….
[U.A. Faculty Drooms]
Twenty-four hours of rest, combined with Dabi's evolution of hyper-regenerative draconic physiology, can work miracles.
His bone deep ache had completely vanished, his burned tissue had smoothed over, and his internal core was once again steady with immense power.
Dabi stretched his arms, a series of satisfying pops echoing along his spine.
Across the room, the sleeping pile remained thoroughly undisturbed.
Rumi had commandeered the primary futon, dead to the world with one bandaged leg slung carelessly over the edge.
Sandwiched between them was Eri and Himiko.
Dabi smiled faintly, careful not to make any sounds as he slipped quietly toward the kitchen counter. He pulled out a quick plate of cold sliced fruit and leftover rice, wolfing it down in three bites.
He knew better than to start banging pots and pans; waking Rumi who was still recovering unlike him.
Dabi turned his eyes toward the front entryway.
His senses had picked up their hovering, nervous presence nearly two hours ago.
They had been loitering on the stone pathway like a pack of stray cats, whispering, and repeatedly chickening out every time they drew close to the bell.
Dabi walked up to the door and swung it open.
"How long are you guys going to keep standing outside?"
On the porch steps, Jin Bubaigawara was caught mid-stumble, flailing his arms wildly. He had clearly been shoved forward against his will, his index finger hovering mere inches away from the doorbell.
"Ah! He's awake! He caught us!" Twice squeaked, clutching the sides of his mask. "I told you we should have waited at the gate! It was Stain's idea! It was my idea!"
Standing directly behind him was the rest of Dabi's squad.
Stain stood with his arms folded under his tattered crimson scarf, having clearly initiated the shove that sent Jin hurtling forward.
Just behind Gentle Criminal was hastily smoothing out his ruffled lapels, while La Brava peered nervously over his shoulder.
"Keep it down." Dabi muttered in a flat, deadpan tone, leaning against the doorframe and crossing his arms. "The girls are asleep. If you wake them up, I am locking the door and letting Rumi use all four of you for morning target practice."
Every single one of them, even Stain, instinctively closed their mouths and straightened up.
"You've been lurking out here since five in the morning." Dabi said, his eyes sweeping over the exhausted crew. "What's the emergency? Did Hawks told you to call me?"
To be completely honest, neither Stain nor anyone else in the squad had wanted to stand where they were standing. They knew better than anyone what Dabi had just endured, the physical toll of the battlefield and the emotional weight of visiting his mother.
They would have gladly let their boss sleep for three days straight.
The problem was, they had been buried under an avalanche of requests, secure dispatches, and heavy institutional pressure. While they routinely ignored political threats, they couldn't ignore the reality of the fallout.
Dabi's actions over the past twenty-four hours had shaken the nation.
To the general populace, his battle with All For One was an overwhelming, terrifying spectacle.
But within the high-ranking Hero circles and political chambers, it was an existential earthquake.
To the established ruling class, a Hero couldn't simply reorganize the Hero Public Safety Commission's leadership on a whim, and walk away scot-free.
While frontline pros like Ryukyu and Jeanist handled the aftermath in Kamino, the structural and political aftermath desperately demanded Dabi's presence.
The national power struggle was spiraling into chaos, split between multiple factions maneuvering for total dominance:
The Civilian State and National Diet: Right now, the constitutional civilian government holds the absolute supreme leverage.
The HPSC is merely a specialized agency serving at the state's pleasure, and the Prime Minister and Parliament hold the ultimate legal authority.
Controlling national hero budgets, emergency decrees, and Tartarus's military penal system.
They view Dabi's unilateral administrative coup as a direct threat to constitutional supremacy, yet they are paralyzed by fear, knowing they lack the means to rein him in.
The Restructured HPSC: Operating under Hawks, Mera, and Lady Nagant, the Commission is fighting a two-front defensive war.
They are scrambling to maintain public order, salvage their shattered PR, and purge their covert black-ops programs, all while trying to keep the civilian government from stripping their operational independence and funding.
The Hearts and Minds Party (MLA): Operating quietly beneath the political surface, Koku Hanabata and Re-Destro are weaponizing this exact crisis.
