Dabi hated getting new siblings.
That wasn't to say he hated the siblings themselves - though it had taken a while at first, he did genuinely love them, even if said love wasn't quite the platonic ideal of sibling bonds the people he'd met across his life had spoken of. He cared about Glassflower, picking up knick-knacks and chasing down leads for her, and Summer was one of the dozen or so people he'd ever me who he could stand being around for extended periods of time. If he'd been an unluckier man, he knew, it wouldn't have been the case - but he wasn't, and so it was.
(If this kept up, he'd be stupidly attached to the next one - and wouldn't that be a calamity.)
So, no, he didn't hate his siblings. But God, he hated getting them.
Hated the reminder that he was worth nothing, that *they* were worth nothing, that each of their worths could be measured in the dead currencies of magic and time and pounds of flesh. Hated the reminder that being born into the family meant a bloody death before you were even old enough to know what death meant beyond the fact that it was terrifying and painful.
Hated the reminder that in the end, none of them would be good enough, not really, even if some were closer than others; and no matter how it went down in the end, there would be a mess to scrape away and cover up, again.
He hoped, idly, that the new kid had been born a girl. His father might have assimilated into each and every new century like a frog crawling from its birth-pond onto land, but old habits died slow deaths, with vampires even more so than other mortals. The child would, of course, still be a screwed-up mess of a being by any decent metric - but Glassflower, at least, had proven that the man held some twisted kindness within him, misogynist and opium-laced and bloody as it was. She, at least, had escaped whatever deep-rooted rage had consumed him and his brother.
If only life would be so kind, he thought, and raised his glass to his lips, taking a sip more for something to occupy himself than any other impulse. Blood and alcohol coiled across his tongue, smothering any lighter notes that might have lived there, and he scowled, the taste familiar for all its veneer of celebration and ages spent buried in someone's basement. If it wasn't for Kurogiri-come-Cloud's love affair with reds he wouldn't have touched a glass outside the halls of the sprawling home he was standing in - but then again, without the man he probably wouldn't be back here, either. He owed him a lot, really; the ability to distinguish a bad drink from a good one was a trifle against some of his larger debts.
He was brought back to Earth by a smaller hand than his, wrapping around his free one and squeezing gently in a gesture of comfort. "You don't need to be here if you want to," Goldrose told him firmly, and he glanced across at her as she gazed firmly back at him.
He wasn't entirely sure what it was about flowers that attracted the attention of murderous little sisters; he supposed, absently, that it wasn't really a question he was bothered with answering, anyway.
Goldrose tugged his arm a little, half-swinging off it even as she stood as tall as him in her high-heeled shoes. "I'm only here to see Thousand Blossom, you know," she reminded him. "You can go home and we can sneak into your Father's house later, if you want!" Her teeth flashed in a cheeky, self-assured grin. "It'll be fun!"
It was a tempting offer. Especially since, with Spinner still recovering from the strain the Noumu Heart had put on his spirit, and Locker fresh out of useful spellcasting ability, they'd have no choice to bring Magne with them; a requirement that promised levels of violent destruction that were entirely appropriate for the job. Nevertheless, it wasn't like Dabi wanted to traumatise the kid they'd be sneaking in for any further - or, at least, the mature part of him that had seen almost two centuries of undeath didn't - so he shook his head. "Nah. I'll stay. Distaff can cause more problems with me here, anyway."
Goldrose hummed, and the two of them looked over to where they'd last seen Dabi's date, hoping to see something interesting. He didn't disappoint; his jacket, for one, was about ten feet away from the spot across his shoulders where it had been two minutes ago, dangling precariously from a light fixture as its owner threw himself, body and voice, into what could only be described as an ugly three-way brawl.
"Nice," Dabi snorted, and made a mental note to buy Distaff something nice. Not that he needed an incentive to get into fights; but it was the thought that counted.
Goldrose tilted her head as she watched the fight, the motion adorably like that of some small animal. "Is he making it worse?" she asked, slowly, shooting him a glance, and Dabi nodded.
"Yeah," he said. "What, you've never seen this before? I thought Thousand Blossom would've told you."
Goldrose shrugged. "I take my fights outside," she told him. "The cold keeps the blood fresh for longer."
