the past.

She shook her head slightly and reopened her book, the pages rustling softly. Her face gave nothing away, no judgment, no impatience. Almost as if she was perfectly willing to let him stay frozen in his silence. He barely noticed as he reached for the bowl again, pulled by the same instinctive hunger, slipping back into the muted slurping of his soba.

The food was delicious, and he couldn't remember the last time he'd actually been allowed soba. A fleeting image surfaced of a Seven-Eleven, where he’d snatched a quick instant soba and eaten it fast in some dark alley.

He shoveled the soba into his mouth without a word, trying not to show how hungry he really was or how much he actually liked the taste. All the while, he kept watching Juniper out of the corner of his eye. She seemed entirely unimpressed by his presence, simply sitting there, radiating a kind of ease that felt almost provocative.

He threw out a biting remark, dry and laced with cynicism: “Weird choice, spending your free time with someone like me. Almost makes it seem like you’ve got a particular taste, huh?” A crooked smile tugged at his lips.

Without a beat of hesitation, she looked up at him, an amused glint in her eyes. “And what if I do? Maybe you’re just my challenge of the month.” She gave a small shrug and casually turned back to her book.

It threw him. The way she didn’t flinch, didn’t get annoyed. His guards were always tense, always defensive, ready to lash out the second he opened his mouth. But her? She let his words roll off her like water and came back with replies that sounded like she was enjoying this.

Slowly, she closed the book and casually crossed her legs. A small but unmistakable signal, he had her full attention now. “That was fun,” she said lightly, a playful smile touching her lips. “I’m already looking forward to tomorrow’s dinner.”

Dabi dropped his chopsticks next to the bowl with a loud clatter, clearly deliberate. “That’s it?” he asked, leaning back in his chair, arms crossed tightly across his chest, his gaze sharp and scrutinizing.

Juniper gestured with a satisfied expression to the now half-empty bowl. “Well, I did say I’d be waiting here with soba. But if you want, I can stay longer. Otherwise... same time tomorrow. New soba.”

He pulled a face, narrowing his eyes into slits, scoffing with disbelief. “Keep dreaming. I’m not coming tomorrow. Don’t think you can summon me here like some damn schoolboy.”

She raised an eyebrow, shrugging like his resistance barely registered. “Alright, then. The day after tomorrow.” Her voice was calm, unbothered and it got under his skin like nothing else.

His head snapped up, and without thinking, his temper burst loose. “You’re completely insane!” His voice echoed through the winter garden, sharp and charged with all the contempt he could muster. “What the hell is wrong with you? Are you sick in the head?”

To his horror, she broke into a relaxed, almost triumphant smile, her eyes lighting up for a moment. She leaned back, her arms resting easily at her sides, head tilted in a way that felt just a little too pleased.

“Well,” she said, her tone mock-sweet, “I am the head of this clinic. If anyone gets the right to be crazy around here, it’s me. Queen of the lunatics, if you like.”

With a short, half-playful wave, she rose to her feet and turned without waiting for a response, walking off like she'd just won a game he hadn’t even agreed to play.

He remained at the table, the soba half-eaten, boiling with irritation. She was gone, as if she'd just beaten him at something he'd never meant to lose and that thought stung more than anything she’d actually said.

Chapter Text

With the hoodie pulled deep over his head and his hands in his pockets, Dabi stepped out of his room.
He realized it was disturbingly easy to get in and out of everywhere. As if the clinic was a shopping mall.
Only the secured door he had stepped through on the first day seemed to be the portal out.

The evening before, he had used the time after the unusual dinner with the clinic director to get familiar with the building and the grounds.
It was an impressively large complex, with a spacious area for patient rooms and numerous therapy and common rooms.

Dabi had only thrown brief glances into the rooms to avoid drawing attention. To his surprise, there were hardly any areas not accessible to him.
Only the top floors of the elevator, as well as the basement levels, remained out of reach. At least with his chip card.
He suspected that’s where the control rooms were located, after all, the entire building was equipped with countless cameras.

No one had stood in his way that night. There was security staff who showed up from time to time, but they only briefly registered his presence before disappearing back into the hallways.

The other patients barely reacted to him either.
Dabi had even stared into some of their faces for a longer moment, almost provocatively, but most of them seemed withdrawn or too occupied with apparently meaningless activities like painting or crafting.

Craft therapy. Of course.
Dabi briefly curled his lips into a bitter smile.
Exactly what he had expected: a program for failed existences, making paper cranes while their lives completely fall apart.

He had also briefly seen someone tapping on a phone.
How that lucky bastard had gotten a mobile phone in this idiot high-security ward remained a mystery.
If the guards hadn’t been in the room, Dabi probably would’ve broken one of the rules they had explained to him in such detail on the first day.

He found himself again in front of the elevator.
'What would I have even done with a phone? Who would I have called?'
The thought was ridiculous.

The elevator doors opened, and Dabi stepped inside.
He pressed the button for the lobby.
His mission for today was clear: find out more about this woman.

She would regret letting him roam so freely.
He would be prepared the next time she put on her little show in the conservatory.

As expected, his reflection met him in the shiny surface of the elevator.
The cool, blue eyes stared back, and for a moment, he had the feeling his reflection was mocking him.
What am I even doing here?
His jaw tensed, and he turned his gaze away.

I don’t even want to be part of her little game in the conservatory.
The thought shot through his mind, but it felt hollow.
Dabi rolled his eyes, exhaled deeply, and let his shoulders hang a bit looser.
The cameras might be watching him, but at least no one could hear his thoughts.

With a soft ping, the elevator reached the lobby.
The doors slid open, and Dabi stepped into the open, pleasantly lit reception hall.
His gaze wandered briefly before he spotted a young woman at the front desk.
She was absorbed in a stack of documents, scribbling something down on a form with focused determination.

As Dabi came closer, she looked up, a faint smile on her lips.
“Good morning, Mr. Todoroki.”
Her voice was friendly, but not overly enthusiastic. A strange mix of businesslike and tired.

He didn’t say anything as he approached her.
He stopped a step away from the desk and observed her.

Hana gestured toward one of the lobby chairs.
“Take a seat. I was going to talk to you anyway.”
She skipped the polite honorific she had used so naturally just a moment before.

He raised an eyebrow but didn’t move, staying exactly where he was.

She grabbed one of the documents and gave it a quick glance.
“I just wanted to let you know you can schedule physio sessions if needed.
Your back seems to have taken some damage.”

Dabi frowned. For a moment, he wasn’t sure what she was talking about.
Then the memory flashed: the guards in Tartarus, the kicks to his back as he lay bound on the floor.
His fingers tensed slightly in the pockets of his hoodie, but he forced himself to keep up the façade of indifference.
“It’s nothing.”

Hana wasn’t fazed.
“Still, if you’re in pain, you might want to consider it. Our physio is good, and movement helps more than you’d think.”

He shrugged and avoided her gaze.

For a moment, silence stretched between them as Hana flipped through her papers again.
Dabi used the opportunity to study her.
She seemed incredibly… normal.
As if he weren’t a dangerous criminal, but just some random patient in a rehab clinic.
The way she spoke, the way she moved.
Nothing about her reminded him of the guards who had handled him in Tartarus.

“Is everyone here on drugs, or why are they all like this?” he finally asked half mocking, half genuinely curious.

Hana chuckled softly and raised an eyebrow.
“It’s just a normal weekday. Or what exactly are you getting at?”
She didn’t seem even remotely surprised or offended by his comment.

Dabi stared at her for a moment before turning his gaze away again.
“Hm.”

Then he decided to bring up the actual reason for his little excursion or at least try.
“That woman from yesterday…”

He didn’t finish the sentence, hoping the desk girl would figure out who he meant.

Hana looked up from her papers, slightly puzzled, and seemed to consider for a moment whether or not to take his question seriously.
Finally, she adjusted her glasses and said,
“You probably mean Juniper. Our director. Dr. Inomori Juniper.”

Juniper, he thought.
The name sounded strangely foreign, only the last name was Japanese.

“Is she always like that?”

Hana nodded and leaned forward slightly, as if to share a secret.
“She’s actually the best at it.”

Dabi clicked his tongue in annoyance and looked around the lobby until he realized he’d already studied the room enough.
He shifted his gaze to the window instead, staring out at the wide inner courtyard as his thoughts began to wander.
Juniper Inomori.
At least now he had a name.
Crazy asylum director and self-proclaimed queen of the Lunatics.

“Well,” he murmured eventually, “Thanks for the info, doll.”

Hana watched him from the corner of her glasses. “Don’t forget about physio, alright?”

Dabi didn’t pay her any more attention as he moved on with his mission, ignoring the rest of her words trailing after him.
His mind was already occupied with other plans.

He strolled down the clinic’s corridors without much of a destination, hands buried deep in the pockets of his hoodie, on the lookout for opportunities.
The sterile atmosphere made him slightly uneasy; the friendly sunlight and the busy bustle around him didn’t do anything to lift his mood.
He needed to find out more about this Juniper.

His thoughts drifted back to the night before, to Juniper, and her strangely mundane conversation about soba.
What even was that? he asked himself.
Soba? Seriously?
She had looked at him like he was just some ordinary guy, not someone who left behind charred corpses wherever he went.
She had to be trying to draw something out of him.
Why else would he be in a place like this? he thought bitterly.
They wanted to tear his mind apart, unlock every sealed chamber, know everything:
What had made him a killer, why he was the way he was.
And yet, she had talked about soba. As if that mattered at all.
What’s her game?

Some patients were sitting in one of the communal rooms, lost in meaningless activities.
Painting, he thought to himself.

Dabi came to a sudden stop, his gaze landing on a younger man with messy hair who was looking at a newspaper.
Without much thought, Dabi marched straight over, grabbed him by the collar, and pulled him, firmly but without violence, into a quiet corner of the room.

“Hey! What the hell?” The patient sounded more surprised than scared, throwing his hands up in the air to show he didn’t want to fight.

Dabi leaned in a little closer, his stare sharp and cutting.
“Just want to talk. Don’t freak out.”

The man blinked at him, still confused.
“Okay... talk. But you don’t have to hold me.”

He could feel the cameras above them blinking.
He didn’t need to look up to know that every move was being watched.
He could feel the guards in some surveillance room, sitting in front of monitors, assessing the situation.

A quick glance to the side confirmed it: one of the cameras had shifted slightly, as if it had zoomed in on him specifically.
The red light of the recording indicator felt like it was mocking him.
A silent reminder that he would never truly be alone here.

Dabi twisted his mouth into a condescending grin.
Let them watch.
He wasn’t breaking any rules. Not yet.
But the thought of being so obviously monitored made his blood boil.
It reminded him too much of Tartarus, gagged and bound in the center of a room, cameras circling around him.

He looked briefly into the lens, then back to his conversation partner.
A silent message: You can watch me, but you won’t stop me.

Dabi slowly let go of him, but didn’t step back.
“Juniper. What’s her Quirk?”

The man furrowed his brow, eyes widening slightly as he got a better look at Dabi.
Then suddenly, he relaxed, like he’d just had a revelation.

“Wait a second… I know you! You’re Dabi, right? Todoroki Touya! From the news! I saw your fight with Endeavor back then!”

Dabi’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t respond to that.
“Don’t care what you saw. I asked you a question. What’s Dr. Inomori’s Quirk?”

The man tilted his head, like he was trying to figure out if Dabi was serious.
“Dr. Inomori’s Quirk? She doesn’t have one.”

Dabi stared at him, unable to process what he’d just heard.
“What?”

“She’s Quirkless,” the patient said with a shrug.
“She said so herself. Believe me, I asked her when I first got here.
Anyone here could tell you the same.”

For a moment, Dabi said nothing, his thoughts racing.
Quirkless?
And she was running a place like this?
A clinic that held someone like him, one of the country’s most dangerous criminals?

“This has to be a joke,” he muttered, more to himself than to the man.

The patient raised his hands in a placating gesture.
“Hey, I’m just telling you what I know.
Maybe you should ask her yourself.”

Dabi scoffed dismissively, turned away, and left the man standing there.
As he walked back out into the hallway, his anger started to mingle with confusion.
How could someone without a Quirk hold so much control in a world like this?
And why did she have that strange, unshakable self-confidence?

His gaze darkened as he noticed another camera above him.
Juniper had to be hiding more than she let on.
And Dabi would find out what it was.

Footsteps behind him, then suddenly, a heavy hand clamped down on his shoulder before he even consciously registered it.
The pressure made him stop, and he turned around slowly.
What he saw made his shoulders instinctively tense.

In front of him stood a man with a grin so wide it bordered on threatening, like he was in the middle of telling a bad joke that just wouldn't end.
The guy was huge, muscle-packed, with a build that reminded Dabi of some weird hybrid between a human and a dinosaur.

“Well, look who it is! Our VIP,” the man said, finally sliding his hand off Dabi’s shoulder after a moment.
Before Dabi could even respond, he continued,
“Takahashi Reno. Nice to finally see you in the flesh!”

Dabi shot him a frosty glare, his body language turning defensive.
A guard?
But Reno wasn’t wearing one of the usual purple uniforms the clinic guards had on.
No weapons. No serious expression.
The guy looked like he’d walked straight out of a gym and into the clinic.

“Hana-chan just told me you’re ready for a little treatment. I’m the physiotherapist,” Reno said, unfazed by Dabi’s silence.
He made a casual hand motion, mimicking a massage grip.
His voice was loud and energetic, a stark contrast to Dabi’s cold indifference.

“Figured I’d come right to you. I know how hard it can be to find your way around this place.”
He let out a soft laugh, one that might have been contagious under different circumstances.
But Dabi remained thoroughly unimpressed.

Reno gestured with his thumb over his shoulder, pointing toward a hallway.
“My room’s just down there. And since I figured you probably don’t have anything better to do, I thought; why not?
Get a massage, do a few exercises, your back’ll thank you!”

Dabi eyed him blankly.
For a moment, he considered just walking away.
But something held him back.
Maybe it was the possibility that this Reno guy knew more and his talkative nature was an easy way to dig out information.

Without a word, he followed Reno, who walked ahead cheerfully, his steps light and unaffected by Dabi’s silence.
From the corner of his eye, Dabi studied him more closely.
The muscular physique was impressive, no doubt.
But it was the tail, thick and scaly, shaped like something from a dinosaur. that gave Reno a surreal, almost absurd appearance.

A physiotherapist? Dabi thought dryly.
He looks more like he trains nonstop than treats other people.

Reno stopped at a door, pulled out a key card, and held it to the scanner.
With a mechanical click, the door opened, and Reno stepped aside, gesturing for Dabi to go in first.
Dabi gave him a brief, wary look before stepping inside.

The room, like most in the clinic, was filled with light and utterly sterile.
The walls were lined with various training equipment, from dumbbells to a high-tech treadmill.
In the center stood a massage table, perfectly clean and untouched, like it had never been used before.

“Here we are!” Reno closed the door behind them and turned to Dabi.
“So, what’ll it be? Strengthen the back muscles? Or just relax?
I mean, you’re here because Hana said you’ve got a little back injury, right?”

Dabi scoffed under his breath, a hint of contempt in his expression.
“Just a loving kick to the back, that’s all.”

Reno clapped his hands, like that settled it.
“Perfect! Then let’s get started. I’ll get you back in shape, no worries.
Go ahead and have a seat.”

Dabi ignored the invitation and stayed standing, hands still buried deep in his pockets.

“What exactly do you know about the people working here?” he asked finally, cool and matter-of-fact.

Reno blinked, slightly surprised by the question.
Then he grinned again.
“Ah, quite a bit, actually. I am one of them, after all.
Why do you ask?”

“Just curious,” Dabi said curtly.
His tone left no room for small talk.

But Reno didn’t seem bothered by that.
He just shrugged.
“Most of ’em are alright. Good people.
You thinking of someone specific?”

Dabi stared at him, letting the silence speak for itself.
Reno laughed again, this time a bit more quietly.
“No idea what you’re getting at, but most newcomers ask the same questions.
If it makes you happy, I’ll give you the usual answers.
Now get on the table before you mess up your posture so bad even I can’t fix it.”

Reluctantly, Dabi sank onto the massage table, his movements hesitant but controlled.
Reno stepped behind him, rubbing his hands together to warm them up.
Dabi closed his eyes, but his mind kept racing.

Reno moved to Dabi’s side and let his strong hands glide over his back.
His motions were precise, almost methodical, as if he were reading Dabi’s body like a map.
“Hm,” Reno grunted after a while, his fingers finding a spot in Dabi’s lower back, just above the hip.

“There’s something there. Feels like a minor lumbago. Probably from that kick you took.”
His voice was calm, almost casual, as he started working on the area.
“Take a deep breath. This is gonna feel a little unpleasant.”

Dabi let the words pass over him without reaction, staring instead at the wall, as clinically white and sterile as the rest of the room.
Reno continued, applying focused, firm pressure before loosening the tension with skilled hands.

“There. You feel that? It’s starting to release. No wonder that was bothering you.
The muscles down here were totally locked up.”

For a while, only the muffled sounds of Reno’s hands at work filled the room.
Eventually, Reno lifted his head and asked, seemingly out of nowhere,
“Had a look around yet?”

Dabi didn’t answer right away.
He let his eyes crack open, just enough to distract himself from the insistent pressure on his back.
“Maybe,” he murmured at last.

Reno gave a satisfied hum and kept talking as if Dabi were an old friend rather than a guarded stranger.

“You’re actually allowed to roam around, y’know? The garden’s open to you too.
Really nice place, especially in the afternoon. Super quiet.
If you’re up for some movement, the gym’s in the basement.
Not huge, but it gets the job done.”
Reno looked down at him:
“Eating more and working out could do you some good. We could train together.”

Dabi stayed silent, but he begrudgingly noticed how the massage was actually working through an uncomfortable knot in his back.

“And if you ever wanna relax, there’s the in-house onsen down there too.
Trust me, nothing better after one of my sessions than soaking in the hot bath.”

