Chapter 22

Hello, hello! Mimmy here with a new chapter of The Flame's Shadow! Man, this one's been half written for over 6 years, no kidding. I'm excited to post it! ^^

#WritingMatters

Word count

985

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When Dabi arrived at the hideout that evening, he expected a normal night. He expected a night with Hawks, just hanging out with him and Matt when Toga brought him back from wherever it was they were.

“There you are.” Shigaraki’s voice greeted him, which was rather unusual. Dabi looked at him, waiting for him to say whatever it was he wanted to say. “Hawks is a traitor.”

Dabi froze for a moment, looking at him, blinking in confusion and disbelief. “He’s what?”

“He’s a traitor. I got someone to track him. He’s been giving information to the heroes , about our plans… about the kid.”

Dabi felt the world falling apart right beneath him. No. Hawks- he would never do that, not to him… he wouldn’t involve Matt. He shook his head. “No. No, you’ve got it wrong. He’s been talking to the heroes but… he told them about Siren, he got her away. He was-”

Shigaraki stood from his seat, looking at him dead in the eye. “Look, we were all glad when he got rid of Siren, but he’s been using you. He’s been lying. He’s-”

“Shut up!” Dabi snapped, glaring at him. “He- No! He’s not one of them!”

He’d spent half of his life trying to break away from heroes completely. He had not fallen for a hero’s lies. He had not made that mistake.

“He’s planning a raid with some other heroes.” Shigaraki’s voice was cold, final, like he knew that every word he was saying was the undeniable truth. “I thought you might want to protect your child rather than your heart.”

Dabi said nothing in response. He had nothing to say. He just walked to his room, trying to get answers. Hawks couldn’t have done that.

“... the kid, yeah.” Dabi froze, hearing Hawks’ voice muffled on the other side of the door. “Dabi’s kid. No manifestation so far… maybe there’s still time.” Dabi’s hands shook as he tried to come up with a reason for that conversation that didn’t make him want to burn the bird down to ashes. “I’m working on it, Endeavor, but it’s not that simple. Dabi… he’s not ready yet. Once he falls, the rest will follow but-” Silence. Dabi’s heart pounded fast and hard in his chest, suffocating him. “Yes, Endeavor, I swear. Next week, yes. But don’t hurt the kid, he’s only three.”

The silence that followed was evidence that Hawks had hung up.

Dabi stormed into the room, his steps loud and deliberate. His whole body practically radiated fury. Controlled. Dangerous.

Hawks looked up from his phone, blinking, a half-smile forming—but it fell the second he ed Dabi’s expression.

“What is it?” Hawks asked, voice low, cautious.

Dabi didn’t answer right away. He just walked closer and Hawks suddenly felt cornered—not by the walls, not by the room, but by what Dabi seemed to know. His heart sank.

“How could you?” Dabi’s voice was sharp, but there was something strained in it. There were no tears, but his eyes were burning, his throat tight, like his whole body was cracking open from the inside.

Hawks instinctively stepped back, hitting the edge of the bed, and still didn’t say a word. There wasn’t anything he could say. The guilt was already sitting heavy in his chest, but he’d believed what he did was right.

Dabi didn’t stop. He snatched the phone from Hawks’ hand—Hawks didn’t even try to stop him—and threw it across the room. It hit the wall with a thud and clattered to the ground.

Hawks looked at it for half a second—then Dabi’s fist slammed into his jaw, sending him sprawling backward onto the bed.

He didn’t fight back. He didn’t move.

Dabi’s hands were trembling. He wasn’t just angry—he felt used, betrayed, played like a fool for trusting Hawks at all. The pain in his chest was so strong it drowned out the sound of his own breathing.

He yanked Hawks up by the collar, not giving him a chance to recover, and hit him again. Hawks dropped to the floor, dazed.

Dabi crouched, arm raised to strike again—but he stopped. His hand hovered in the air, shaking, and he let it fall uselessly to his side.

“Get the fuck out.” His voice cracked—not from tears, not from weakness, but from too much emotion, like the words were tearing through him. He didn’t wait for Hawks to respond. He turned and walked out, slamming the door behind him.

Dabi paced into his room, teeth gritted so hard it hurt. His body ached from the tension. The second he saw the photo on the bookshelf—Hawks, smiling like he had nothing to hide, with Matt on his lap—something in him snapped.

He grabbed the frame and threw it to the floor. The glass shattered, pieces scattering across the room, but he didn’t flinch. He just stood there, breathing hard, staring at the mess.

His phone buzzed in his pocket.

He didn’t look at it.

Instead, he typed: ‘Keep Matt out longer.’ Sent. Done.

He crouched, hand still shaking, and started gathering up the shards. The frame was broken, the photo half-creased. His fingers brushed a sharp edge, slicing his skin, and he hissed—but didn’t stop.

Blood welled along his index finger in a thin red line. He stared at it for a long moment.

Then picked up the photo, pulled it from the ruined frame, and stuffed it into a box—shoving it under the bed like it didn’t exist.

“I hate you…” The words came out flat. Forced. Like he was trying to convince himself. Like if he said it enough times, it might become true.

He collapsed onto the bed, eyes closed, willing his mind to shut up. To forget. To not feel this.

A long stretch of silence.

Then the door opened.

Silence.

The door closed again.

Dabi didn’t move.

Didn’t breathe.

He sighed shakily. “Fuck…”