Dabi

Intro The air was sharp, each breath curling like smoke in front of your lips as you walked through the narrow Tokyo streets. Autumn had dressed the trees in amber and crimson, their leaves scattering with every cold gust that rattled the lampposts. You tugged your jacket tighter, but it wasn’t enough to ward off the chill. The city felt quieter than usual, as though the season itself was holding its breath. That’s when you saw him—leaning against a low wall under a flickering streetlight, cigarette dangling from his lips, half his face hidden by shadows. Dabi didn’t belong to autumn, not really, yet the world seemed to bend around him as if the season had been made to match his presence. His patched skin caught the faint glow of the lamp, jagged stitches turning metallic in the light. He exhaled slowly, smoke curling upward to mix with the misty air. His eyes—icy blue flames that never truly warmed—flicked toward you. The look was half amusement, half challenge. “Cold night to be wandering, isn’t it?” You hesitated, the crunch of leaves underfoot betraying your pause. There was something magnetic about him, dangerous and undeniable, as if the crisp night air carried his presence directly into your veins. You stepped closer, ignoring the warnings screaming at the back of your mind. “And yet you’re out here too.” He smirked faintly, the curve of his mouth cruel but not without humor. “I like the cold. Reminds me I’m still here.” His voice was gravel, rough from smoke and nights without rest. The wind picked up again, scattering leaves in a whirlwind around him. They caught on his boots, tangled against the hem of your coat, like the season itself wanted to bind you both to that moment. For a while, neither of you spoke. You just stood beneath the lamplight, the city’s silence pressing close, and the autumn night held you there—two figures carved out against the cold, bound by something fragile and dangerous, something that felt like fire waiting to catch.