It was a fair point, really - terribly practical and well excusable. Still, in Dabi's experience you never knew when you'd really need to - or want to - piss someone off, so he elected to explain the scene in front of them, anyway. "When I was a kid," he began, "My - you know - told me you could get away with 'bout twenty seconds of violence at these things before it crossed the line from expected to rude. So if you want to cause problems, you've gotta keep them going at you for longer than that - and they're gonna be watching themselves the whole time, trying to get away with causing as much damage as they can without it becoming-" he raised his hands in air quotes "-some sorta faux pas." He paused; someone had just dropped to the ground in a dead faint, but he couldn't tell who had caused it. The hazards of standing back away from the action, he supposed. "Anyway, the key is to keep them insulted the whole way through so they keep going at you ages after the line's been crossed. 'S not hard, really. Ditch the jacket, scuff your shoes on the furniture, scratch instead of hit - y'know how these old people are. Easy to piss off before you even open your mouth."
Goldrose made a noise of assent, sharp amber eyes glittering in the light as some unfortunate man was thrown across the room. Calling the brawl a three-way would have been pushing it, now; Distaff was barely a flash of blue-blond and black tie in a mess of mutual assault. Dabi had to hand it to him - the man knew how to draw a crowd. Another sharp movement, and someone collided with a tabletop; Goldrose made a questioning noise.
"He's taken his hair out," she noted. "It was all tied up cute when we came in, what's up with that?"
"Up to a point it's harder to grab free hair than a ponytail," Dabi drawled. "Not that you're meant to show that you think someone might do that... they will, 'cause they're bastards, but you're not meant to."
Goldrose frowned for a moment, before her eyes widened in understanding. "Ooh," she murmured, hands reaching up to touch her own elaborate up-do. It was an impressive sort of thing - Magne did good work. "I get it," she said. "I wouldn't want to take mine out, though."
There was a snarling noise from the brawl and a shriek of pain. It had escalated to biting, then; it was up to Distaff, now, to extract himself from the horrendously impolite mess before his luck ran out and he copped an elbow to the nose, or something. Dabi turned away, back towards the girl still holding his arm. "Well, that's done. What'd'you wanna do to pass the time in this place?" he asked, and she creased her brow pensively, brightening within moments.
"Eat all the canapés, I think."
Dabi nodded his assent. Food - the driving motivator of everyone still growing, and some who weren't; and an occupation that provided several ways to embarrass the family name. Truly, he couldn't have asked for a better idea.
"I'll warn you now, he looks just like you," Glassflower said, ten minutes later, and Dabi nearly dropped his wineglass onto the pretty white carpet. The moment passed; he regretted not being startled more and losing the opportunity to put a stain on Endeavor's property, but his life was full of those sorts of moments, so he turned to his sister instead of lingering on it.
"Do you usually make a habit of sneaking up on people?" he demanded, and she blinked at him, identical blue eyes staring into his.
"Yes," she told him, plainly. "Quite often."
Of course she did. That was her job, Dabi reminded himself. Sneaking up on vampires who caused problems, however she classified that, and giving them a fast pass to the shadow realm. And teaching small children how to replicate the process, of course.
His family could get worse, but he wasn't sure it could get weirder, or more dramatic.
Glassflower shook her head at him in vague exasperation - the worst kind, if he was honest - and turned to Goldrose. "Thousand Blossom just went to the garden, if you want to catch her," she said. "She'll be here all night, of course, but she'll be easy to catch alone, right now."
"Oh?" Goldrose grinned, cramming three olives into her mouth at once and leaping to her feet. In a smooth, well practiced motion, she skipped past a nearby waiter, plucking a wineglass from his tray as she did so. "Thanks, Glassflower!" she called, and had scampered out of view before anyone nearby could say a thing about underage drinking.
Dabi wondered where he found people like this, but elected not to think about it too hard. He might find out something about himself that he didn't want to know, after all, and that wouldn't do at all.
"He can't look like me," he said instead, turning back to the woman who'd been his first replacement. "He's a baby, and I'm a grown man with dyed hair and enough metal in me to throw Magne's spells off."
Glassflower rolled her eyes - only slightly, but obvious enough to the sight of any sibling. "He's fifteen, body and time," she replied, "and I meant that he looks like you do in all those pictures from when you were his age. Honestly, Dabi." She paused; her expression softened, slightly. "I wanted to warn you. You're doing great just being here."
"Yeah, yeah, tell me that when Distaff and I finally get booted out for being a 'menace to polite society' or something," Dabi muttered, and Glassflower chuckled.
"Oh, most of us got used to that a long time ago," she smiled; who "us" was dangled, unclear, between them. "But seriously, Dabi. If you're going to go see him, I want you to be ready."
"Thanks," he muttered.
Glassflower sighed. "Look on the bright side, Dabi. There's no way we're getting another sibling. Mom's too old, and I don't think Dad's going to go looking for a newer wife anytime soon. I think - I think he cares, in his weird way."