Reno chuckled at his own words, but Dabi remained silent.
His thoughts drifted, even as Reno kept massaging.
It was strange, this freedom. Too strange.
In Tartarus, every minute of his life had been under surveillance. Every movement, regulated.
And now he was wandering around freely, getting massages, eating his favorite food, as if this place were some damn wellness retreat.

Reno kept at it, cheerful as ever.
“Hana, the cute one you saw earlier?
She’s not just at the front desk, she’s Dr. I’s right hand,” he said while working his way down Dabi’s spine.
“But let me tell you: not date material.
That woman’s got enough paperwork to drown in.
She doesn’t need patients hitting on her.”

A short sideways glance from Dabi was all it took, but Reno wasn’t fazed.
He clearly enjoyed his own sense of humor and just kept going.

“And Juniper...”
He paused briefly as he checked Dabi’s muscles again.

“She’s our boss. And if you haven’t heard, no Quirk.
That usually blows people’s minds when they first find out. Did mine, too.
But you’ll see real quick: she doesn’t need one.
That woman’s intense.”

Dabi straightened slightly, his interest piqued.
“No Quirk?” he asked, feigning ignorance, voice low with a hint of disbelief.

The physiotherapist nodded, standing upright and reaching for a red resistance band from a shelf.
“Yup. No Quirk. She’s strict, no doubt, but people actually like her. Even the patients.
Some of us owe her a lot.”

Dabi let the words sink in.
It didn’t add up.
How could someone like her, quirkless, small, and a woman, be running a clinic like this?
Especially with him as a patient, one of the most dangerous criminals in the country.
It made no sense.

And yet...
Her behavior the night before had rattled him.

“Last night she talked to me about soba noodles,” Dabi said eventually, voice flat but tinged with suspicion and irritation.

Reno burst into loud laughter, his broad chest shaking.
“Noodles?” he snorted.
“Hana-chan says Dr. I has crazy general knowledge.
Apparently, she reads anything she can get her hands on. Books, reports, old newspapers, you name it.”

Arms crossed, eyes lowered, Dabi stared at the floor while Reno’s words echoed in his mind.
He was certain Juniper wasn’t as harmless as Reno made her out to be.
No one running a place like this could be.
And no one who accepted him as a patient was ever truly on his side.

As Reno stood up and rubbed his hands together, an excited grin spread across his face.
"Now it's my turn." His eyes sparkled with enthusiasm, and he clapped his hands energetically.
"You can’t imagine how psyched I was when I heard you were moving in here!"

A frown formed on Dabi’s face, but Reno didn’t give him time to respond.
"Seriously, I’m a fan, man! Back then, you were my idol." He was lost in memories.
"Sure, Spinner was cool too, but you were badass! A walking flamethrower!"

The excitement was unmistakable, but Reno’s words left no room for misinterpretation, they were full of admiration.
"You guys really got things rolling back then," he added briefly.

Dabi didn’t reply, his gaze remained fixed, but his jaw clenched continuously.
Reno was a sincere person, more real than many others out there. Too friendly, too easygoing, intrusive in his way.

With a double tap on Dabi’s shoulder, Reno signaled he was done and continued speaking as if he were chatting with a friend.
"Alright, cool, you’re good for today. But before you go: I’ll show you a couple of exercises you can do."

Dabi gave a slight nod, but his expression remained thoughtful. Reno didn’t seem to notice and had already begun demonstrating a few simple stretching exercises.
But Dabi’s thoughts were elsewhere. Juniper was a mystery, and he hated mysteries.

"Okay, that’s it for today." Reno loosened his fingers while placing the resistance band back in its place.
"I’ve got another appointment now and have to kick you out. But hey, I’m already looking forward to seeing you again. We could totally hit the gym together."

With a wide grin, Reno walked to the door and held it open, as inviting as a host.
Dabi only gave him a fleeting glance, lips pressed into a thin line, and stood up slowly.
His movements were cool and controlled, though slightly less mechanical after the massage. Without another word, he stepped out of the room while Reno called after him, "See you soon, man!" just before the door clicked shut.

On his way back through the hallways, the day’s events echoed in his mind.
The encounter with Hana, who was apparently more than just a receptionist, and loud, almost childishly enthusiastic Reno, who didn’t seem to fear him at all.
Even the curly-haired guy flashed briefly in his mind, he seemed just as relaxed as everyone else here. He played a role in Dabi’s thoughts as well.

It all felt like some strange, surreal theater performance, and he was the unwilling protagonist who didn’t fit into the script.
Everything here was... odd. People didn’t meet him with the usual mix of fear, distrust, or hatred he was used to.
Instead, they treated him like an ordinary patient, as if he wasn’t the man whose name was feared nationwide.

As he walked through the corridors, his thoughts inevitably returned to Juniper.
Quirkless, strict, respected by everyone, and without a doubt, she had taken the time last night to find out something about him through that conversation.
He knew people like her well enough, she looked like someone with a bigger plan. The chat about mundane things was a method to make things feel more friendly between them.
They had brought him here to dissect his mind, that much was obvious. This clinic was a farce, they wanted to get into his head, to uncover what hadn’t yet been said, perhaps to negotiate the death penalty after all.

A low growl escaped his throat as he reached the door to his room. The thoughts of the clinic, the patients, and the staff gnawed at him.
Everything here felt wrong. But even stranger was the fact that they just let him be. There were no guards trailing his every step, no strict rules restricting his movement.
They treated him almost as if he still deserved some form of freedom.

As he closed the door behind him, his gaze swept across the room. Everything was in its place, untouched. Only the twisted blanket on his bed greeted him.
The darkness of the approaching evening crept in through the windows, and for a moment, he stood motionless, listening to the quiet emptiness surrounding him.

He thought of the conservatory, of the promised dinner with Juniper.
For a moment, he considered going there. Maybe he could find out more about her.
Maybe even catch a glimpse behind that perfect façade she so carefully maintained. But as the minutes passed, he decided against it.

The day had already drained him enough.

Too many conversations,
too many impressions.

The thought of getting into another situation with people he didn’t trust was exhausting. And her game could wait.

With a short sigh, he let himself fall onto the bed, resting his head against the pillow. Tonight, he would eat here. Alone.
The conservatory and Juniper could wait.

Chapter Text

The afternoon sun slanted through the tall windows of Juniper’s office, bathing the room in a muted, golden warmth. Between the mahogany shelves lined with academic books and the carefully tended houseplants perched among them, two women sat in focused silence.

Hana, with a thick stack of files on her lap, sat perfectly upright in the chair opposite the desk, while Juniper leaned back in her leather office chair. Two steaming cups of tea stood forgotten beside a neatly organized notepad.

“What’s next?” Juniper asked calmly, her voice a portrait of professionalism and patience.

Hana lifted a file from the stack and opened it with cautious precision. Her slender fingers skimmed over the pages, searching for the right place. The pressure in her head was mounting, and although she tried to conceal it, Juniper felt it instantly.

“Patient Room 118, Ito Masaru,” Hana began, her voice quiet and slightly faltering. “He’s... showing good progress. Individual therapy has slightly loosened his underlying paranoia. He’s beginning to take more responsibility for his actions. The therapist recommends gradually intensifying the confrontation therapy to promote... emotional insight.”

Juniper looked up, her brown eyes fixing on Hana for a moment. “Paranoia alone doesn’t explain his sadistic tendencies. This isn’t just about accountability, it’s about what led him to view his victims as objects in the first place. I have a bad feeling. Maybe it was too early to put him in group therapy. How’s he behaving there?”

Hana flipped quickly through her notes. “Uh... he was assigned to a new group last week. Initial adjustment difficulties, but... no escalations. The therapist does suspect, however, that he might already be manipulating the group dynamic to raise his profile.”

A quiet scoff escaped Juniper, but her expression remained unreadable. “Of course he is. Masaru is a master at undermining power structures. Note that I’ll be attending group sessions sporadically from now on to observe these dynamics myself. And schedule a case conference with the therapeutic team. If we don’t break through his self-performance, he’ll remain a ticking time bomb.”

Hana nodded quickly and scribbled into her notebook. Her glasses slipped slightly down her nose, but she didn’t dare pause to fix them.

“Next case,” Juniper said smoothly, taking a sip from her still-steaming tea.

“Patient Room 229, Miyazawa Kei.” Hana pulled the next file from the stack, though her fingers trembled slightly. “Individual therapy has... um... shown limited progress. He completed two sessions without incidents, but in the last session, he went silent again when the topic shifted toward his deceased partner. The therapist suspects he’s still vehemently rejecting his past. They also wrote: There’s a complete lack of willingness to reflect or participate.”

“He was in the army too long,” Juniper remarked dryly, without a hint of surprise. “Someone who spends years surrounded by violence and death often loses the capacity to hold onto loving memories. People like him can no longer distinguish between safety and threat.”

She paused, folding her arms across her chest, still balancing her teacup effortlessly. “What did the therapist expect? That this kind of trauma resolves in a few sessions?”

Hana spoke slowly. “Maybe they just meant there’s barely any progress and...”

“That’s irrelevant.” Juniper cut her off, her tone still calm but decidedly final. “Miyazawa is analytical and strategic. Give him tasks where he can use those strengths to his advantage, and lure him out of his shell that way. Put the art therapy on hold for now and switch to problem-solving exercises. And Hana, who’s the assigned therapist?”

“Dr. Johnson.” Hana glanced up cautiously from her notes to watch Juniper’s reaction, ready to retreat at the slightest sign of tension.

“Of course. Who else.” Juniper set her teacup aside with an unnecessarily precise motion and rubbed the bridge of her nose in annoyance. “Make sure Dr. Johnson starts receiving job postings from Tokyo. Repeatedly. Subtly. I really have no patience left for people from my father’s network. And honestly, the man would much rather work in the capital than get his hands dirty out here in the countryside.”

Hana nodded quickly, jotting down every instruction feverishly. Her fingers clutched the pen like a lifeline. “Should I also... request another specialist?”

Juniper leaned back, folding her arms with a thoughtful expression. “Yes. Get in touch with Dr. Nakamura. She’s one of the few who specializes in severe PTSD cases and doesn’t make the mistake of constantly pushing patients into emotional withdrawal. We need someone who not only understands what Miyazawa has been through, but also how to help him navigate the present.”

Hana scribbled down the name, then looked up again with hesitant curiosity. “What approach should we suggest, specifically? I mean... if he shuts down this hard?”

Juniper nodded slightly, interrupting her. “Dr. Nakamura will know what to do, but I want her to use a standardized PTSD protocol. Something like CPT, Cognitive Processing Therapy. Are you familiar with it?”

Hana gave a small shake of her head. She knew the term from her textbooks, but hadn’t applied it herself yet and she wanted to understand Juniper’s approach more than anything.

Juniper explained in a factual but not condescending tone, “CPT helps patients put their trauma into words and recognize the distorted thought patterns that have taken root because of it. Miyazawa doesn’t need triggers that pull him back into the past—he needs clear structures to help him reorganize his thinking. Dr. Johnson, on the other hand, seems to believe silence equals progress.”

A trace of cynicism crept into her voice before she continued. “If we keep reducing Miyazawa to what he’s lost, we’re creating an environment where he can settle into feeling like a victim. And victims tend to turn their anger and frustration outward eventually. What he needs is the tools to reflect on himself, not just sympathy or understanding.”

Hana nodded, this time more firmly, and continued writing. “I’ll take care of it and contact Dr. Nakamura. Should I inform Johnson directly, or...?”

“No,” Juniper interrupted with a sharp smile. “Leave that to me. I think it’s time we made it very clear to Dr. Johnson just how... dispensable he is.”

Juniper turned in her chair, letting her gaze drift to the window, where the gardener was neatly raking autumn leaves into little piles. There was a calm grace to the movement of the falling leaves, but she couldn’t let herself be drawn into it. Her thoughts inevitably returned to her father, whose influence stretched over the clinic like an invisible shadow.

It was never overt, never direct, hat wasn’t his style. Instead, he sent people like Dr. Johnson: incompetent but loyal, placed to supervise, evaluate, and sabotage if necessary. A constant reminder that he still held power over her, even here, in the clinic she had painstakingly built for herself.

The subtle hints, the reports, the unannounced visits, it was all designed to keep her under control. Her father had never understood that her work wasn’t some playground for his power games. She had no interest in meeting his expectations or earning his approval. But his constant interference was like a stone in her shoe: not big enough to trip her, but always present, always irritating.

“And lastly, our VIP.” The next file landed on the desk. “Room 415. Todoroki Touya.” It was a slim file, with barely any paperwork.

Juniper straightened her chair again and unfolded her arms.

Hana hesitated noticeably before opening the folder. “He... um... hasn’t participated in any activities so far. No reports of escalation either, but he remains... distant. No attendance in individual or group therapy sessions, no conversations with his assigned therapist outside of required interactions. However, the physiotherapist has noted that he’s been more active in the gym.”

Juniper raised an eyebrow, her fingers drumming softly on the desk as she settled more comfortably into her chair. “Takahashi?” She chuckled and looked up at the ceiling. “Well, I wasn’t expecting that.”

Hana flipped through the papers. “They always end up in the gym eventually,” she murmured, as if it were an inevitable law of the clinic.

The leather chair creaked slightly as Juniper laughed again. “No, I mean the fact that those two noticed each other.”

She nodded, continuing with a hint of amusement in her voice. “Takahashi says Todoroki-san is in decent physical condition: a bit underweight, but apparently, and I quote, ‘he’s itching to move.’”

The two women exchanged amused glances. A brief, curious smile crossed Hana’s face before she asked, her voice low and inquisitive, “And? How’s it going with him?”

Juniper sighed softly, letting her thoughts drift back over the past few days with him. “I’ve managed to catch him at dinner three times so far.”

A self-satisfied smirk played across Juniper’s lips as she looked at Hana with a challenging gleam in her eyes. “Unlike our colleagues, I don’t find him that distant.”

Hana stirred the steaming tea in her cup, then brought the spoon to her lips to taste the last bit of honey. “And how do you plan to proceed?”

“Casual,” Juniper replied briefly, her tone leaving no room for doubt about her strategy.

There was a soft clink as Hana’s spoon tapped against her teeth. She’d stopped stirring and was now absentmindedly chewing on the stainless steel while just staring at her superior.

“From the files and everything I’ve heard about him, a clear pattern emerges: Dabi spends his days in a state of lethargy, barely seeks out any contact at all.” Juniper leaned forward slightly, the documents she’d studied weeks ago flashing through her mind. “Before I can even begin to work with him, he needs to become more of himself again. Any emotion is welcome – even anger, if that’s what it takes.”

Hana slowly removed the spoon from her mouth and placed it on the table, along with the cup and her notes. She knew this case required finesse, that Juniper couldn’t just apply her usual methods. But that she intended to approach it this way still surprised her. “Define ‘casual’ for me.”

Juniper’s chair creaked softly as she settled into a more comfortable position. “I talk to him the way I’d talk to you in private.”

She reached for the fruit bowl on the table, picked up a mandarin, and began peeling it carefully. “His villain days are years behind him. Since then, he’s kept an impressively low profile. If there were any incidents, it was probably because he acted like a rebellious teenager toward the guards. Or more accurately, toward the prison director.”

She placed one half of the mandarin in front of Hana and began eating the other half, piece by piece. The sweet-tart taste mingled with thoughts that had been swirling in her head for days.

“Think about it,” she said thoughtfully. “He was really young when he went off the rails. Vulnerable, confused, angry – and completely alone with emotions and memories that were far too heavy for him. Now he’s an adult, and most of that anger has left him. But the negativity, that’s still there. And he never learned how to deal with it.”

Hana listened closely. “But doesn’t that apply to a lot of people here?”

“Yes and no.” Juniper took the last piece of her mandarin and chewed slowly, collecting her thoughts. “He was a completely traumatized child, then he fell into a coma and woke up in the body of a young adult. Then he became Dabi, lived on the streets. And he’s spent a lot of time in prison, in solitary, in isolation, which by now makes up almost a third of his life.”

She gestured casually toward the mandarin she’d prepared for Hana. “Eat.”

Hana obeyed the subtle order, accepting the fruit gratefully. She peeled off a piece, popped it into her mouth, and began to speak. “You mean… he might be at a point where he actually wants to change?”

“Bingo.” Juniper leaned back a bit, watching her assistant eat the fruit piece by piece with quiet satisfaction. “I think he needs new stimuli. Something to show him there’s more to life than pain, than stagnation, than the emptiness he’s imposed on himself for years. Maybe something simple. Maybe just the chance to test what life still has to offer.”

Hana nodded slowly, chewing thoughtfully. “Okay. So you talk to him like a normal person?”

Juniper took a deep breath before answering. “Because at the end of the day, we’re all human. And every human being wants to be seen and understood.”

Her gaze dropped to the table, her fingers gliding gently across the fine wood grain. “He spent the first third of his life suffering, feeling like he was never enough. The second third was shaped by hatred and emptiness. And the last one so far…” She narrowed her eyes slightly. “He spent that like a caged animal in Tartarus.”

A trace of bitterness crept into her voice. She had read the reports. She knew what had been done to him.

“I don’t want to play the therapist,” she continued. “I didn’t want to months ago when I fought for him to be admitted. No, I want to meet him as a person. I want to give him the chance to respond, not as someone backed into a corner, but as someone who might, deep down, be waiting for the opportunity to unfold.”

A shadow passed over Hana’s face. Worry flickered in her eyes. “But how can you know all that? How can you be so sure?”

Juniper held her gaze. “I just know.” Her voice left no room for doubt.

Hana swallowed the question that hovered on her tongue. Instead, she nodded slowly, already taking mental notes for her report. Then something occurred to her, and she looked up again to meet her superior’s eyes.

“I mean, you also worked with Mrs. Todoroki. That must give you a broader picture.”

For a moment, Juniper remained silent. Rei Todoroki… She remembered their sessions. Her calm voice, the thoughtful way she spoke about her children, as if she weighed every moment of the past carefully before letting it slip.

