Bury Me in a Field of Flowers (and Don't Tell Them That I Love You)

Chapter Four

It's strange, Dabi reflects.

For so long, for way too long, he had lived his life in a world of black and white. Being raised in an environment where he was never allowed to formulate his own opinion and thoughts, the ideals of his father- no matter how twisted, was shoved down his throat since an early age.

Heroes were the upmost important beings in society, for they protected the weak and defended the run of the mill civilians from the dirt that creeps around the edges. Always there, waiting to devour an innocent soul.

It was his duty to follow in his father's fiery footsteps.

To continue the perfect image of their family honor.

To be the knight in shining white armor that arrives to every beck and call. That dotes on the people that idolize. That rescues some little kid's cat stuck on a tree or helps an old lady across the street. That arrests the scum that dare disrupt order. That tells the frightened to have no fear, because he is there.

Yet, what could he do when his own father's armor was tarnished by his greed and envy to be only the best?

Who was he to even question his father's warped view on society, when his father stowed away his true intentions?

How was he even to process the fact that him and his siblings only even existed because of his father's failure to be the best and it was up to them to dethrone the Number One in Endeavor's place? That they were never truly felt the love and security that a parent should give. That they were nothing but mindless and emotionless drones to carry out Endeavor's wishing. It disgusted him. Filled him with distrust and hate of the so called "great heroes".

There is no such thing as a true hero. There is no one that had, has and will walk on this earth that ask for nothing in return of their "good deeds". There is always an ulterior motive, Dabi had learned. Any person claiming to be completely selfless and only lives to serve, only makes Dabi more suspicious.

When he decided be a thorn in his father's side, he learned a great deal about the lesser, unwanted side of society.

Villains, who only came into their own role was because of a sole reason in Dabi's mind.

The failings of the heroes.

Even seeing those self proclaimed vigilantes running around being treated like villains at times makes Dabi scoff. Just because they don't posses a pathetic piece of laminated paper stating that they're good enough to be a hero, automatically gives them a jail sentence? How cruel society truly can be.

Too long had he seen the broken and the wounded, the weak who had wanted to help others and be a hero to maybe their family or friends or maybe like in Dabi's case- a familial obligation.

Yet, they were cast aside.

Being called weak and not good enough over and over and over does a lot on a person's psyche. Hell, he's not only witnessed it first hand- he's lived through it for fifteen agonizing years of psychological torture.

It was then, when he listened to criminal's petty stories and murderer's lament that he had realized that the world was not black and white like how he was taught.

It was nothing but a muddled world of ugly greys in his eyes.

And so that's how he viewed his skewed world for eight long years. It was as if he lived an old time television, never seeing in color.

He knew that if he was met with a grisly ending, the world would just keep on spinning. That he wouldn't be missed at all. After all, not even his own family misses him. Why would his colleagues?