It was a concept he'd thought over, of his own accord, but nevertheless, the old anger, cold and ill-buried, flickered to life in Dabi's mind, and he snorted derisively. "Yeah? Like he cared for us? Like he cared for me?" He gestured at his face, the still-raw skin and scabbed-over wounds and stark white scars, and Glassflower looked guilty.
"I'm not protecting him, Dabi. I'm not saying he's a good man. You know - I - I didn't mean it that way."
Dabi looked away. The embers settled, but didn't die. They never did, and he wasn't sure he wanted them to. "Yeah," he said, gruffly. "Yeah, I know. I just don't like to think about it. Makes it worse, somehow."
"I'm sorry," Glassflower said, kind and good and better than him as she was, and he huffed out a frustrated breath, shuffling his feet in agitation. They'd barely been speaking for two minutes.
He hated getting new siblings.
"Yeah, I get it," he said, careful to inject faux-easiness into his tone. If her expression was anything to go by, he failed. "It's fine. He hurt you too."
"Not so much as you," Glassflower sighed, and Dabi didn't reply. She sighed, placing her hand onto his shoulder. The pressure was firm, neither tight nor domineering. Unfamiliar. "Come visit more often, won't you?" she asked, and as Dabi nodded, she smiled at him, bobbing her head in farewell and vanishing back into the crowd. Probably looking for Summer, he guessed - if the now-middle child was even there. It would be a fifty-fifty, really - where Dabi had grown up raging, Summer had grown up bitter; and for years, Glassflower had been one of the sole soft spots in Summer's jaded heart. She was like that for everyone, really - Dabi didn't doubt she was the sole reason the family hadn't torn itself apart in the precarious years after Summer's birth and death alike. Without her, Summer would certainly have grown into something more dangerous than a healer, their mother would almost certainly have done - something drastic, he supposed, if nothing else - and as for Dabi...
What would he have done?
There was no way to know for sure, he thought. Not even the gods could predict their own fates, after all.
Glassflower had given him a heads-up, though. He would have to remember that. Get her something nice - a knife, perhaps? She liked those.
Something about multipurpose tools. And they said women were hard to shop for.
He drained his glass and glanced across the rooms, eyes locking onto the familiar blue-silver of Distaff's long, wavy hair with a well-practiced ease. His partner's jacket was back on, his hair pulled back once more - revealing a suspicious purple mark across his eye, but that was to expected - and he was playing a video game with his elbows pressed firmly onto the tabletop. It was tempting - extremely tempting - to go over, call it a day, and leave, but Dabi reined himself in, looking away and across the crowd of partygoers.
He'd have to see his new brother eventually, he knew; and that eventually should probably be before someone got sick of his "failure" to reign in his boyfriend and booted them both out. It wasn't like his father was going to be giving out unfettered access later to his newest creation, even to family. The man was cruel like that.
Dabi had no intention of letting the man's actions sink their teeth into him. He'd done his years, felt the desperation and longing and rage and every other choking mutation of childhood grief. Not this time. Not again. Not ever.
He took a deep breath, and set off to find the rest of his family.
In the end, seeing his brother was far simpler than it could have been, the burn of old green-tinted glass tempered by dull, half-confused eyes and familiar scars. They had met, they had spoken, and Dabi had elected, in all his brotherly grace, not to give the child the flamethrower, or even a familial kick in the shins. He was nice, like that.
Seeing his father, however, had been an event that could generously be described as a shitshow, and so Dabi ended up sitting in the garden, face red-hot and streaked with wet, watching Goldrose gush over something to a tall young woman with long black hair. Thousand Blossom, he assumed; but he didn't really care enough to ask. He'd find out soon, anyway.
"Hey," a voice said, eventually, hoarse with exertion, and Dabi shuffled over without a word as Distaff settled next to him, tie crooked and black eye blossomed into its full glory.
"Nice bruise," Dabi commented, and Distaff smirked like his right eye was swelling itself shut.
"Thanks, I paid for it myself," he said with a snicker, and then, more seriously, "I knocked three people out. Don't think your lot like me much."
"Was it worth it?" Dabi asked, and Distaff shot him a broad smile, canine teeth gleaming.
"It's always worth it to kick another guild's ass," he drawled, and didn't ask about the fresh blood bubbling up from the gashes around Dabi's eyes. They both knew where it came from, anyway.
There was nothing but companionable silence for a moment, broken by distanced chatter and the sound of frogs in the undergrowth, before Dabi spoke of his own accord. "Glassflower was right. He does look like me. My hair, my eyes, my face. It's a good thing, I guess. I don't know if I could stand it if he looked any more like him."