Hana seemed to recall something too. Her forehead smoothed as her gaze briefly drifted to the side. “Oh, right! Speaking of which, she wanted to stop by in a week. She’s really looking forward to it.” A smile played on her lips as she settled more comfortably in her chair. “And she referred me to the interior designer as well. I’m telling you, Juniper! You may have given your approval, but once you see what they’re planning, you’ll be speechless.”

Juniper raised an eyebrow and smirked. “Sounds like fun.” She leaned forward and quietly opened one of her desk drawers to pull out a document. “But honestly, I expected something extravagant the moment I agreed to house the eldest son of the famous Todoroki family.”

She flipped through the papers, a thoughtful expression settling on her face.

“I’m just wondering whether I should brief Rei Todoroki again… before she tells her son everything about me.”

Chapter Text

The room just felt warm.
Not just because of the quietly humming heater, but also because of the muted colors, the low furniture, and the soft light sources that gently pushed the shadows out of the corners. A calm, almost unobtrusive atmosphere, like one you’d expect in a living room.
But to him, the thought of a place that played at being home just felt alien.

Touya sat on the dark leather sofa, his body loose but not relaxed. His arm rested on the armrest, fingers barely pressed against the cool material, while his gaze lingered half-heartedly on the window across the room. It showed nothing but a narrow strip of sky that, despite the security glass, looked crystal clear.
He didn’t know why they had set the room up like this. Maybe it was standard for visits, maybe because he was the good-for-nothing son from a respectable household.

The cushions beneath him barely gave in, and yet he had the feeling he was sinking into them too deeply. Too soft for him. Too unfamiliar.
Dr. Inomori had told him it would be a pleasant place, but if it were up to him, he wouldn’t have cared. What difference did it really make?
The comfort was probably supposed to be a message.

His mother sat across from him at a low wooden table with a steaming cup of tea in front of her. She had her hands wrapped around the ceramic, as if she were grateful for the warmth. Her posture was upright, but not stiff. Her movements slow, deliberate. Her mere presence changed the air in the room in a way that was hard to describe, not uncomfortable, not oppressive,
just different.

She didn’t study him obviously, but her gaze lingered on him, again and again, gently and carefully, like a touch you weren’t supposed to feel.
Just there.

Dabi didn’t know what to make of it.
He knew she would come. It hadn’t surprised him, hadn’t made him feel like he had to endure anything or prepare for something.
And yet it felt like he was sitting in someone else’s body, in a room that didn’t belong to him, with a woman who was his mother but felt as far away as the sky behind the glass.

The silence between them wasn’t agonizing. Rei wasn’t the kind of person who forced a conversation to keep going.
She had always carried a strange kind of calm with her, a silence that was neither cold nor empty, but simply existed, like the gentle rippling on the surface of a still lake.

Touya remembered that silence. The way she used to sit at the table with them, even when the rest of the family was talking. The evenings where she’d sit on the couch with her eyes closed, just breathing, as if she wanted to hold on to the moment.

It was strange to feel that again.

She had visited him as often as she could in Tartarus, and through all that time, he hadn’t changed, at least not in any way that would have made conversation with her any easier.
He never knew what to say.
Words never seemed to be the right ones, never came out the way he wanted them to. And when they did, they sounded wrong, harsh, or unspoken. As if they’d lost their meaning somewhere between his brain and his tongue.

His mother was good at enduring that.
Too many Todoroki men endured.

She took a quiet sip of tea. Her hands were slender, the knuckles lightly defined under the skin. Her hair was a little longer than last time, straight, truly silver in the light.
Touya watched her from the corner of his eye, but without any real intent to see anything.

“They made this room nice,” she said finally. Her voice was quiet, but not fragile.

Dabi raised one eyebrow slightly but said nothing.
She set the cup down. Her fingers lingered on the ceramic for another moment before they let go.

He didn’t know whether she actually expected a reaction from him.
Maybe it was just an observation. Maybe not.

Outside, the light changed a little, turned cooler. Probably clouds moving in.
Dabi exhaled.
It wasn’t nervousness that filled him, but it wasn’t calm either. Just that hovering state, somewhere between expectation and resignation.

The minutes stretched.
It was strange that he didn’t feel any urge to hurry. No impatience.
Normally, he was the one to cut conversations short, either by shutting them down or walking away. But here... here there was nothing to walk away from.
Nothing to really resist.

His mother was just there.
The way she had always been, even in her absence.
And that, perhaps, was the hardest part about this whole visit.

Rei looked at him with a softness that wasn’t intrusive.
No expectation, no hesitation, just that quiet, steady presence that had sometimes thrown him off balance even as a child.
She had never spoken much, but when she did, her words were rarely unnecessary.

She brushed her fingertips along the rim of her teacup, as if she could hold on to the smooth ceramic, then lifted her gaze back to him.
"Are they treating you well here?"

Dabi let the question linger in the room for a moment.
It didn’t sound like a mother being overprotective, not like someone who had once wished for a perfect world for him. More like someone who had lived with pain long enough to know that life didn’t offer perfect places, only better or worse ones.

He leaned back slightly, keeping his arm resting on the sofa's armrest. His fingers were still. No tension, no restlessness.
"Better than before."

Rei exhaled quietly. Not surprised, slightly relieved. A little like she had been holding her breath for a moment.
"That’s good," she said eventually.

Touya gave a barely noticeable shrug.
She looked at him for a moment, as if considering whether she should respond to that. Then she tilted her head gently to the side.
"It’s good, if that’s how you feel."

He scoffed softly, but not derisively. No mockery, no impatience, just a dry acknowledgment that she hadn’t changed in her way of speaking.

"It’s okay here."
It wasn’t high praise, but it also wasn’t the dismissive "I don’t care" he would have said in the past.

Rei studied him for a moment, as if she had heard exactly that difference.

"Dr. Inomori seems like a good director," she said carefully.

Dabi turned his head slightly to the side, staring at the strip of window with a hint of annoyance. He just nodded.
He definitely didn’t want to add anything when it came to Juniper.

Again that silence. Not uncomfortable, but noticeable.

Rei didn’t seem sure what to say, or maybe she was just thinking. Her fingers moved slightly on her cup again, then she let them drop.

"I always hoped you wouldn’t be alone," she said quietly.

Dabi didn’t move.
Without a doubt, she was speaking about the solitary confinement he had been placed in again and again in Tartarus.
His gaze stayed fixed on the glass that distorted the world outside. He didn’t know what to say to that.
Maybe there was nothing to say.

But this time, it didn’t feel to Rei like he was retreating.
More like he was simply waiting.

Rei gently wrapped her hands around her cup again, as if she wanted to hold the warmth in her fingers over and over. Her voice remained calm as she changed the subject, almost as if she wanted to give him space to slowly approach the conversation, without pressure, without expectations.

"I’ve spoken to the architects," she began softly.
"We’ve been working on redesigning your room for weeks now. It’s going to be a traditional Japanese room."

Dabi didn’t look at her directly.
His gaze dropped from the window to the cup in front of him.
The word traditional made something flicker inside him, an old memory: the wide tatami rooms, the scent of wood and paper walls, the bright light falling through the shoji windows.
It reminded him of the estate from his childhood.

He waited for the familiar pull in his chest, for the bitterness, the resistance.
But none of it came. Only a quiet echo, not of his father, not of the coldness of those rooms, but of her.
Of the way she was making an effort to give him something familiar.

He didn’t know what to say to that.

Rei looked at him with a gentle, open expression.
"I wanted you to have a place that…" She searched for the right words.
"That feels like home, if you can allow it."

Home.
The word would have made him freeze in the past, would have triggered a wave of rejection and sarcasm.
But today?

Today, it felt different.
And he didn’t want to think about it.

His gaze slowly wandered from the steaming cup to her face.
And there it was,
the thing he always unconsciously braced for,
the thing that left a bitter sting in him every time.

Her scars.
The healed, distorted tissue that stretched across her cheek, down her neck, to the places hidden beneath her collar.
He knew exactly where they ended.
He knew exactly what they felt like.

His flames
had done that.

Dabi would have looked away if he could, but something kept him from averting his gaze.
It wasn’t guilt. Not remorse in the usual sense.
He believed those feelings had long since burned to ash inside him.
This was something else.
Something more unbearable.

Because there was no hatred in her eyes.
No fear. No anger.
Only the quiet, unintrusive warmth of a mother who simply wanted to do something good for her son.

He didn’t let it show. His face stayed blank, his hands loose, no tension in his shoulders.
But when he finally spoke, his voice was lower, rougher than before.
“You didn’t have to do that. My room’s fine.”

Rei shook her head gently.
“I wanted to, Touya. It made me happy to think of you, to imagine you feeling a little more comfortable. Doing something for you…” She smiled softly. “It’s the first thing that’s felt truly good in a long time.”

Dabi said nothing.
He believed her. Somehow.
And maybe that was the most surprising part.

Rei lowered her gaze to the bag beside her, as if only just now remembering it.
“Oh, I brought you some clothes.” She opened the zipper and peeked inside. “Did you use the things I left for you last time? Was there anything you liked?”

Dabi leaned back slightly, pulling his shoulders in.
He had no real attachment to clothes.
They were just fabric. Something to cover his body.
But he did remember that the things she’d sent were plain and comfortable.
No itchy materials. Nothing unnecessary.

He merely shrugged. “They fit.”

Rei didn’t seem discouraged by his short reply.
“If you need anything else, just say so.”

Dabi didn’t answer, and for a moment, only the low hum of the heater filled the room.

Then Rei changed the subject.
“I saw a report about this institute. On TV. Dr. Inomori was interviewed.”

Dabi’s gaze lifted slightly.

“She spoke about the success rates, about the idea of long-term reintegration,” she continued.
“She said healing isn’t linear.”

Rei looked thoughtful.
“She said guilt and self-hate aren’t the best motivators for change because they erode your sense of self. That people need to learn not to define themselves solely by their past, but by what they choose to do now.”

Dabi listened.
Silently.
He didn’t know what to make of it.

But then his mother said something that made him freeze.

“I know her, by the way. From back then.”

His eyes narrowed slightly.

“She was still a student at the time and worked at the hospital. As an assistant to her mother. Dr. Inomori – her mother – was my physician.”

He let that sink in.
So this pseudo-therapist knew his mother, and hadn’t said a damn word.
Something inside him hardened.

“She was very young back then, but I remember her,” Rei continued.
“She used to ask me how I was doing over tea. Her mother was strict, but she was a dedicated student.”

Dabi crossed his arms, his gaze growing colder.
He didn’t like this.
That Juniper had already known things about him before they’d even met.
That she knew more about his family than he’d ever guessed.

He didn’t know what bothered him more:
The idea that she might have come into this with preconceived pity,
or that she might’ve already studied him before he even had the chance to step into this place on his own terms.

His eyes flicked discreetly to the door.
Suddenly, the room didn’t feel quite so comfortable anymore.

Dabi felt watched.
It was a soft, yet pressing sensation, like a shadow clinging to the back of his neck.
He scanned the corners of the room again for hidden cameras.
He couldn’t see any.
But he felt her.

Juniper.

His hands rested loosely on his knees.
At least on the outside.
Inside, suspicion was coiling tight.
He didn’t really know Juniper.
She had admitted him here, claimed to have fought for his place in the program, but why?
What was her angle?

So far, they’d only had dinner together a few times.
Those meetings had been… strange.
She talked about trivial things. Sometimes about the food. Sometimes completely random topics.
He couldn’t tell if she was trying to manipulate him or if that was just how she was.

His gaze drifted back to his mother.

Rei had been watching him closely.
She knew his silences.
She knew how much more quiet he became when he was lost in thought.

Softly, she said,
“I know you don’t trust her.”

Touya didn’t respond.

Rei folded her hands in her lap, as if trying to make herself smaller, less threatening.
“I understand. I really do.”

He exhaled slowly, not quite looking at her.

“But I trust Dr. Inomori,” she continued.
Her voice was calm, but firm.
“She’s someone who believes in what she does with all her heart.
And she’s one of the few people I’ve met who isn’t led by fear or prejudice.”

Dabi let the words settle.

“Even back then, when she was so young, I could see that she took her work seriously.
She wasn’t just there to learn, she wanted to help. To truly understand.”

Rei paused, as if reliving those memories.

“And without her… without what she did… it wouldn’t have been possible to get you into this program.”

Dabi slowly lifted his head.

“There were many who didn’t want you here, Touya.”
Rei met his eyes with a raw, unfiltered honesty.
“It was a fight. A hard one. But she fought it.
And she won.”

His eyes narrowed even more.

Juniper.

He knew he wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for her.
But why?
Why had she insisted so much?

He hated owing people
and he didn’t even know what kind of debt he owed her.

Rei seemed to sense his tension.
Gently, she added,
“You don’t have to trust her, or this place. Not right away.
But maybe… maybe you can give her a chance.”

Dabi held her gaze for a moment.

Then he turned away slowly and stared at a spot on the wall.

He didn’t say anything.
Rei could see it on him. The way his shoulders tensed, how his fingers twitched slightly but didn’t move. His eyes were fixed on some point in the distance, and yet he was no longer really here.
He was fighting.
Not with her. Not even truly with Juniper.
But with himself.

A quiet sigh escaped her lips. She hesitated for a moment, as if asking herself whether it was the right thing to do,
but then,
slowly,
she moved.
Slow enough
that he could see it coming.
She stood up, pushed the chair back gently, and walked around the small table between them. Her movements were soft, careful, like approaching a skittish animal.

She sat down next to him.
Not too close.
Just close enough that he could feel she was there.

Dabi didn’t move. He didn’t say anything, didn’t pull away, but he also didn’t lean toward her.
That was fine with her.
Rei placed her hands in her lap and let the moment exist between them without pushing it.

Then, carefully
ever so gently
she raised a hand.

For a second, she let it hover in the air, as if questioning whether she was allowed to do this.
Then she placed it lightly on his forearm.

Just a soft touch.
No more than a whisper.

Touya froze for the briefest instant.
But he didn’t pull away.
It wasn’t a touch that asked anything of him. Not one that tried to push or demand.
Just a simple, honest gesture.

He couldn’t put it into words, but something in him stirred.
A feeling that didn’t burn.
That didn’t ache.
Something that just… wanted to exist. He didn’t let it show, not even through the smallest gesture, but he let it exist, unnamed.

Rei gently brushed her thumb over his arm, then withdrew her hand again, giving him the space he needed.
For a while, they sat like that, in quiet understanding.

Then she exhaled slowly and said softly, “I’ll be back soon.”

Dabi blinked, his gaze lifting slightly.
“Once the construction is finished, at the latest.” She gave him a small, warm smile. “Then you can tell me yourself whether you like the room.”

He looked at her, his eyes tracing the faint burn scars on her face.
He didn’t know what to say to that.
So he said nothing.

Rei didn’t seem to expect an answer. She slowly stood up, smoothed the fabric of her skirt, and took a step back.
“Take care of yourself, Touya.”

She waited a moment longer, as if giving him the chance to say something after all.
But when nothing came, she just gave him a soft nod
and left the room.

Dabi remained where he was.
He slowly sank back against the chair’s backrest and closed his eyes for a moment.
He just sat there in silence, unmoving. His gaze eventually fell to the bag of clothes Rei had left behind. The edges of the fabric were neatly folded, everything carefully chosen.

He didn’t think much about it. He was too tired to get lost in thoughts.
His head felt heavy.
Not from chaos or rage, but from a dull exhaustion lodged deep in his bones.

He knew he couldn’t stay here long. Eventually, someone would come in and kick him out, or whatever.
Just a few more minutes, then this would be over.
He blinked slowly, letting his gaze wander around the room.

All of this
the room, the furniture, the thick glass windows instead of concrete and bars,
was better. Better than Tartarus. That was a fact, not a feeling, he thought.

The bag still sat there.
He wondered briefly if he even felt like looking through it. If it even made a difference what was inside.
Probably not.

But his mother had put thought into it. For weeks she had planned, organized, even worked with architects.
Just thinking about that was exhausting.
He’d expected to feel some kind of disgust about it all. That the conversation would drag him back to memories he’d rather keep buried.
But it didn’t.

Only one simple truth remained:
His mother had wanted to do something good for him.

He rested an elbow on the sofa arm and ran a hand through his hair.
His gaze drifted toward the door.

Fucking Juniper.
The fact that she’d known his mom before,
It stuck in the back of his mind like a splinter, constantly pressing against him.

He felt like he should confront her.
Say something.
Show some kind of reaction.

But if he was honest, he didn’t have the energy for it.
Not now.
Maybe he’d talk to her later.
Or not at all.
Maybe it didn’t matter.

The thought was gone as quickly as it came.

He leaned back, stared briefly at the ceiling, then closed his eyes.
Just for a moment.
The exhaustion weighed heavier than anything else.

Chapter Text

No one had woken him.
He simply woke up.
Still in that visitor room, now completely swallowed by the darkness of the night. The large windows let in only the faint remainder of moonlight, hinting at a soon-to-rise sun. The room seemed detached from time and reality, more like an aquarium where sounds floated around, muffled and weightless.

Dabi blinked. His thoughts reached out drowsily for an anchor.
How long had she been gone?

He lifted his head, let his gaze wander, searched for a clock or any kind of clue that would tell him how many hours had passed since the conversation with his mother. Everything was silent. Abandoned. Even the bag with the clothes she had left for him looked untouched.

With a rough sound he dragged a hand over his face. The coolness of his palm woke him up for good.
He sat up, rolled his shoulders, stretched his back as if he had to shake off the weight of sleep.

Then came the first wave, not fatigue, not hunger.

Anger.

That fine, hot line pushing up from his stomach to his throat and biting in like burning wire.

Juniper knew his mother.

She knew her. His jaw tensed to the point of pain.

That therapist with her crooked, controlled smile, with her airy words and the way she held conversations without ever really showing her colors, she hadn’t said a single word about it.
Not a single damn word.