While the government and hero factions clash, Hanabata is using his parliamentary influence, media empires, and civilian charisma to push deregulation bills through the Diet, aiming to legally dissolve state control over Quirks entirely.
The National Police Force: Attempting to break free from decades of serving as a passive cleanup crew, senior law enforcement officials are fighting to reclaim operational authority, demanding structural reforms so society never relies on a single Hero again.
At the center of this web stood the civilian government, holding the legal monopoly on power… And the restructured Commission, holding the heroes on the ground.
Yet both entities were staring at the exact same terrifying truth: the balance of the entire country was currently being dictated by a single man.
But, all this geopolitical maneuvering meant surprisingly little to Dabi's maverick reform unit.
Stain, Twice, and the others hadn't broken sleep and sprinted to the U.A. faculty grounds out of a sudden patriotic concern for parliamentary procedure.
When it came to the state, the police, or the underworld, they operated on pure, unwavering faith: if the world pushed, Dabi would simply push back harder, incinerate the obstacle, and settle the problem on his own terms.
What dragged them to his porch at the crack of dawn was a classified dispatch intercepted at precisely 1:30 AM.
The civilian government, terrified of the dragon yet desperate to retain its grip, was formally putting an offer on the table.
They were willing to swallow their pride, stand down on prosecuting Dabi's unscheduled audit, and officially ratify Hawks as the new President of the HPSC.
In exchange, the state demanded the right to install their own handpicked bureaucrats as Vice President and across several key executive oversight boards.
A classic political move to slip a velvet collar back onto the Commission's neck.
That part was just dirty politics.
Annoying, but standard.
It was the second clause of the government's proposed terms that had chilled Dabi's squad to the bone.
It was a demand so monumentally arrogant, so fundamentally tone deaf, that none of them wanted to be the one to speak it out loud.
They didn't merely fear how Dabi would react because they already knew with absolute and terrifying certainty what he would do.
If those words left their lips, the scorched crater in Kamino Ward was going to look like a sandbox compared to what he would do to the Diet building.
So, why were they standing in front of his door?
Because nobody else in Japan was suicidal enough to deliver it.
The moment Dabi's cold eyes narrowed, demanding an answer, the entire unit fractured.
"Go on, Jin, tell him! Don't you dare say a word, we will die!" Twice yelped, immediately lunging backward and shoving Gentle Criminal straight into the crosshairs.
"Good heavens, manners, Jin!" Gentle hissed, flailing his arms to regain his balance and smoothing his cravat as Dabi's unamused stare locked onto him. "Boss, you see, the political climate is… Well, a gentleman rarely trades in crude ultimatums, so perhaps–"
"Cowards." Stain rasped, his hand resting on the hilt of his katana.
Yet even the Hero Killer's eyes twitched with uncharacteristic tension as he refused to meet Dabi's gaze. "Speak plainly, or let the false rulers burn."
"Hey." Dabi said.
The single syllable wasn't loud, but the underlying frost made the squabbling die instantly.
Dabi slowly stepped out, pulling the front door nearly shut behind him with a soft click to keep the draft from waking Rumi and the girls.
He leaned his shoulder against the doorframe, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his dark lounge pants.
"I am giving you ten seconds." Dabi drawled, his voice dropping into that flat, terrifying calm that made even top-tier pros want to check for an exit. "Tell me what those bureaucratic leeches send you here, or I am throwing all five of you over the U.A. barrier."
La Brava trembled, before shoving the tablet into Gentle Criminal's chest.
Gentle blinked, cleared his throat, and decided that being the bearer of bad news was slightly more dignified than being incinerated on the welcome mat.
"Ahem. As you know, Boss, the cabinet ministers and the National Diet are in panic over your rather abrupt restructuring of the Commission." Gentle began, holding the tablet before him like a shield–
"They have accepted Hawks as president, Mera managing operations, and even Lady Nagant. However..."
Gentle paused, swallowing hard.
"Out with it, dandy." Dabi said, his tone dropping an octave.
.
….
[To be continued…]
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