"The envy, or the anger?" Distaff asked, and Dabi shrugged. It could have been either, or both; he wasn't sure he'd ever be able to tell the difference, fully.
Distaff gazed at him for a moment, before posing another question. "What's he like, then?" he asked, and Dabi had to think on it.
"Angry," he said, eventually. "And sad. Like all of us, I guess. I..."
He paused.
"He wanted me to be there," he said, slowly. "I thought he might not, but he did."
"Kuro - Cloud - says that's how families are meant to work," Distaff reminded him. "Caring, keeping each other specced up, all that. Not the weird... making-a-puppet stuff."
Distaff, Dabi remembered, knew a little too much about father figures, and puppets.
"Mom wanted him to die quieter than the rest of us," he said, in lieu of a true answer. "So she talked the old man into taking out his eye."
"Taking out -?"
"Not - physically," Dabi said, quickly, and Distaff's squint of confusion lessened, somewhat. "Just - put a knife through it. Sends you into shock, apparently."
Distaff nodded, slowly, but his brow stayed pinched into a frown, and after a moment, he spoke. "That sounds too easy. Unbalanced. What's the catch?"
"Other than a weak point the size of your eye socket?"
Distaff didn't reply; just raised an eyebrow, leaned over, and ran his thumb across the Dabi's cheek. It came away red and sticky, blood pooling around the creases, and Dabi winced at his unimpressed look. "Yeah, okay, point taken, you asshole." He paused, collecting his thoughts. "So, apparently, if you hurt your eye, sometimes it decides to try to eat itself."
Distaff's look of frustrated consideration gave way to blankness in the blink of his eyes. "...huh."
Dabi just made a face, ignoring the sensations of skin and muscle tugging uncomfortably at his wounds. "Everything sucks," he complained. "Whose idea was all this - society or whatever - anyway?"
"Tell me about it," Distaff muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. It was entirely rhetorical; they'd already had that conversation, a dozen times over.
They fell into silence once more, this time for almost a minute; they would have sat there for longer, had there not been a sudden outburst of screeches and distressed cries from inside the main building. Distaff's ears twitched, swivelling towards the sound as Dabi stood up for a better view. "Oh," he said, and leant forwards, hooking a finger around Dabi's. "Don't worry about that. I dropped my lighter."
"You don't smoke?"
"Excellent observation," Distaff replied, sarcasm bordering on a sneer. "I'm glad you know that after 180 years, sweetheart."
Dabi squinted at him, still standing. "Should we be leaving?"
Distaff just shrugged, lazily. The yells crescendoed, peaking for a moment, before being replaced, more or less, by what sounded like a high-powered garden hose. "We're gonna get kicked out eventually, anyway."
Dabi glanced over at Goldrose and Thousand Blossom. Goldrose was waving something long and shiny in the air; they were comparing weapons, then, if that and the eager gushing was anything to go by. One of the most dangerous vampire hunters in the country could find her way home on her own, he figured; and if she ended up biting some of her brethren, that was their problem. "C;mon, then," he said, and Distaff got to his feet, linking their hands fully.
"Want to take a side quest on the way out? Stir up some chaos?"
Dabi considered it. "Nah," he decided. "Let's just get out of here."
So get out of there they did. The fence was slightly spiky, but not entirely un-vault-able.
If Goldrose had decided to film them for social media, that was a problem for another day.
"Did you get his name?" Distaff asked him later, as they bickered over the political alignment of their Creature Crossing townsfolk.
"Firelight's?" Dabi asked, hitting a rabbit over the head with a butterfly net. Truly, he was an evil man.
"Yeah - did you put purple flowers outside Snuffle's house? There's no way he's a royalist, you're an idiot - yeah, Firelight's. His real one, I mean."
"I did," Dabi said, putting the purple flowers down with a sharp clicking of the console buttons and ignoring Distaff's sitting attempt at a shoulder-charge. "Bit too trusting, isn't he?"
Distaff paused. "You're not thinking of stealing another teenager, are you?"
Dabi considered it for a moment, and then remembered watching his brother accidentally-maybe-on-purpose snub everyone in the room in favour of loudly explaining exactly how he intended to perform his first kill with with power of spite and mundane weapons.
Faith hadn't even factored into the equation. There was arrogance, and stupidity, and then there was whatever Shōto was doing. He hoped it'd be funny, at least.
"Nah," he decided. "Daddy's little hero's more than capable of bolting, I think. For now he'll be fine just where he is."
"Oh, good," Tenko said. "Because if I had to hang out with three Todorokis instead of two, I might end up teamkilling one of you."
"Shots not," Tōya said flatly, and hit the rabbit again.