All those stupid shared dinners, where she had books in front of her she never really read, and talked about topics that couldn’t have been more banal. All that time, and she had kept quiet about knowing his mother for years?

His face twisted into a grim expression, and his mouth went completely dry.

Hypocrite.

Energy surged through his muscles like adrenaline.
He would confront her. Right now.
Before he calmed down again, before the anger buried itself somewhere once more.

He stormed toward the door with quick steps. He didn’t consciously think about slamming it, but it flew shut, crashed into the frame as if it needed to release the heat in his chest. And if he had woken anyone in this goddamn loony bin with it, all the better.

The lobby was silent.

Dabi spotted the clock on the wall above the reception desk, right where Hanna was usually stationed.
5:30 AM
Too early. He stared at the clock as if it was laughing at him.

He cursed under his breath.

Energy buzzed in his body, it wanted to go somewhere, but he had no damn clue where to take it. He could try to find her office, bang on her door until she was forced to open it. But what for, if she probably wasn’t even there?

And then, as if his frustration and curses had summoned her out of nowhere, the front entrance opened.
Cold air crept in like an unwanted guest.

Juniper stepped inside, accompanied by a guard carrying a sports bag over his shoulder. The two of them were caught up in a conversation that flowed quietly between them like harmless routine.

Something inside him tightened further, like a rope pulled too many times. His gaze locked on Juniper. And he would keep staring until she looked back at him.

She picked up on it instantly when she saw him and met his angry glare with surprising clarity. Even the guard beside her noticed the tense body language of the younger man and instinctively wanted to step forward to better assess the situation or potentially deescalate.

But Juniper’s hand moved quickly and decisively into his field of view.
“Would you please bring my bag to my office?” Her voice was calm and friendly as always, but with a tone that allowed no objections.

The guard hesitated for a moment, gave Dabi a scrutinizing, almost professionally calculating look, then gave a short nod to his superior and disappeared with the bag into the stairwell.

Dabi had spent enough days in this strange institution by now to stop seeing scenes like this as exceptions. He had watched often enough how Dr. Inomori coordinated the guards with only a few words, how she never framed her requests as orders and yet no one ever contradicted her.
Still, it felt strange every single time how naturally it seemed that a therapist,
a weak, quirkless woman,
had more power here than all of those in uniform.

And now they stood there.
In this half-lit hallway of the clinic, accompanied only by the soft ticking of the wall clock behind the counter.
A strange silent conversation of glances and implied accusation filled the space between them.

She opened her mouth, about to say something, probably something diplomatic, something meant to calm him down.
But he beat her to it, cut in as if he had been waiting for her to take just one breath too many.
“My lying doc didn’t tell me she knows my mother.”

The words sliced through the air like a downward cut.
He saw how she froze for a moment and for the blink of an eye he thought he saw an expression of exhaustion cross her face. Something that wanted to give in.
But then it was gone.

Her posture shifted. Something in her straightened, gathered itself anew. Not hostile, but not submissive either. As if his accusation had stirred something in her. A spark of pride or insight, maybe even a trace of anger.
He was already bracing for her to speak into a walkie-talkie and instruct someone to take him back to his room. He was practically waiting for that friendly façade of hers to finally crack
for her to react like all the prison wardens he had dealt with before.

But no sharp orders came from her mouth. When her lips parted again to speak, her words were gentle, with a kind of calm emphasis that almost felt uncomfortable in its serenity.

"I was actually expecting you for dinner tonight," she said. "But we can talk about it over breakfast if you prefer."

"Fuck you."
Dabi's gaze was cold, condescending. His posture said it all, saturated with nothing but pure rejection.
"Fuck you and your damn facility. I have no idea what you and your whole little cult want from me."

"But?"
Juniper stayed calm. Her voice was soft and controlled. There was no reproach in it, just a quiet encouragement to keep talking. She didn’t dare take a step closer. Not with that tightly wound fury radiating from every fiber of his body. Not with that energy coming off of him like a loaded weapon.
It was the most emotional state he had ever shown. And she didn’t want to interrupt. Not now.
He should be allowed to hate. To be angry. To let out everything that had built up inside him. She knew she probably even deserved it.

Because even if it had seemed like a smart strategic move at first to keep quiet about her connection to his mother, she now felt that it had been a mistake.
If she really wanted, as she had mentioned to Hana, to speak casually with him, then she had to start playing more openly.

Her one-worded question still lingered in the air. And Dabi took the bait.

"But leave my fucking mother out of your messed-up game."
He stepped closer. His voice grew louder, his gaze drilled into hers. His eyes had narrowed to threatening slits.

Dabi knew, if he had access to his Quirk right now, he would’ve used it. The flames would have emphasized his fury, pushed his intimidation to a whole new level.
And he relished it. That brief moment of control. Of volume. Of boundaries that, for once, he got to define.

She stood calmly in front of him and endured his rage. Took in every word, every gesture, every expression on his face,
as if she didn’t want to brush any of it off, didn’t want to talk it down or rationalize it.

"I can tell you everything. About back then. When I was a resident at the hospital your mo-"

"Jesus Christ, I don’t think you understood me!"
He cut her off again, stepped even closer. Now he was right in front of her, towering over her.

"I’m not interested in your little coffee talks and your shitty stories."

Dabi was close enough to see every detail of her face.
How her eyes scanned his, this time without the usual air of confident composure. Without the perfect control.
And he counted that as a win.

Her voice broke through his aggression with disarming ease.
"I’m sorry." She didn’t look away.
"Please give me a chance to answer your questions."
Again, he lost his sense of time, just like a few minutes earlier when he had woken up from a dreamless sleep in the visitor room. Now he stared at Juniper, full of anger that slowly shifted into confusion, then into sheer incomprehension.

There it was again. Just like with Hana, the receptionist, when she had drawn his blood. People apologized to him. People asked him for something. Him, the villain, the one who didn’t deserve forgiveness.
He didn’t want to think about it. But his anger... it slowly drained away, almost reluctantly.

"If you want, we can go to my office." Her voice was calm, but then she thoughtfully placed a hand under her chin, her gaze breaking from his.
"Maybe that’s a bad place. We could also go to the conservatory."

He didn’t respond.

She remembered the shift change notification, Dabi had slept in visitor room 3, and she had explicitly advised them not to disturb him. With that in mind, she didn’t want to bring him back there now.

Her eyes wandered around the room as if she were spontaneously searching for a better idea. Then she returned to her original suggestion.

"Come on. Let’s take the elevator directly. My office isn’t far."
And again, she moved forward with that quiet confidence, as if it were a given that she’d be followed.

For a long moment, Dabi seriously considered grabbing her by the wrist and pulling her back. Showing her again that he wasn’t in the mood for her games.

But the ping of the arriving elevator made his feet move almost automatically toward Juniper, who was holding the door open with a finger on the button, without saying another word.

They stood silently in the elevator. Juniper fished her keycard from her handbag and held it against the scanner, which then unlocked the upper floors. Dabi watched her closely as she did, since that area had so far remained off limits to him.

So her office was on the fifth floor. He followed her down the hallway to a door that bore no outward sign of being anything special. Only the soft, familiar mechanical click as she scanned her card again revealed that it granted access.

Now he was standing in her office. It was about the size of his own room, but far more nicely furnished with dark furniture, an almost absurdly large bookcase reaching to the ceiling. And yet he barely registered his surroundings. His gaze remained fixed on her, his anger not gone, only dulled.

Juniper gestured toward the leather couch, which, along with a low table and a comfortable armchair, formed a small sitting area a bit apart from her desk.

He wondered how stupid she had to be. She was now completely alone with him in a locked room. The door had clicked shut behind them, none of the windows were open. As long as this room was like the others, the walls should be well soundproofed.
No one would hear a sound from her. He could easily bring her to the ground.

She bent down to take the duffel bag off the couch.
Clearly, the guard had left it there at her request. She set it on the floor to make room for Dabi, while turning her back to him in the process.

How much false trust could someone place in another human being? If he wanted to, he could be on her in a second, cover her mouth, and no one would hear her screams. She wasn’t a delicate woman, but her neck looked small enough that his hands would fit around it effortlessly.
He could squeeze.
Slowly.
Until there was no breath left.

And then?
He saw it before him, the scenario as clear as a film: Her keycard in his hand, granting him access to all levels. Maybe he'd catch a guard by surprise, knock them out with a precise hit. The doors would open.
Freedom. And someone would later find her dead in her office.

A sharp stab pierced his chest.
These thoughts were brutal and unfiltered.
And they tormented him. It had been a long time since he’d thought about taking someone’s life.
It scared him. So he emptied his mind again.

"Have a seat, if you like."
He didn’t move.
She sat down.

“Well… where do I start?”
She brushed her hair back and let her hand rest thoughtfully against her temple. No theatrics. She was genuinely thinking hard about what to say next.

"I was still in med school when I started working at my mother’s clinic."
She paused, her gaze resting on him for a moment as he stared back motionlessly.
"At first, my mother only brought me on rounds so I could work with real-life cases quickly."

"I don’t need your life story."
Dabi crossed his arms impatiently and let out a snort of breath.

Juniper nodded. Not intimidated, more like understanding.
She seemed to be trying to get to the point quicker.

The armchair creaked softly as she leaned back a little and crossed her legs. He thought she was making herself far too comfortable.

"Rei Todoroki was the VIP of the clinic. There were many security measures in place to protect her from paparazzi, curious visitors, all the noise. Only a very small number of staff were allowed to see her, and most of them were rotated regularly so no one could get too close. She was supposed to have peace. But... eventually, she asked that I come by more often. She said it did her good to see familiar faces more frequently."

Dabi still looked annoyed, unimpressed by the answer. He rolled his eyes, uncrossed his arms, and dropped onto the couch with a sigh. This damn therapist just took forever to get to the point.

"During the rest of my studies, and even for a year or two afterward, I was allowed to accompany her through her recovery. At first, it was casual. I’d do homework in her room, and she’d listen while I studied. Eventually, she started asking questions... about my life, my family... and finally, she began to talk about herself. Her childhood, her school days. And her children."

"Her fucked-up eldest son," he muttered dryly, leaning against the backrest of the couch.

"Technically, you were considered dead at the time," Juniper replied calmly, almost casually, like someone simply stating a fact. "You weren’t the fucked-up son, you were just... the dead one."
There was a hint of a smile in her voice, though again, she didn’t react to his sarcastic remark.

His posture stayed defensive, almost demonstratively bored. Part of him wanted to mock every word she said, to make it ridiculous,
but another part… just listened.

"But yes... eventually, you went public. Everyone knew about the fate of the eldest Todoroki son."

Juniper continued speaking calmly, as if flipping through the years in her mind.
"She reached out to me back then. We spoke on the phone."

She narrowed her eyes slightly, as if trying to sharpen a faded memory.

"She didn’t say much,
but what she did say…
had weight.
It left a lasting impression on me."

She paused, checking his eyes, as if she meant not just to share those words but to hand them over,
like a secret message carefully preserved.

"She said: My son is alive.
And I want to do everything in my power
to make sure my children are okay.
I want them all to come home."

Silence.

His expression twitched slightly, like someone had turned a spotlight on him after his eyes had long adapted to the dark. The quiet crack of his fingers as he unconsciously clenched his fists revealed more than his motionless face.

Dabi stayed quiet, eyes fixed stubbornly on a spot behind her.
"You know how fucked it is," his voice was a deep, rough rasp. "I gave my whole family some nice burn scars, and I didn’t go home... I went to a fucking cell."
His sluggish eyes now had that unreadable sharpness again, and he watched her with that dead-tired stare.

Juniper remained silent. Maybe because she knew that any word now would only be met with resistance.

He turned away, rested his elbows on his knees, and rubbed his face as if he could wipe away everything that was stirring inside him. The constriction, the flicker of something that dangerously resembled grief.

“I don’t wanna talk about my fucking family.” His growl was even more charged than before. “Just don’t give my mom the idea that this changes anything!” He gestured toward himself and the entire room. Undoubtedly meaning the therapy. “Don’t give her false hope, or I swear I’ll kill you.”

He actually meant to get up right then, he had made his point clearly enough,
but Juniper began speaking again in that determined way of hers.
“She’s an inspiring person. And I’ve decided to help her.”
Her words were resolute.
“I’m not in her debt. I don’t hold a grudge against her. I’m not expecting anything in return.”

Juniper and Dabi looked at each other as if, in that moment, every gate was open
nothing protected and nothing hidden.

“I co-founded this large-scale project. Worldwide, there’s at least one facility like this in every country,
places where we’ve made it our mission to truly understand, to forgive, and to begin again.”

It annoyed him. He didn’t need a Wikipedia entry about the hospital. But… what did he actually want to hear?
He wanted to be angry again. He tried. But it didn’t work.
Instead, he stared at her, desperately trying to summon contempt.

“Then what the hell am I doing here?”
His voice was loud again now, thick with rage.
“There’s nothing to forgive.
The biggest fucking favor they did me was to reduce my death sentence to life in prison.
Congrats.
That just drags out the inevitable.
I’m gonna die, just not burned to death, but rotting in some fucked-up asylum.”

Ah, there it was again.
His burning rage and contempt.
And this time, he wanted to feed the flames.

“Everything is fucking pointless.
This place,
your work,
your fucking attitude!
It’s not going to change a damn thing! The world and life itself are one big fucking joke. You tell me: what the hell is therapy supposed to do? What good does it do me to keep talking about how many people I’ve killed because daddy beat the shit out of me as a kid?”

The room was still dimly lit by the pale blue light of dawn streaming through the tall windows.
It was quiet. No sounds from outside, no sign that the day had begun.

Juniper answered calmly, without hesitation, but with a softness that drove him insane.

“Your mother, your sister, your two brothers...” she paused briefly “even Endeavor. They all had the chance to speak in the past few years. To heal. Every one of them got to talk about what tore them apart. Everyone except the one who had to learn as a child that love comes with conditions.”

He could feel his pulse racing, yet his body remained completely frozen, as if someone had put him on ice.

“They planted dreams in you that were never yours. They told you that those dreams were your only purpose. And when you failed in their eyes, they took them from you. They left you. Alone. No one who would listen. Because they were all too broken themselves.”

The scent of old books lingered in the air, mixed with something warm and human, probably Juniper’s perfume. It pissed him off that even that smell couldn’t distract him.

She continued speaking, calmly.

“You gave everything. And they made you believe you’d still never be good enough. You were hurt,
inside and out. So deeply that eventually your nervous system decided: feelings are dangerous.”

“You learned as a child that love hurts. That closeness leads to disappointment. That pain is normal.”

“You were used.
Abandoned.
Sacrificed.”

“And you survived by cutting off everything that made you human. So no one could ever break you again.”

The words echoed in the room, muffled by the thick walls, but crystal clear in his head.

“No one truly looked for you after your ‘death’ on Sekoto Peak. You were alone on the street, with a quirk that only brought pain, in a body that had aged while the child inside had already died.”

His vision blurred, the edges flickering like a weak candle.

“And even the few people you met later,
the ones who might’ve been like you,
they took those from you too.”

“What you experienced was violence. Continuous emotional neglect. Physical self-destruction. And the feeling of never being wanted,
except as a weapon.”

“And now they’ve taken your quirk too. Your fire.
The thing that brought pain, yes, but also identity.”

It was too much.

He jumped up, the leather couch screeching slightly as it scraped the floor. He stormed around the table. Without hesitation, he grabbed her by the collar, yanked her forward until their faces were nearly touching. Their breaths mingled.

“Shut the fuck up,” he hissed through clenched teeth. “I could kill you right now. Even without my fire!”

He was searching. Looking for fear.
Panic. Anything that would give him the feeling of control.
But there was nothing. Just that damn understanding in her eyes.
Warm and fearless.

“Why the fuck aren’t you afraid?” he hissed, his voice nearly cracking from rage.

And then came her answer. With an unbearable, gentle clarity.

“Because you’re tired.
Because you don’t want to fight anymore.
Because you don’t want to hurt anyone ever again.”

Silence.

They stared at each other, wordless, for what felt like an endlessly long moment.

He truly believed he still had the upper hand in this conversation. Had her literally in his grip, in his power. But when his eyes flicked from hers down to his own hands, he noticed that his fingers were trembling at her collar.

With a flicker of shock, he realized it wasn’t his rage that drove the movement through his limbs,
but something else.

Dabi let go of her. Released her.
Not, however, without using the opportunity to shove her back into the armchair.

A laugh burst from him. Rough, dry, almost lifeless.
He straightened up in front of her, covered his eyes with his hand as if not wanting to be seen.
Broken through and through.

“You don’t know shit about me.”
His voice was mocking, dripping with contempt, as his eyes glinted through his fingers.

Juniper landed in the chair, her body visibly tense. Anyone even half awake would’ve seen how much strength it took her to stay composed in that moment. To not show exhaustion. To not show fear.

Calmly, firmly, and far too resolute for what she had just gone through, she spoke again:

“Then give me a chance to get to know you.”

Chapter Text

“Any idiot who wasn’t asleep ten years ago should know my name is Todoroki Touya.”

With a dull thud, he dropped into one of the armchairs, pulled the bowls of soba toward him, and dipped his chopsticks into the salty broth. The familiar taste spread comfortingly across his tongue, as if it could bring him back to another place, just for a moment.

The conservatory lay in a soft twilight mood, the glass ceiling slowly tinting into the first blue of night. Halloween decorations cast flickering shadows on the floor. Little pumpkins with LED candles, more cute than creepy, like everything here that tried to be comforting without being too intrusive. Even the scented candles were subtle, out of respect for residents with sensitive noses, since mutant quirks could react strongly.

Juniper had one of her books in her hands again. Maybe even the same one as always. With a sideways glance, he realized she never really read. Just like she never ate with him. The soba were always there for him. Never for her.

A damn fake therapist, he thought with half-hearted interest. He told himself he was watching her so closely to figure her out, to see it coming in case she tried anything. Like everyone else.

He lifted his eyes from his soup. She returned the look with a small smile in greeting. That dumb smile. He rolled his eyes and spoke more to his broth than to her:
“Why do you still call me Dabi?” His voice was casual, almost like a statement.

With a soft sound, Juniper closed the book, holding it loosely in one hand while resting her chin on the table with the other. Her gaze wandered slowly upward through the glass roof. The first stars appearing in the sky, quiet, as if they didn’t want to disturb.

“When we’re born, we don’t really get a say in who we are, least of all what we’re named.”
Her gaze slowly drifted back to him. She was always searching his features for traces of something honest beneath all the cynicism.

“And then you grow up and realize the name you were given might not fit you at all. So you tell the people around you who you really are. What you want to be called.”

She paused briefly, waiting for their eyes to meet again. Then she continued, calmly:
“And you chose to be Dabi.”

With a calm motion, she placed the book down on the table for good. Then she straightened up, fully turning toward him, as if she wasn’t just listening now, but fully meeting him.

“What, you think I was gonna keep using the family name? Might as well tattoo a target on my back.”
Dabi looked at her with an irritated shake of his head, but didn’t look away.

“Correct.”
Juniper nodded in agreement. Her arms crossed loosely in front of her chest. Not in defensive, more like making herself comfortable in the conversation.
“But that’s probably only half the truth.”

“You lived under that name for a long time. Even if it was in hiding. And that’s how you introduced yourself to your allies, too.”

“Because calling myself Touya wouldn’t have raised any flags at all, right?” His voice was cool and distant. As if he’d never had anything to do with that man.

She nodded slowly again.
“But why Dabi, then? Why not Haruto, Minato, Minoru? And slap on a generic family name like Sato, one half the population has?”
She tilted her head slightly, but her look was genuinely curious, not judging.
“If you really wanted to disappear… why pick a name that stands out?”

His chopsticks clattered into the broth.
“Fuck you.”
He barely straightened, but his voice suddenly carried heat. His fingers twitched on the table surface.
“My skin burned off my bones, and it reeked like hell. Like corpses smell when they’re cremated. Dabi fit.”

Silence settled over the room again, as if even the darkness needed a moment to swallow the harshness of his words.

“荼毘 are the kanji for ‘Cremation’. A fitting name for the intensity and power of your blue flames. For your very own quirk.”
She uncrossed her arms and leaned slightly to the side, resting her head against the armrest. Her voice was matter-of-fact, almost casual, yet full of meaning.

“But you can read the kanji differently, too: 荼 (ta) means lantern, 毘 (bi) means arrow. Together that makes: light arrow. With an interpretation of: strength. Growth. And above all, endurance. The ability to persevere.”

Dabi shook his head in disbelief. Like he had to explain the simplest things to her.
He leaned back as well, mirroring her posture almost exactly, whether out of defiance, mockery, or curiosity, it was hard to tell.
“You’re reading way too much into this.”

“We rarely do things just on a whim,” she replied softly with a small pause, a barely visible smile that kept her words from sounding too pushy. But she let them linger in the room on purpose.

Dabi had sunk back into the chair, his gaze fixed on the floor beside him, as if it understood him better than any person ever could.

Juniper sat opposite him in that usual calm of hers. Her voice remained gentle, almost like an offer you could refuse at any time.
“I could speak for you, if you want.”

He looked at her slowly.
Suspicious. Incredibly tired.

“Not because I think I know you better than you know yourself. But because I know how hard it is to say thoughts out loud when they don’t feel like they’re your own.”
She paused deliberately, always giving him space to cut in.
“I could try to put them into words. And you just say if I’m right. Or if I’m wrong.”

His jaw tensed and his eyes narrowed into snarling slits.
“Fuck you.”

She laughed softly. Not mockingly. Not surprised.
More like someone who’s learned not to take the echo of a reflex personally anymore. She didn’t push further and simply accepted it.

“There was a woman in the League of Villains. Magne.”
Juniper leaned sideways over the armrest, reaching for a plastic bag from the combini.
With a soft click, she opened a bottle of green tea, taking a few large, almost thirsty gulps before continuing.
“Magne knew exactly who she was. She left her deadname 'Kenji Hikiishi' behind and chose to live as a trans woman.
Her dream was to live her life the way she envisioned it. And of course, to support you all in your dreams too.”

Dabi watched her as she lifted the bottle to her lips again, then turned back to his soba.
He was still hungry.
And yet, his mind wouldn’t let him just keep eating, because now the image of Magne had taken root in his thoughts.

He’d never spoken much with her. But something inside him had shifted after her death.
Magne had been one of the few in the League who truly knew who she was.
“Did that come from one of your millions of files? Or did the media just chew us up so badly that no one could stand seeing our faces on TV anymore?”
His voice was calm, but laced with bitterness.

Juniper screwed the bottle shut, set it on the table, and gave a crooked smile.
“Oh yeah, the media loved you guys. I bet even today your father still has to pull every string he’s got to stop some random filmmaker from finally making his big Dabi movie.”
She let out a genuine laugh, though it carried a note of disbelief.
And it was true. Enji Todoroki had said it in multiple interviews: he wanted to keep his family out of everything.
He wanted to protect his son.

Dabi said nothing.
His white hair fell into his face, hiding his eyes, and he forced himself to keep eating.
He didn’t want to talk about his father.

“You’re right, of course. I don’t know anything about Magne except what was made public. And what I found in the police reports I was given access to before I was even allowed to sit in front of the infamous Dabi.”
Juniper let her gaze drift through the empty conservatory.

Normally, there were always people here.
But for a while now, they’d left the space to her whenever she came in with the dinner tray. Everyone knew by now that this was her time with Dabi.
Maybe it was her expression.
Maybe it was just that Dabi’s presence alone drove everyone else out of the room.

So the conservatory belonged to them.
Every evening.
No arrangements needed.

“I think Magne was an underrated bright spot in the League,” Juniper said quietly.
“Her courage wasn’t about using violence. It was simply about existing, being herself, in a world that couldn’t protect her.”
A thoughtful silence settled between them.

“Trans people often have to reclaim their own bodies, their own lives. Magne chose that path.
And her decision to join the League wasn’t weakness.
It came from a deep sense of justice.”

Dabi chewed slower.
And suddenly, there it was again, that image.
The way Magne had smiled when she introduced herself.
How happy she’d been when someone used her name.
Back then, he hadn’t really understood it. He’d just accepted it, like so many things.
Maybe he hadn’t really seen her in the midst of his own mission.
Hadn’t noticed how at peace she was with herself.
He’d never had that.

He’d been Touya the failure.
Then Dabi the one obsessed with revenge.

“And the black hair?” Juniper asked eventually, her voice teasing, as she playfully twirled a strand of her own hair between her fingers.

Dabi let out a loud sigh. “Same reason as before: so no one would recognize me.”
Annoyed, he took the last bites of his dinner, laid the chopsticks beside the empty bowl, and leaned back.

Juniper watched him with a faintly triumphant smile.
“You and your siblings were a well-kept secret. So many people didn’t even know your faces, let alone your quirks.”
She tilted her head slightly.
“And your fire… it changed color. Jet-black hair has actually become more noticeable since the quirk era began, much rarer than white now.
Ironically, it probably would’ve been more discreet not to dye it at all.”

Her tone stayed soft, not mocking, just curious with a question disguised as an observation.
She wanted to know if he would remember.
If he’d let himself remember.

Dabi exhaled deeply and said nothing at first.
Then he tilted his head back, staring at the stars above through the glass ceiling.
… and closed his eyes.

He felt his thoughts begin to drift.
Falling backward.
Flickering neon lights in a grimy public restroom.
He was young. Maybe eighteen. Maybe younger.
His face was hollow, dark circles under his eyes, the scars already part of his skin, and that head of hair: completely white.
Not a trace of the fiery red that had once defined him.
A silent sign that even this legacy meant nothing anymore.

He remembered wandering the streets aimlessly afterward, until he ended up in a drugstore.
How he stood too long in front of the hair dye section.
He’d wanted to grab red. Really.
But then it just became black.
He’d taken it without another thought.
Stolen it.
And stuck with it ever since.

Slowly, Dabi opened his eyes again.
Juniper was watching him, her eyes full of quiet anticipation.
Not demanding, but listening.

He knew she was trying to understand him.

A crooked grin tugged at his lips.
If she thought she was getting close, he wanted to see if he could throw her off.
“Suited me,” he said dryly. “Bet you thought it was pretty hot, huh?”
His lips curled into a playful grin, balanced somewhere between provocation and charm.

A tiny pause.

A silent blink.

A breath just a little too deep, like the air around her had shifted and she had to re-center herself.

And Dabi?
Leaned back.
Grinned wider in triumph.

She laughed quietly to herself, then with a deep, full laugh from her chest.
It was a genuine laugh, and even Dabi had to admit that not even his cynicism could twist it into something mean.

“I knew you were unpredictable…”
She wiped away a little tear of laughter.
Then slowly raised an eyebrow, eyeing him with a curious glint.
“It really did suit you.”

His grin didn’t disappear, just softened and showing less teeth.

Then she gently looked away, her gaze drifting back to the closed book on the table in front of her.
She ran her fingers absentmindedly over the cover without opening it.
“And you know what?”

“I don’t think you ever really wanted not to be recognized.
I think you wanted to be seen.
As someone else.
Someone new.
Even if it was just to prove something to the old version of yourself.”

A tiny twitch passed through the corner of his mouth.
Not quite confirmation. Not quite denial.

Juniper tilted her head a little.

“So…”
She rested her arms on the table and loosely interlaced her fingers.
“How should I address you from now on?
Dabi?
Mr. Todoroki?
Or…?”

He sat up slightly.
His gaze half-hidden under the messy fringe of his hair, eyelids lowered.
His chest rose slowly.

Then, in complete calm, he answered:

“Touya.”

And he said it with neither shame nor anger. Just as a fact.

Juniper nodded.
A soft smile this time, and a quiet, acknowledging blink.
She understood.

Chapter Text

A metallic clonk echoed from the room ahead, followed by a vaguely shouted “SORRY!” that got lost somewhere in the open pipes of the lower floors.

Touya stood in the hallway, arms crossed, leaning against the wall with a look of pure irritation, staring at the door to his room like the number itself might somehow change his situation. Room 415.

Technically, he’d been offered a different room to stay in while the construction work in his original one continued. But he had brusquely rejected Hana’s suggestion. Said he didn’t care if there was construction noise during the day and at night, the tatami mat would be more than enough to sleep on.

They had even proposed relocating him to an entirely different floor. But that was also off the table. Because after visiting Juniper’s office just once, he knew for certain: his current room was directly beneath hers. And although the clinic’s thick walls barely let any sound through, he convinced himself that maybe, he might hear her from down here. It was a small illusion of control, but one he clung to. Precious in its effect.

The only thing he could hear right now, though, was the maddening, rhythmic hammering coming from just a few feet away. Sometimes on wood, sometimes on metal, or whatever else they could find to drive him insane.

Touya sighed in frustration. His expression was a mix of exhaustion and simmering annoyance. His room was anything but a place to retreat from the busy routine of clinic life.

So he kept staring through his white hair at the door number, like it might speed up the renovation his mother had so “carefully” planned. Room 415.

The high-pitched screech of a power drill was the final straw. Touya uncrossed his arms, clicked his tongue in annoyance, and left the hallway in the direction of the stairwell. The elevator was constantly blocked by the workers carrying materials up and down, and Touya had no interest in hearing another lecture about whether “light oak or dark walnut” would be better for the window frame.

As if he didn’t have bigger problems.

He descended the stairs with his eyes on the floor, his movements marked by that typical blend of irritation and apathy. His feet moved on their own, not knowing where he was going. Just anywhere away from the noise and constant banging.

The stairwell was color-coded to visually separate the floors, and there were security-glass doors to the levels he couldn’t access by elevator.

From the prier altercation in Juniper’s office, he knew that he could open the glass doors from her side to return to the stairwell, but going in wasn’t so easy anymore.

Back then, he had stormed out in anger, slammed the door behind him, and left Juniper with a few sharply thrown words. But just a few days later, when they saw each other again, she had been anything but shaken. On the contrary, she was immediately back to her curious self, chatting about some random topic like nothing had happened while he silently ate his soba.

By now, Touya was convinced that Juniper couldn’t be entirely sane. But she hadn’t threatened him with any consequences, nor forced him into therapy sessions. She had unnecessarily blown up the topic of his name after he’d barely hinted at it, but he was slowly starting to see it as a kind of personal game: let’s see if he could throw her off balance when she got too absorbed in one of her rambly stories.

She often had a book with her, sometimes excused herself briefly to skim some documents or type something focused into her laptop while he silently dipped his noodles into the broth.

It didn’t bother him. He came for his favorite food and he had time to watch her more closely. And if he did say something, she’d immediately put her work aside and give him her full attention.

Touya didn’t fully understand what her game was. Sure, she had fought to get him admitted, his mother had told him that, and Juniper had confirmed it in passing. And yes, she had said she wanted to get to know him. But she hadn’t flooded him with questions since.

Through his now slightly overgrown white bangs, he threw one last glance back toward his room, still hearing the whine of the drill in the distance, thankfully, a bit more muffled now, then left the stairwell and headed toward the lobby.

He didn’t get far. Before he could fully enter the lobby, Touya came to an abrupt halt and shot an irritated look toward reception.

There, Hana was calmly speaking with a patient, handing him a glass bowl. The man grabbed a handful of candy and walked off toward the common area.

But what made Touya stop wasn’t the interaction. It was Hana’s appearance.

Her lavender hair, usually in a messy bun or ponytail, now fell freely over her shoulders, streaked with black and white. Over her clothes, she wore a black vampire cape with red lining that looked like it had come straight from a stage costume closet. When she spotted him, she waved cheerfully and to his horror, plastic vampire teeth gleamed from her smiling mouth.

“What the fuck…,” Touya muttered.

Hana rummaged through a stack of colorful flyers next to her, pulled one out, and handed him a piece of cardboard covered in a jumbled grid of numbers. “You can still sign up for the Halloween bingo if you want.”

Touya ignored the flyer, stepped up to the desk, and tilted his head with a tired, blank stare. “What… are you wearing?”

Hana did a little twirl on the spot, visibly pleased that her costume had been noticed. At the end of the spin, she dramatically raised one hand and drew the cape mysteriously in front of her mouth. “I’m a vampire, obviously!”

Touya didn’t say a word. He just kept staring at her, head still tilted, mouth slightly open in lingering confusion. The two stood in silence for a long second. Like frozen figures in a strange tableau, neither willing to be the first to back down.

The ping of the elevator finally broke the tension.

With a thud, Reno stepped out of the cab, brushing construction dust off his shoulders, the kind that coated anyone who dared use the elevator during renovations. On his head sat a headband with suspiciously long, square horns that wobbled slightly with every step.

When he saw the two at reception, his grin grew even wider. One had to wonder how much cheerfulness could fit into one person.

“Oh Hana-chan! You look so cute again!” His voice was almost sing-song. “You’re the sweetest vampire I’ve ever seen!”

Hana scrunched her mouth, crossed her arms, and looked away, though she still watched him from the corner of her eye. “Shut up, Takahashi… And what are you supposed to be?”

Reno straightened up, turned his back to them, and confidently pointed both thumbs over his shoulders. Between his broad shoulder blades sat a tiny backpack with little plastic wings that wobbled with every movement. The contrast against his muscular back couldn’t have been more absurd.

“I’m a pterosaur.” He rocked back and forth demonstratively, making the wings flap in rhythm.

Hana shook her head. “Did you get that from the children’s section?”

Unfazed, Reno stepped closer and snatched the bingo card that was still lying neglected on the counter. “Perfect! I almost forgot to sign up this year.”

“Hey! No!” Hana stretched out her arms as far as she could, trying to take the sheet back. “That bingo card is for Todoroki-san!”

Reno was just a mountain of a man, and with a mischievous grin, he held the paper just out of reach.
“Then Touya and I can go together,” he said cheerfully, turning to the white-haired man beside him and flashing his teeth again.

Touya had grown used to being called by his real name, ever since he’d been locked up, it was the polite way to address him. Most of the time, he was called scum, murderer, or other more creative insults.
But ever since that talk with Juniper, it felt like his name was being used in every other sentence, and each time just a little too much.

His half-lidded, turquoise eyes flicked tiredly to Reno. “No.”

Then he turned back to Hana. “Where’s your supervisor?”

Hana finally let go of the paper Reno had now triumphantly folded and slipped into his jacket pocket.
A faint, almost imperceptible note of disappointment crept into her voice.
“She’s not in the building today,” she said, adjusting her glasses. “Dinner with her family.”

She muttered something under her breath, more to herself than to anyone else, her gaze drifting off to the side as if even she wasn’t sure what the outcome might be.
“Maybe she’ll come back later tonight.”

Touya sighed and rolled his eyes. So the queen of the lunatic wasn’t around today.
That probably meant his dinner with her was off the table too.
And of course, she hadn’t even managed to let him know in advance.

Unreliable, wannabe therapist.

Before he could even begin to figure out how he’d kill time while the workers kept hammering and drilling through the walls, Hana interrupted his thoughts.

“Your dinner is ready as usual at six,” she said. “But this time, it’ll be in visitor room three. She sends her apologies.”

Touya stared at her with his usual tired, half-lidded eyes.
So Juniper hadn’t completely forgotten him, at least. He gave a small nod.

Then Hana suddenly leapt from her chair, eyes wide, pressing her glasses firmly against the bridge of her nose like she was trying to hold a runaway thought in place.
“Oh god! I forgot to check the medication labels, I’ve gotta go!”

She rushed past the two men toward the elevator, coughing just as the dusty doors slid open, and disappeared inside.

“Pumpkin chai latte later?” Reno called after her, as light-hearted as ever.

Hana just silently folded her arms and threw him a cool, calculating look before the elevator doors closed in front of her.

Reno kept watching her, his grin still in place, though just a little softer now.
“She’s really changed a lot, huh?”

Touya stood beside him, saying nothing, not even really thinking much of the moment, but his gaze lingered on the physiotherapist’s face with a flicker of curiosity.

“You know… she’s always had issues with her quirk,” Reno said, voice lower now, a little less brash.
“Long history of bullying. That blood-based quirk of hers? People always associate those with villains.”
He shrugged, as if he’d momentarily forgotten who he was standing next to.
“But now? She’s wearing a vampire costume with pride. That’s pretty damn cool.”

Touya was quiet for a beat.
Then, his voice came frigid, but tinged with curiosity, like a machine repeating a question it hadn’t expected to ask.
“You’ve known her long?”

Reno blinked, surprised. His golden eyes flicked to Touya, as if unsure he’d heard right.
Then he scratched his neck thoughtfully. “Yeah, ages actually. Long story. I’d tell it if I wasn’t so damn forgetful, but yeah... it’s been a long time.”

“Dr. I’s been really good for her,” he added. “They spend a lotta time together and stuff.”

Touya looked away again.
It all just made him tired.
The talk with Juniper was still fresh in his mind. The memory of Magne, now exhumed even more so.

People who chose themselves.
Who stood by their identity, their quirks.
It was complicated… so he emptied his head again.

A light smack on his back pulled him back to the present.

“Sooo,” Reno grinned, “we going to that Halloween party?”

Touya looked at him, expressionless. “No.”

“Booooring!”

The two men stared at each other with such wildly different energies that any outsider would’ve either burst out laughing or shaken their head in disbelief.
Touya’s annoyed, narrowed eyes and Reno’s ever-sparkling grin looked like something ripped from a bizarre sitcom.

Chapter Text

“It’s mainly about the patient in room 118, Ito Masaru.”
Hana’s voice was soft, almost cautious. She walked alongside Juniper, their steps quick, her eyes flitting nervously over the clipboard in her hands.

“The assigned therapist claims he’s making progress… but something just feels off.”

Juniper shot her a sidelong glance. Her eyes moved over the files Hana was shuffling through, many passages highlighted in yellow. A clear sign: her student was onto something, and it wouldn’t let her go.

“You observed two of his group sessions, didn’t you?” Hana asked, exhaling audibly.
“Did anything stand out to you?”

They were walking through one of the lower corridors of the facility. A long, cold hallway of concrete and steel. The rhythmic clicking of Juniper’s heels echoed across the tiles, accompanied by the soft hum of machines behind the walls.

“Apologies, I haven’t cross-referenced my notes with yours yet. That’s my oversight,” Juniper answered calmly, professionally. But her tone gave her away that her mind was already on Masaru.
“But yes, you’re right. Ito Masaru is playing a game. Most likely to convince Daddy dearest he’s ready to be discharged as soon as possible.”

She took the clipboard from Hana, reread the highlighted lines, and added a quick note.
“Your assessment is good. Very good, actually.”

Then she stopped abruptly, almost as if struck by a thought.

“What is it?” Hana stopped too, stepping closer and instinctively adjusting her glasses, as if trying to sharpen her own focus.
“Did something catch your eye?”

Juniper pointed to one of the notes.
“Masaru-san is wearing a Quirk suppressor. I want to make sure it’s functioning properly.”

Hana nodded immediately.
“I’d have to contact Lightly Labs to send a technician, but they’re swamped right now with that giant robot project.”

She took the clipboard back, scribbling a reminder in the margin.
“His Quirk was just… touching objects and giving them momentum, right?”

“‘Just,’” Juniper repeated with a faint undertone.
Then shook her head.
“Purely a precaution. I don’t want to take any risks. Wouldn’t be the first time someone downplayed their Quirk.”

They continued walking. Juniper held her keycard up to a side door’s lock. A soft beep, and the door opened into a sterile, brightly lit technical lab. Conveyor belts moved silently, transporting sample trays, sorting capsules, pipettes filling automatically.

Juniper stepped inside and let her gaze sweep the room.

“Behind that charming exterior lies a master manipulator. He’s intelligent. Controlled. And very aware of how he’s perceived.”

She turned to Hana, eyes assessing.

“I want you to keep observing him. And this time, not through the eyes of my assistant. But as an analyst.”

Her voice was quiet now, almost razor-sharp.
“I won’t allow him to sow chaos here. Or think he gets special privileges.”

Hana glanced behind her in confusion.
“Speaking of which… Why is Mr. Todoroki down here with us?”
She pointed over her shoulder.

Touya gave the younger woman a tired smile, then looked to Juniper, as if expecting her to offer a proper explanation herself.

With a playful smile, Juniper turned to them both, looking first at Hana, then at Touya, then back again.

“I confess,” she began with a faintly guilty tone, “I had to postpone a few dinners with Touya lately…” She made a deliberately regretful gesture with her hands.
“So I thought, if I don’t have time to eat, I might as well take him along on my tasks. Multitasking.”

Hana blinked, opening her mouth to protest, then narrowed her eyes slightly.
“That’s… almost certainly a data privacy violation.”

“Come on, Hana, what’s he gonna do? Touya’s stuck here with us forever,” Juniper countered smugly, shooting Touya a knowing smile.

Touya merely raised an eyebrow and looked at Hana, amused.
“Hm?”

Juniper chuckled softly and gave Hana a half-amused, half-challenging look.
“See? Perfect candidate.”

Hana sighed, pushed her glasses up, and mumbled,
“Fine, whatever.”

Touya said nothing more, but his body language spoke volumes. His usual tension-laced apathy had softened, his shoulders weren’t quite so slumped anymore.

Ever since Juniper had started dragging him around to inspections, the cafeteria, her office a few more times, or like today, to an underground lab full of medicine belts, his boredom had noticeably lessened.

She didn’t take him to therapy sessions, of course. But she was always open to questions.
And sometimes, she even had answers that weren’t boring.

“So,” Juniper began again, strolling toward one of the tall supply cabinets, its glass doors lined with medicine bottles. With a soft beep, she unlocked it with her chip card.

“Did you notice anything?” Her voice was calm, almost casual, but her eyes scanned the shelves with keen vigilance.

Hana stepped beside her boss, pulled a small index card from a side holder, and examined it more closely.
“Yes, actually. Just like you suspected, medications were swapped. We caught it early enough to fix it before any serious damage occurred.”

She skimmed the lines, her finger gliding over the entries.
“Here, this is it.” She tapped a name.
“Ayaka Haruna. She was responsible for distribution on the days in question.”

Juniper gave the card a brief glance, her thoughts already racing ahead. Then she examined the shelves again, as if she could read clues off the vials and packaging like a detective at a crime scene.

“Haruna-san is usually much more meticulous…” she murmured, more to herself than to Hana.

“A mistake? Maybe overworked?” Hana returned the card to its holder, then glanced toward Touya, who was absentmindedly staring around the room, somewhere between disinterest and hidden curiosity. When their eyes met, she frowned and gave him a pointed look, shaking her head clearly, as if to silently forbid him from snooping.

“I’m sure it wasn’t malicious,” Juniper said calmly, arms crossed. Her eyes seemed to pierce through the shelves, as if trying to assemble all the puzzle pieces in her mind.
“But maybe we’ll send her on vacation anyway. We can still talk to her afterward.”

“I’m just glad we caught it early.”

With a click and a short electronic melody, the cabinet sealed itself again. Juniper turned back to her assistant.
“Please request paid leave for Haruna and in the meantime, check this room daily to make sure everything runs properly.”

“Daily?!” Hana stared at her boss with wide, exhausted eyes. Her workload was already heavier than anyone else’s in the facility, barring Juniper herself.
But then she cleared her throat, pulled out her phone, and dutifully typed in a reminder.

Juniper watched them for a moment, her gaze caught on the little mascot dangling from Hana’s phone. A faint smirk tugged at her lips. Then she pulled out her own phone and checked her schedule.
“If you want, we could head to lunch now,” she offered casually. “I know it’s early, but I’ve got a meeting at six I can’t reschedule.”

Touya, now leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, gave a nonchalant shrug.
“Don’t care.”

“Perfect!” Juniper tucked her phone away, patted Hana on the shoulder, and smiled warmly.
“Well done. You make me a little prouder every day.”

Hana looked up, surprised, then beamed her exhaustion instantly forgotten.
“Thanks, June!”

—

Juniper let out a low whistle, clearly amused.
“No soba today?”
Her gaze lingered on Touya’s tray, then broke into a wide grin.

Touya didn’t respond. He simply rolled his eyes and walked beside her, as if answering would be a waste of energy.

“I’m glad to see our canteen’s culinary variety has finally won you over,” she teased.
With their trays clinking lightly, they strolled down the hallway toward the conservatory. But just before they reached the glass doors, Juniper came to a sudden stop.

“Shit,” she muttered to herself. “Totally forgot Dr. Yamaguchi’s group meets in there around this time.”
She stood still, clearly trying to come up with a backup plan, but for once, her usually razor-sharp mind seemed to hit a blank.

“We could go to the library,” Touya said, voice low and bored, but the crooked look he gave her said otherwise. He was clearly entertained by how this perfectly scheduled therapist could look so lost. And he kept finding it strangely human, how casually she swore.

Juniper blinked, then chuckled.
“Technically, food’s not allowed in there. But lucky you: you’re with me. I’ll see it right away if you spill anything.”

Touya snorted softly. That was his version of a smile.
Juniper gave a mock-curtsy, motioning toward the library doors.
“After you.”

“What about Masaru?” Touya asked offhandedly, as if it didn’t actually matter to him.

Juniper shot him a quick side glance before replying.
“Not my favorite patient.”
Her voice was clipped, almost too quick. Her eyes stayed fixed on the steaming curry on her tray, her pace never slowing.
“Had the pleasure yet?”

Touya leaned his shoulder against the wide glass door, holding it open for her.
“Nope.”
His eyes lingered on her as she passed.

The library was bathed in soft light. Pale wood, gentle rays spilling through the tall window panels. You’d think it was broad daylight outside, though the sky had long since turned a wintery grey.
In the center, the space opened into a multilevel area, every floor visible from where they stood and an open lounge surrounded by balconies lined with bookshelves.

A librarian stood behind the scanner, absorbed in his work, but when he spotted them and especially the trays, he opened his mouth, ready to protest.
Until he saw Juniper.

His expression changed instantly. A quiet nod of recognition, as if she were a rare guest of importance. Not even Touya’s ever-present scowl could dim the silent respect in the air.

Juniper nodded back politely and walked on.
Touya didn’t spare the man a glance. His eyes were scanning the room, looking for somewhere secluded, somewhere quiet.

“If it were up to me, I wouldn’t have taken him in.”
Juniper’s voice was calm, but her tone had hardened. Touya glanced at her briefly, unsurprised she was still on the topic.

“The son of a telecom tycoon. Treated his staff like garbage. One woman he harassed ended up taking her own life.”
Her voice stayed even, but there was a hiss behind it. Her eyes darkened.

They finally found a quiet corner and settled at a small table. Juniper set her tray down and sat without hesitation. Touya dropped into the seat across from her, picked up his spoon, and started eating.
“Funny how money buys you just enough room to wriggle out of everything. No real evidence pinned it on him.”

“Well,” Juniper said, poking her curry with her chopsticks as if trying to bury something unpleasant, “Daddy made a few calls to our dear mayor. And the mayor, in turn, gave me a ‘strong recommendation’ to admit him.”

Touya raised a brow ever so slightly.
“Looks like we’ve got something in common.”
His tone was dry, sarcastic, a subtle jab. Of course, he meant his own privilege, the one that landed him here instead of a prison cell.

Juniper’s face darkened. For a second, she was silent. Then she shot him an exaggeratedly annoyed look.
“No. You’re my guest. I want you here.”
It sounded offended and yet like it genuinely mattered to her that he knew that.

“I’m worried he’s going to stir up some trouble.”
Her voice dropped to a near whisper, more to herself than to him.
“I need to keep a closer eye on him.”

Touya didn’t respond. He just kept eating, letting the words drift past.
He knew that tone, the one where she slipped into a stream of thought, talking more to herself than anyone else. And he didn’t mind the quiet.

Still, he said, “So you actually hand-pick who gets to rot in here?”

She filtered his words and replied while taking her first bite.
“Yeah, I look at everyone who gets submitted. Sure, I get recommendations…”
Her gaze turned flat.
“Or bribes.”
She pointed her chopsticks at him.
“Not you.”

“But yeah. I try to figure out who’s really right for this program.
I wish I could say we save everyone that comes through our doors. But that would be a lie.”

He let out a rough laugh, a dark, guttural sound more mocking than amused.
“What? You can’t save us all?”
A twisted grin spread across his lips, eyes narrowed to slits. His hair had grown long enough now that he kept it tied back in a loose ponytail.

She took his sarcasm in stride, like always.
“Sorry, Touya. I’m no hero. Never wanted to be.
But you, you used to want that, if I remember right.”

“Fuck you.”
His favorite response whenever she got too close.

She laughed softly, clearly satisfied with the reaction. Then silence settled between them again as they both returned to their food.

“You know…” she said casually, fishing a piece of broccoli from the curry sauce, “technically, I’m only here because Daddy decided so, too.”

“Well then... Did you at least make Daddy proud?”
Touya’s voice dripped with venom, his grin dangerously wide.

Juniper shook her head slowly, no bitterness in her tone.
“Probably the least, out of all my siblings.”

“And still you’re the one running this whole damn place.”
His voice was thick with sarcasm.
“Congrats.”

Juniper gave him a measured, knowing smile. Textbook behavior. The way someone avoided talking about their own past, while constantly scraping close to the topic anyway.

“Are you the only quirkless one, or were there more disappointments in your family?”
He didn’t even bother to look up from his food.

Juniper leaned back slightly and nodded once, cool and composed.
“Whole family’s quirkless.”

He raised an eyebrow in disbelief, she didn’t meet his gaze.

“Just goes to show how far money and connections can get you in this world.”
Her eyes scanned the bookshelf beside her, picking out spines at random as if trying to spot a familiar name.

For a moment, she considered staying on the topic. Maybe, just maybe, he’d let something slip about his own family.
But she made a conscious decision against it.
One “fuck you” was enough for today.
And she knew exactly how easily Touya could shut down, like a door slammed in your face.

“Your hair’s gotten pretty long.”
The comment came lightly as she set her chopsticks aside and switched to a spoon, scooping up a larger bite of curry and rice.

“We actually have a hairdresser who stops by twice a week.”

“Hm.”
His reply was little more than a grunt of disinterest.

“If you want, I can cut it for you,” she offered with a small smile, not looking at him.

Touya furrowed his brows, casting her a sideways glare, that perfect blend of irritation and half-lidded eyes.
“What the fuck.”

“We could dye it black again.”
Completely unfazed, she continued.
“I told you before, it really suited you.”

She repeated the compliment from their earlier conversation, only this time with a softer tone, almost flattering.

Touya slowly rested his head on one hand, as if he couldn’t believe the words coming out of her mouth.

“Maybe I’ll find a piercer too. Get your ears redone.”
She thoughtfully tapped her chin with her finger, though she was clearly watching his every twitch out of the corner of her eye, thoroughly entertained.

“All we’re missing now are the scars,” Touya muttered, trying to twist her words into something absurd.
It was his game. Disarm her. Overwhelm her with cynicism.

“True,” she said without missing a beat.
“Then the look would be complete.”

He didn’t move. But a tired, mocking smile curled at the corners of his lips.
His eyes, though, stayed narrow. Guarded. As if bracing for her next move.

And it didn’t take long.

“Do you miss the way you used to look?”

Touya exhaled through his nose, the kind of breath someone takes when they know they’re being pulled into a conversation they don’t want to have.

“People say I look better now,” he muttered flatly.

“Maybe they do... but what do you think?”
Her tone was calm, sincere.

He frowned. Thought about brushing it off.
He wanted to leave. To dump his half-eaten meal, vanish into his room, shut the world out again.

But instead, he said,
“No one ever asked me.”
The words were rough, low, almost a growl.

Juniper offered him a gentle, understanding smile.
“Exactly. No one asked you.”
And she meant it. He could hear it in her voice.

His whole body tensed.
Her words hit too close, carried too much weight. His jaw clenched, shoulders locked, eyes narrowing like he was trying to block the world out.

He felt trapped.
Like the walls were inching closer, the air thinning with every second.

He just wanted out.
Out. Now.

But then… he took a deep breath.

And something in him let go. Not a lot. Just a little.
Enough to ease the pressure in his chest.
Enough to keep him in his seat.

“Another thing they took without asking,” she continued, not looking at him directly.

He blinked. Focused on the two plastic bottles sitting between them.

“I can’t even imagine the pain you must’ve been in, trapped in that capsule,” Juniper murmured, her gaze following his to the bottles.

“The photos alone were enough to tell me how unbearable it must’ve been.
Hooked up to all those machines… every damn minute.”
She shook her head slowly.
“And they kept them running. Against your will.”

“Because the old man wanted to talk at me.”

She nodded again, finally letting her gaze drift up to his face.
“Yeah. He needed to process his guilt.
And you couldn’t fight back.
Had to listen to all of it, powerless.
That’s messed up.”

Touya’s head tilted slightly. His lips parted as if to speak and then that crooked grin was back.

“Oho,” he scoffed. “And here I thought I was just here to be shipped off on a redemption arc. Make peace with Daddy dearest.”

He watched her closely now, testing her limits, waiting to see if she’d defend Endeavor.

“Pah.”
She snorted, louder than before.

“You don’t owe anyone forgiveness.”
Her expression shifted with a flicker of arrogance in her eyes now.
“I’m the last person who’ll ever say forgiveness is the first step to healing.”

She shook her head with a soft, bitter chuckle.
“Forgiveness isn’t mandatory. It’s an option.
And sometimes, the healthiest response is no contact at all.”

Touya’s tired eyes widened just a fraction, enough to show his surprise.
He opened his mouth ready to throw something sarcastic at her.

But nothing came.

Nothing except the one sentence that always sat heavy in his throat:

“Brought this shit on myself. When I burned everything down.”

“Maybe,” she said gently.
“But from that moment on, they took away every choice you had.
Kept you alive under conditions no human should endure.
Then forced that girl to heal you and once they were done, they locked you away for another ten years.”

A pale-haired girl with a horn flashed through his mind.
He’d forgotten her name, maybe never knew it.
But the memory of that bizarre day a decade ago hadn’t faded.

She stood at the capsule.
His mother beside her, crying, shaking.

Surrounded by scientists. Cops. Heroes. Retired heroes. Onlookers.

They powered down the machine.

His breath had rattled like metal scraping metal.
Two men held him upright as the girl placed her small hand against his chest.

If he hadn’t lived through it, he’d think it was a fever dream.

But her touch had - impossibly - rewound time.

His bones cracked and realigned.

His skin regrew like living fabric.

His organs swelled with energy, as if ready to sustain two lives.

“Completely fucked-up shit,” he laughed darkly, shaking his head as if trying to expel the memory.

Juniper smiled softly, though it clearly cost her effort.
But she was grateful, even if it was just a coping mechanism, that he could talk about it. Even joke about it.

“That healers like that even exists…” he murmured.
Then his eyes sharpened again, filled with sarcastic clarity.
“Cheers to rich daddies and their fancy connections.”

Juniper picked up her plastic bottle and motioned to his.

“To our filthy rich, unhealthy families.”

Touya raised his own bottle.

They clinked together with a quiet thunk.

Chapter Text

“Hatsuyuki!”
A nurse’s excited voice echoed down the long corridor of the clinic, followed by hurried footsteps. It didn’t take long before the large window front of the common room was crowded with curious patients.

The first snow of the year was finally falling soft and bright, almost magical. Even the tiredest eyes lifted toward the sky, where the white flakes drifted and danced in the air.

It was the perfect setup for a real winter’s day: the ground was dry enough for the snow to settle. Soon, everything would be white. Maybe even enough for a small walk, to leave a few footprints in the fresh snow.

Hana sat in the conservatory with a colleague. Their conversation trailed off as the commotion reached them, and both turned to look outside. For a moment, they watched in silence as the first flakes gathered on benches, bushes, and rooftops around the courtyard.

Hana pulled out her phone, took a quick photo of the courtyard slowly turning white, and sent it to Juniper.
It didn’t take long before two small blue checkmarks appeared.
Seen.

Hana smiled faintly, locked the screen, and slipped the device back into her pocket.
Juniper probably wouldn’t reply, but she loved snow, and that alone would surely bring her a bit of quiet joy.

---

Juniper was bent over her documents, her brow furrowed. Both hands braced against the desk, fingers buried deep in her hair. The gentle snowfall outside her window went completly unnoticed because her full attention was locked on the puzzle in front of her.

Ayaka Haruna.
The nurse responsible, among other things, for medication distribution. She had been temporarily suspended, then interviewed to determine whether she was aware that she had been mixing up medication over several days.

Juniper massaged her warm scalp with her fingertips.
Haruna-san had seemed genuinely shocked by the evidence shown to her. Her deep bows and tear-choked apologies all pointed to a genuine mistake not malice or an accident.

She had promised repeatedly to be twice as careful in the future. That it would never happen again.

And while Juniper knew that mistakes could happen, she was unpleasantly surprised when the exact same error occurred again the very next day.

Fortunately, Hana had checked the next day’s medication list that evening, just as Juniper had ordered her to. Something had simply felt off.
And she’d been right.

But when they tryed confronted Haruna again, she only radiated gratitude for the second chance she’d been given. Conviction, motivation, even something close to euphoria as she assured them she’d do better.

Nothing in her demeanor felt false. No sign of deceit or ill intent. It was as if she truly didn’t know what she was doing.

Juniper sighed softly, pulled her fingers from her hair, and let her hands drop onto the papers before her. She was glad the matter was still contained. Only Hana knew.
Well: Hana, the security guard who checked the cameras… and Touya.
Touya knew too.

She flipped through her notes again. None of the patients had an obvious mind-control Quirk. And if they did, they’d already have a tidy little suppressor implanted by now.

A quiet rustle filled the room as she turned page after page, scanning through the list of staff members. Her finger traced slowly down the names as though her instincts might give her a sign. Then it stopped.
Dr. Clark Johnson.

Juniper drew in a deep breath, straightened up, and forced her thoughts to focus. Johnson, the man she’d never wanted on her team. The man who was only here because her father had pushed him in.

He didn’t fit into the carefully selected staff she had assembled. No remarkable expertise. No spark of motivation. No unique approach. Not even a particularly useful Quirk.
He could fold laundry.

No joke.
With one swipe of his fingers over a garment, it folded neatly on its own, stacking itself perfectly. A delightfully useless talent, something human hands already did well enough. Even the time saved was negligible.

But the fact that Johnson came directly from her father’s network was enough to make him dangerous. Juniper knew her father’s methods all too well.
And so, Johnson had become an unpredictable variable in her mind.

Was she simply too proud to accept the man’s presence or was there more to it?
She couldn’t say for sure.
But her gut told her he belonged at the top of her suspect list.

Her phone lit up.
Automatically, she reached for it without checking who it was from. It was a message from Hana
a photo.

Juniper’s gaze lingered longer than necessary on the image.
The snow-covered courtyard. Gentle flakes drifting down over the benches and trees, painting a quiet and still scene.

A smile tugged at her lips.

So that explained why the clinic beneath her office had felt so unusually alive.

She leaned back in her chair and slowly turned it toward the window.
Soon, the first patients would head out throwing snowballs, fooling around and laughing like children.

And for a moment, everything felt lighter.
Then she rose from her chair, stacked her documents neatly, and slid them into a drawer.

Before the fallen snow was trampled flat by countless footsteps, she wanted to see this little natural spectacle for herself.

Juniper stepped to the built-in wardrobe, pulled out her black winter coat, and brushed her hand over the long-unused fabric before throwing it over her shoulders. Inside the door was a narrow mirror, she glanced at her reflection, freeing her hair from the collar so it fell softly over her shoulders and the hood.

Normally, she would have taken the elevator. But as her office door clicked shut behind her, it felt right to take the stairs this time.

She had only gone down a few steps when she heard another door open below. Leaning over the railing, she looked to see who it was and smiled softly when she recognized him.
“Going to see the snow too?”

Bored, blue eyes lifted to meet hers, offering no verbal reply. But she didn’t need one. His dark-blue jacket said enough.

Juniper nodded satisfied.
“I think I know where we can get a better view also somewhere quieter.”
She gestured for him to follow.
“Come on.”

A short, throaty hum was his only reaction. “Hm.” And he followed her.
They kept climbing upward. Rooms he might never have seen before. Touya didn’t walk right beside her but left a few steps between them.

At the top of the stairwell, Juniper pulled her keycard from her pocket and unlocked the windowless steel door. She pushed it open, it was heavier than she’d expected and a rush of cold winter air hit them in the face.

The blinding white of the snow greeted them like a silent portal. Juniper stepped out cautiously.

Before them lay the untouched roof of the clinic, a flawless white expanse. Behind them, only their own footprints.

Juniper walked further out, her steps crunching softly in the snow until she reached the edge of the roof. A tall steel fence ran along the perimeter, rimmed with frost and sprinkled with a thin layer of snow. She placed her hands carefully on the bars and leaned forward a little, taking in the view of the courtyard below. From up here, everything looked smaller as if the clinic itself had wrapped a white coat around its shoulders, just to enjoy the moment.

“In Japan, the first snow is called Hatsuyuki,” she said at last, her eyes still turned downward. “It stands for a new beginning. For quiet promises. People used to believe that if you saw it without feeling cold, it would bring good luck. And if you made a wish while it was falling, it would come true.”
Her voice was calm, almost textbook-like, yet something personal lingered in it as if she herself had never dared to make a wish during the first snow.

Touya stood a few steps behind her, his weight shifted lazily onto one leg. He hadn’t moved to stand beside her, nor did he look down. His gaze drifted over his shoulder, outward, in the opposite direction. Away from the courtyard. Away from her.

Out there stretched a white, snow-covered landscape of hills and bare trees, and a narrow strip of road cutting through the cold like a forgotten line.
It had been weeks since he’d been transferred to this facility. And this exact moment was the first time the world beyond its walls had shown itself again not through a screen, not through a window, but through real sky and real air.

His gaze stayed fixed. The thought of escaping was just a fleeting spark like a twitching image in his mind. The drop before him, and the lack of firepower to catch himself, kept him from thinking any further.
He said nothing.

And Juniper kept speaking, as if she hadn’t noticed that he was already somewhere else entirely.

“The ancients believed that souls born in the snow take longer to let warmth in,” she continued, half in thought, half to him. “Maybe because they had to learn to survive the cold first.”

Snow settled quietly on her coat.

Touya closed his eyes for a moment. Of course she knew his birthday was in January, and she was making dumb metaphors again.

Juniper let her gaze linger on the courtyard as the snow kept falling, steady and calm. She could feel the chill creeping into her coat, but she made no move to step back. Only a small shiver betrayed her.

“I used to get sick a lot in winter,” she said softly, as if speaking to the snow more than to him. “I just loved spending too much time out in it.”
A bitter smile flickered across her lips like a memory of good times and melancholic ones.

Then her eyes returned to the courtyard below, where slow movement was beginning to ripple through the white. Patients in thick coats were stepping outside one by one. Some hesitated, others rushed out as if newly freed. They laughed, lifted their hands to the sky, caught snowflakes on their tongues, some built clumsy snowmen, others fell backward and moved their arms beside them, shaping crooked-winged snow angels.

A genuine smile spread across Juniper’s face.
“You know,” she said, breathing in deeply, “it’s kind of comforting to realize everyone turns into a kid again when it snows.”
Content, she kept watching the spectacle, but judging by her sharp eyes, she was also scanning for possible snowball fights, as if she could stop them from above.

A few seconds of silence passed. Then she sensed movement beside her.
Touya had stepped closer. He was now standing next to her, hands buried in the pockets of his jacket for warmth, his gaze finally lowered toward the scene below.

He studied the tiny figures, the laughter barely audible with the chaos in the snow.
“Well,” he murmured, his voice rough and low, “admiring your kingdom, oh queen of the lunatics?”
A crooked pull touched his lips almost a smile.

Juniper shot him a sidelong grin. By now, that nickname had become his thing for her.

Touya shrugged, not looking at her. “You’re up here while everyone down there follows your rules.” His tone carried that usual hint of mockery.

But instead of firing back, she stayed quiet, her gaze fixed on the snowy courtyard.

“Leadership isn’t an easy job,” she said finally more to herself than to him. “It’s not just about giving orders or standing at the top. It’s about taking responsibility, even when the choices are hard. It’s about being there for others, even when you’re at your limit.”

She turned slightly toward him, searching his eyes.
“You had the unique experience of being commanded by both a superhero and the most infamous villain. You got to see how two powers led from opposite ends.” She rubbed her hands together to shape warmth into her fingertips, then went on.
“Endeavor was a powerful hero. He ran the most successful agency, led heroes, saved countless lives.” She didn’t even think to refer to him as Touya’s father but before she could continue, he cut her off.

Touya laughed bitterly. It was a short and sharp sound. “He was a master at telling people what to do.”

She let his words settle, their weight heavy with emotion.
Then she nodded slowly. “Leadership also requires empathy. The ability to see others, to recognize their needs and support them. Without that, you’re just a commander.” There was an almost admonishing note in her voice, as if she were reminding herself as much as him.

In her mind, a vague image of Touya’s childhood flickered. Pieced together from reports, from his fragmented remarks and from stories his mother had shared. Touya’s relationship with authority began in pain.
The pain of expectation, to be precise.
His father hadn’t just been strict; he had been ideology made flesh. And Touya hadn’t merely suffered under him, he’d been conditioned. To shrink, to obey, to fight and to burn.

Later, with the League, he’d never truly obeyed either, not really under Shigaraki. You could say he was a kind of cooperative phantom.
He got jobs done so the work was finished, but rarely with conviction and preferably when it aligned with his own agenda.

Even after All For One joined, that hadn’t changed much, according to the files. Juniper had to admit, she had countless questions about that man since almost no public records about him existed.
Now, however, she had someone by her side who had been closer to the tyrant than most.

“Forgive my curiosity,” she began, “but what was the famous All For One like as a superior?”
Her tone carried both scholarly interest and a teasing edge.

And that, especially the latter, was what Touya both hated and liked about her more with each passing day.
Even if he’d never admit it.

He watched her closely, studying how her expression and gestures shifted with her thoughts, not to analyze, but to brace himself for her games. With a low, guttural sound, he finally spoke.
“The guy was like my old man. Just with a mask. Same shit, more rhetoric.”

Irritated, Touya nudged some snow aside with his foot. “Really thought he was God. Believed he could control everyone however he wanted. Turned Shigaraki into an even uglier puppet than he already was.”
He could feel the anger boiling up and clicked his tongue in annoyance.

Juniper tucked her hands into her pockets, listening intently. “Did he ever force you into anything?”

The white-haired man beside her froze.
And not from the cold, but from memory.
Something he thought he’d already forgotten.
All For One had wanted his body. Endeavor’s son’s body. And if Touya hadn’t run away after his coma, maybe he would’ve gotten it.
Maybe Touya would’ve taken Shigaraki’s place.

Juniper sensed the sudden shift in his posture and took a gentle step closer, no longer facing the courtyard, but him entirely.
Her eyes studied his, seeing that distant flicker of a memory that should’ve long since faded. Then she spoke softly, as if afraid to scare him off.
“He didn’t just looked for strong allies. He was looking for the broken ones. The disappointed. The forgotten. And he made them believe they’ve finally been seen. But what he really saw was their usefulness.”

He looked at her coldly, meeting her steady gaze. “You think you’re a better ringleader?” he spat. After all, she too surrounded herself with outcasts and made her living off them.

Seconds passed in silence, and his eyes narrowed into disapproval.

She hesitated, this wasn’t a conversation for polite phrases that would only make him shut down further. Then she answered honestly.
“That’s hard to judge for oneself.” She drew in a slow breath, as if she had to carry the question through her ribs before she could answer it.

Snow had already gathered on the hood at her neck. She lowered her gaze, not to turn away, but to find the right answer within.
The past weeks had demanded decisions of her that were anything but easy.
A nurse who mixed up medication.
An arrogant patient who thought he could buy his way out of the clinic with money and influence.
Several projects rejected by the city.
And the fragile balance of daily operations she had to maintain.

None of those tasks had easy answers. Each was a fate resting in her hands, decisions that allowed no second opinion.
She was the one who had to make them.

The challenges weighed on her shoulders, carried by no one but herself. And even though she tried not to show it, the burden was always there.

But she would bear it steadfastly, with everything she had.
“I make choices that I can only hope are the right ones. I carry responsibility that no one else can take from me.”

She looked at him with a calm and resolute clarity.
“I try to give the people here something that’s been taken from them too often: dignity, trust, a sense of meaning. But I’m not infallible. I’ve made mistakes. I’ll make new ones. The only thing I can promise is that I’ll never stop trying to do better.”

Then she lifted her chin slightly, not in defiance, but like someone who’s learned to live with doubt without letting it hold her back.
“I’m here.
Every day.
And I don’t run.
Ever.”

Touya didn’t answer right away. The snow drifted quietly between them as his gaze lingered on her.

She had spoken without excuses, without justification. Just in that calm, upright way that showed more strength than any leader he’d ever known.

His eyes rested on her, narrow and still, but the hardness in them was slowly fading. Something in her made him pause.

Maybe it was the snow gathering relentlessly on her shoulders, and how she didn’t bother to brush it off.
Maybe it was the way her words didn’t fall to impress, but simply to tell the truth.
And maybe it was only then he really noticed it.

The way she carried herself.
How elegant her movements were, even when she was tired.
How much strength there was in her resolve.

Not just as a doctor.
Not just as a leader.
But as a woman.

He looked at her not judging nor analyzing.
Just... seeing.
Then he let out a dry snort, rolled his eyes and glanced up at the white-gray sky that refused to stop snowing, before his gaze returned to her.
“Alright,” he muttered, “we’ll see.”

He pulled his hands from his pockets, crossed his arms over his chest, and turned fully toward her.
“So, what’s the next royal decree of the queen of the lunatics?”
That same mocking tone again. That crooked grin. Always provoking her. Always watching to see how she’d respond.

Juniper’s smile came before her voice did. That confident little curve that always appeared when he threw her a new challenge.
Almost as if to say: Watch me.

But instead of answering, she slowly lifted her hand.
Her fingers brushed lightly over his snow-dusted hair, barely more than a whisper of a touch.
As soft and fleeting as the wind moving across a sheet of snow.

“Your hair’s gotten so long…”
Her voice was warm. “You can barely tell where the snow ends and you begin. You could almost pass for a Yuki Onna.”

Touya didn’t move when her fingers touched his hair. Only his breath caught for a moment. He could’ve turned away, could’ve thrown out a remark.
But instead, he just let it happen.

His eyes, heavy-lidded, watched her with quiet scrutiny. “Tch.”

“My next official act as queen of the lunatics,” she declared with a faint grin, “is to give you a haircut.”

Chapter Text

She rubbed her temples, as if the touch might offer at least a trace of relief to the pounding in her head. Not even the third painkiller brought any ease, nor did it manage to force the inner chaos into any kind of order.
With the tip of her index finger, she tapped repeatedly against the cardboard packaging of the pills, as if her impatience might finally pressure them into pulling themselves together and working.

Her desk had long since been overflowing with tasks. Stacks of paper, reports, deadlines. Everything loomed in front of her like an approaching storm, yet the headache held her in a relentless grip. The commotion from the floors below was louder than any lively Christmas party she could remember.
Or maybe… today she was simply weak.

She liked that thought even less than the pain itself, so she kept tapping on the box, almost like a silent threat aimed at the pharmaceutical product. With every click of her fingernails, she became more aware of what a terrible example she was setting in that moment for all the patients struggling with addiction. And yet, she couldn’t withstand the pressure. She swallowed more than the recommended daily dose.

With a sudden motion, she pushed herself up. The chair screeched across the floor. She wasn’t going to sit around waiting for improvement. Then it would be fresh air. Water. Movement. After all, she couldn’t keep giving herself advice she refused to follow.

Juniper pulled her coat on with determination, clipped her electronic key card to it, and left her office to take the elevator.

The Christmas season had reached its peak. Visitor numbers were at their limit, the wards full of voices and life. Juniper had pushed back against limiting visiting hours. Not when family visits helped her patients more than any therapy session. Even if it meant her own condition suffered severely.
But she would rise above it.
At least, that was what she kept telling herself.

Inside the elevator, she gripped the handrails and stared at the floor. The motion sickness was merciless. Why hadn’t she just taken the stairs? Another reproach to add to the list. One more for the collection.

When the doors opened, no one would notice anything. No one was allowed to suspect that she wasn’t in absolute control. In her head, she counted down in sync with the elevator signal. Three, two, one...

Bing.

The doors slid open. Juniper stepped out wearing her usual professional smile. Immediately, her gaze searched for familiar faces. She greeted staff with a slight nod and scanned the area. Hana was nowhere to be seen.

Too bad.

Laughter and cheerful conversation drifted out of the visitor rooms, and even though that very surge of festive emotion was probably largely responsible for her miserable state, she sent a smile in their direction.

The pressure in her head throbbed down into her neck and burned across her shoulders like straps pulled too tight. They all deserved to spend a pleasant Christmas together, and Juniper had discreetly stationed enough security staff to ensure that every visitor could spend time with their loved ones without fear.

Juniper busied her hands by slipping them into her coat pockets and headed toward the cafeteria with upright posture. A glass of water and a small bite would perk her right back up, she told herself.
She just had to survive until then, she joked dully in her mind.

The hallway windows were sparsely decorated with Christmas ornaments welcoming the approaching holiday. And beyond the glass, the snow-covered courtyard invited one to embrace the season’s quiet reflection.

The headache was intense.
But she would not lose her composure. She would not let it show. She would not allow insignificant signals from her nervous system to defeat her.

Without truly meaning to, Juniper’s steps slowed slightly, and her breathing began to falter as well, issuing subtle warnings. She felt something tightening inside her, a kind of alarm she had learned to ignore.

The cafeteria doors were only a few steps away now. Juniper forced herself to keep her eyes on them. In her head, she began counting each step, calculating the remaining distance.

But something was wrong.

The floor beneath her feet seemed to shift. It had to be the unreliable ground, not her.
She was too strong to fall.

Her tongue suddenly felt too large, her heart pounding irregularly against her ribs. A dull roaring filled her ears, a sound that promised to grow louder, familiar noise reaching out as if to claim her.

She blinked rapidly.
The outline of the door distorted, danced for a fleeting moment before her eyes.

"Pull yourself together", she thought. "You’re almost..."

Suddenly, her knees failed her. Only slightly, but enough to throw off her step.
The world spun too fast, her eyes fluttered, and her vision narrowed into a tunnel of light and numbness.

But the floor never came.

Instead, strong arms caught her, firm and unyielding. A warm grip wrapped around her, far from gentle, but exactly what she needed to avoid getting an intimate look at the cold stone tiles.

“Are you too stupid to walk or what?” came dryly by her ear. It was Touya’s cool voice, edged with narrow mockery that failed to completely hide a hint of concern.

For a moment, she said nothing. Her fingers had unconsciously clenched into the fabric of his sleeve. His closeness was suddenly overwhelming. His body heat flickered beside her, his arm tight around her waist.

And then she felt his breath at her neck.

Juniper’s gaze snapped up to him.
His eyes were so close.
That famous cold blue of Endeavor’s, known from television.
No.
Touya’s unmistakably burning turquoise, trying to pierce straight through her.

Suddenly, energy surged through her limbs. Not born of recovery, but of wounded pride.

With a sharp movement, she pulled free of his now-loosened grip. She straightened abruptly, almost too fast for her circulation, then forced her shoulders back and lifted her chin slightly. Her expression was neutral again.
As neutral as she could manage in that moment.

Her gaze darted down the hallway.
No one.
It was empty.
Thank God.

Her eyes shot toward the cafeteria entrance.
No one there either.
No one had seen her.
No one had witnessed that embarrassing moment.

Juniper took a deep breath to steady herself completely.

Then she lowered her gaze and glared disapprovingly at the floor, as if it were personally responsible for her stumble. Her brows furrowed as she searched the hallway for any indication of what she could have tripped over.

The floor offered no answers, so she turned back to Touya as if nothing had happened.

He was watching her with wary eyes, uncertain whether to address her suspicious behavior or simply accept it. He chose to wait in silence.

Meanwhile, Juniper noticed with delight how well his new haircut suited him.
“Mhm, your hair looks excellent on you. I did a good job,” she said.
When she had asked the barber a few days earlier to leave the scissors behind so she could work on Touya herself, she’d worried for a second that her efforts wouldn’t be good enough.

But now, seeing the result, she liked it very much. Even if it had been too short at first, and they had both stared at themselves in the mirror of the salon room, agreeing it was too short. Now it had grown into exactly the perfect length.

Touya found the compliment, along with her lingering, satisfied gaze, a bit much. He clicked his tongue against his teeth.
“Tsk. A little self-absorbed again, huh?”
He crossed his arms but let his gaze sweep over her once more, assessing. Her sudden weakness was suspicious. He was convinced that if he’d been a second later at her side, she would have collapsed forward onto the floor without even attempting to catch herself.

“If you don’t get recognition from others, you should give it to yourself,” she replied, then added, “Actually, you should always do that. You too.”

She nodded toward the cafeteria, indicating her original destination.
“Have you eaten yet?”

He shook his head. “No,” he lied.

He had eaten. But her collapse wouldn’t leave his mind. She hadn’t even noticed that he had rushed out of the cafeteria to catch her. Even if he’d never admit it, he wanted to keep an eye on her. So he followed her as she turned back toward the dining hall.

The cafeteria was also decorated for Christmas, and the kitchen was working at full capacity. Not only patients and staff needed to be fed, but the steady influx of visitors as well.

Unfortunately, the cinnamon-heavy scent of cookies and other festive spices was part of the room’s atmosphere. That very smell once again aggravated Juniper’s pounding headache.

One collapse is enough for this year, she thought firmly, letting her gaze sweep through the dining hall as she subtly analyzed those eating. The crowd consisted of all kinds of people, mostly unfamiliar faces.

But before she could move toward the counter, a loud argument tore through the festive mood of the room.

A chair toppled over with a clatter. Someone was shoved roughly aside. For a split second, the entire room seemed to duck instinctively, as if everyone knew exactly what was about to follow.

Juniper spun around. Two men. Patients. She recognized them immediately.
Daichi, tall and strong, his usually calm gaze now flickering. And Shouta, shorter, stockier, known for his impulsive temper.

The words hurled back and forth between them were barely intelligible, but thick with venom.

“You always get special treatment just because your family...”

“What are you talking about? I get just as few visitors as you do!”

“Like hell! I saw who hugged you earlier. You think no one here notices that?”

Guests at the surrounding tables froze in shock.

Some stood up, pulling their children closer. Others, especially some of the younger patients, seemed almost encouraged by the rising tension, as if they’d forgotten they were in a rehabilitation facility, not a movie.

The room had already been charged with emotion from the start, but now it suddenly felt too small for all that energy. Too small for Juniper to simply swallow her exhaustion. She swallowed hard, a knot forming in her throat.

Her gaze swept the scene critically. No sign of security. How was that possible? At a moment like this, when it was obvious the situation was about to tip?

Was no one there? All in common rooms, the garden, too far away? It made no sense.

Beside her, she felt Touya shift slightly forward, as if ready to act. His shoulders tensed, and from the corner of her eye she saw his jaw tighten.

“This is staged,” he murmured quietly, almost to himself, but with a seriousness that carried weight. His eyes were already scanning every corner of the room, searching for a hidden trigger. Or a third person about to join in.

He was about to take another step forward when Juniper calmly raised her hand.
“Let me handle this,” she said, her voice calm but firm.
She looked at him, leaving no room for discussion.
“This is my job.”

Touya stopped. Not because he was convinced, but because the force of her determination caught him off guard. There was something impressive about it.

Juniper stepped forward. Her gait was controlled. No one would have guessed that she’d nearly collapsed just minutes earlier.
Her eyes swept the room again, still no sign of security. Something was very wrong here.

She felt eyes on her back. Patients, visitors and small children peeking over table edges. Some patients whispered. One even pulled out his phone, as if trying to record it all, like this was some kind of reality show.

As she approached the two men, their bodies were nearly pressed together. Sweat glistened on Shouta’s forehead. Daichi’s face was flushed, his hands clenched into fists.

And yet, something about the entire scene felt wrong. Artificial. Touya was right.
A fight, yes. But one that was too loud. Too perfectly placed.
And why now? Why without guards?

A barely perceptible weight lifted from the shoulders of those present. The furrows on some guests’ brows smoothed. Hands that had moments ago nervously toyed with glasses or cutlery came to rest. And even between Daichi and Shouta, the first hint of restraint crept in.

Juniper had activated her Quirk.

“Daichi,” she began, gently but firmly raising her voice between the two of them.

Everyone heard her. All eyes turned to her.

“I know what it feels like to be overlooked,” she said. Her voice was clear as water. “What it’s like when it seems as though someone else always gets more. More love. More attention. More luck.”

Daichi blinked. Shouta took an almost imperceptible step back.

“I know how cramped it can become inside us when we feel like we’re coming up short and no one notices.” She let her gaze drift briefly through the room, meeting the eyes of individual patients and visitors. Her words weren’t just meant for the two of them; she was speaking to everyone.

“But do you know what I believe?” she continued. “I believe we humans are better than that. We are more than our envy, more than our anger. And above all: more than the moment in which we lose control.”

An expectant silence settled over the room, showing just how closely everyone was listening.

She took a small step forward, just far enough to stand between them, not to separate them, but to connect them. Then, very deliberately, she placed a hand on Shouta’s shoulder. Her touch promised safety and her aura was like a calm current, cooling boiling heat.

“You have the right to feel unfairly treated. And you have the right to be heard. But violence does not bring justice. It only takes more.”

Shouta swallowed. His shoulders sank slightly.

She turned to Daichi.

“You don’t have to prove anything to anyone. Strength shows itself in how willing we are to stay calm when everything inside us is screaming. And right now, you still have a choice.”

Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the mood in the room shifted completely. The tension faded and bodies relaxed. Someone let out an audible breath while an older visitor nodded quietly, impressed.

Daichi lowered his gaze to the floor and muttered an indistinct “Sorry.”
Shouta gave a brief nod, seeming almost ashamed of the commotion.

Juniper paused for a moment longer, then she turned to the crowd, who waited in near-programmed silence.

“Thank you for staying calm. Thank you for holding the space. This is a place where we heal together, not through punishment, but through compassion.”

Touya, who had been observing the whole scene, paid little attention to the people around them. Once the situation had settled, his focus lingered instead on the subtle trembling of her hand as she walked back toward him.

He greeted her with a nod acknowledging the near escalation, and a look that wordlessly asked what exactly she had just done.

“Aggression usually grows out of perceived powerlessness,” she explained. “When you give someone the feeling of being seen and understood, you dismantle that powerlessness. Violence is rarely the true goal... it’s just a means to feel some kind of control at all.”

She glanced at the two patients now seated at separate tables, then at the room’s noticeably lighter atmosphere.

“I gave them what they actually wanted: acknowledgment.
A stage without humiliation.
Safety without pressure.
And a bit of pride, so that stepping back could feel like a choice, not a defeat.”

Just as Touya was about to open his mouth to firmly contradict her, something in his peripheral vision yanked his attention sideways. In the farthest corner of the cafeteria, a figure rose in a way that was deeply unnatural. His focus sharpened; time seemed to stutter for a split second.

The man, his face rigid with an almost robotic determination, raised an arm. In his hand, something metallic flashed, heavy and deceptively small. The air around it began to shimmer like it was glowing hot, as if being charged with rapid acceleration.

The target was unmistakable: Juniper.

“Shit!”

Instinct and combat experience collapsed into a single moment.

He grabbed Juniper hard around the waist, spun her toward himself, shoved her body out of the projectile’s path and placed his own there instead. His muscles tensed reflexively as his forearm took the full force of the thrown weapon. A dull impact, a hiss, and the familiar pain of a fresh burn. The metal burned through the thick fabric of his hoodie and into the upper layer of his skin before clattering to the floor and skidding across the tiles.

Touya clenched his teeth. Nothing he didn’t already know.

He looked first at the metallic projectile on the ground, it was a piece of a radiator valve, clearly unscrewed and carried for exactly this purpose. Then his eyes lifted to the man it had come from.

Masaru. The patient who had warned Juniper earlier.

Cold fury flickered in Touya’s gaze as their eyes met.

Finally.

Security stormed the room. Shouts echoed off the walls. Two broad-shouldered men in purple rushed Masaru, forced him to the ground. Handcuffs clicked shut.

The danger was, for now, neutralized.

Once again, she was in his arms.
For the second time that day, Touya held Juniper protectively and this time there was no ironic remark on his lips. Only the sudden weight of reality. She would have been too slow to dodge. He had saved her.
And he told himself it was only because her entire condition today was pitiful-borderline pathetic.

He looked at her.

Her body was soft, exhausted. Her eyes wide, her stare fixed on the attacker. Shock etched her face, as if the last few seconds hadn’t been real.

“That’s impossible…” she murmured quietly, more to herself than to anyone else. Her voice was brittle, but still clear enough for Touya to hear every word.
“That shouldn’t have happened to me…”

Juniper seemed more horrified by herself than by the attempted attack.

Then her expression hardened, and she freed herself from his hold. Without hesitation, she grabbed his wrist with an unmistakable gesture.
“Come with me.”

He let it happen, rolling his eyes as if he already knew what was coming.

She led him through two corridors, past staff members who stepped aside, watching them with curious looks. Then she opened the door to a small treatment room flooded with harsh light. The smell of alcohol and sterile surfaces hit her nose, but she was far too charged for it to bother her now.

With a nod, she indicated the examination table, already reaching for disinfectant, ointment, gauze.

Another short nod toward his clothing told him to remove his top while she pulled on gloves.

Touya grinned mischievously.
“You know, you could just say if you want to see me naked.”

She stayed silent. For once, she didn’t counter him with a clever comeback.

The usually talkative head physician worked quietly, precisely, methodically. The practiced flow of trained hands but her entire body vibrated faintly with tension.

Touya watched her sideways. Then he raised a brow, tugged his mouth into a crooked line.

“You’ve got a weird way of saying thanks.”

Without looking up, she replied, her voice calm but charged:
“I don’t want to thank you for letting yourself get burned.”

The skin on his upper arm was reddened; a blister was already forming. Touya looked at it as if it barely mattered. She dabbed the disinfectant as gently as she could, yet he didn’t so much as flinch.

She thought of the child who had once grown up in a house full of expectations, of daily punishment, of becoming so accustomed to pain that you stop noticing it altogether.

Touya snorted softly and almost like a laugh.
“Relax. I’ve been burned plenty of times in my life. Believe it or not.”

“Oh, I believe you,” she said quietly as she applied the ointment. Her hands trembled just barely, but her gaze stayed fixed on the wound.
“Just because you’re used to pain… doesn’t mean you have to keep collecting it.”

Silence.

Then he growled, that sarcastic, low rumble that was so characteristically his biting and honest at once.
“Why do you want to help me so damn badly, Juniper? Got a thing for broken guys? Or just a sick need to control everything?”

She paused, looking at him without surprise or offense.
“Because I see how much damn potential there is in you. And how fast everyone was to destroy it. Including you.”

A breath.
“I can help you. But you have to decide, Touya. Whether you want to keep fighting everyone or whether, at some point, you stop losing against yourself.”

He stared at her, unable to answer properly. Instead, his gaze flicked to his arm for a second, then back to her eyes. He spoke through clenched teeth.
“Were you supposed to let that thing punch through you or what?” he snapped, louder than necessary.

Juniper’s expression barely changed. But her energy visibly collapsed, her breathing grew shallow and the fine lines around her eyes surfaced, that usually were so well hidden. Her body, tired, exhausted, running on emergency power, yet she held herself upright as best she could.

“No idea,” she said, her voice more fragile now. “But it wasn’t supposed to punch through you either. You’re not a damn shield you just throw in front of people.”

She turned slightly away from him. The roll of bandage nearly slipped from her hand.
She paused, forcing herself to regroup.
“I just don’t want anything to happen to you.”

She took a short breath and then an angry “fuck” escaped her,
visibly frustrated that she barely had the energy left to stay professional.

For half a minute, the only sound was the hum of the fluorescent light. Touya watched her as if she’d just let a secret slip.

Then a dark, almost flirtatious laugh rolled from his chest, his words sliding off his lips.
“Oh, so my doc does want to save me after all. I thought she didn’t want to be a hero.”

Juniper just shook her head, disbelieving and defeated, as if she truly had no strength left today to react to his sarcasm.
“Oh, shut up.”

He grinned, satisfied. But he also noticed how her eyes kept drifting to his injured arm and how much regret and remorse lay in them. The words stuck in his throat like hot coals. He wanted to say something that might pull her out of this state, something to keep their verbal sparring going. But he wasn’t made for comfort or softness. Not when every attempt to raise his voice ended with his words coming out twisted or crueler than he meant.

His mouth never knew how to shape words without cutting them first.
So he stayed quiet and let the moment pass.

“Thank you.”

Their eyes met again, and she swallowed hard as if replaying the entire moment in her head, only now fully grasping how serious it would have been if the object had hit her instead. By position and angle alone, it would have struck her at heart level.

“Thank you for saving me.”