MHA REINCARNATION!

(after the war/reincarnation)

The stale air of the abandoned warehouse clung to Shigaraki like a shroud. At sixteen again, the red of his eyes seemed to burn brighter against the pallor of his skin. He ran a hand through his choppy, light blue hair, the familiar nervous tick doing little to calm the storm raging within him. He remembered everything. The final war, All Might's defeat, Deku... and the crushing, suffocating end.

But here he was. Another chance. An assassin, they called him. A glorified errand boy with a terrifying quirk and a body that still felt too small, too fragile. He wasn't alone, though. There was Dabi.

Dabi. Even in this life, the name felt like a brand seared onto his soul. Same white hair, same piercing turquoise eyes that held a melancholic fire. Same unsettling calmness that masked a volcanic rage.

They recognized each other instantly, a silent acknowledgment passing between them across the crowded training room – a shared history buried deep within, a bond forged in chaos and loss. They were paired together on missions with unnerving frequency. The higher-ups claimed it was simply due to their 'compatible skillsets.' Shigaraki suspected something more.

This assignment, however, felt different. Months undercover, embedded within a network of drug dealers. Months spent navigating the treacherous underbelly of society, feigning loyalty to scum he would have gladly dusted in his previous life. Months of forced proximity with Dabi, the only constant in this bewildering, disorienting reality.

"You okay, Shigaraki?" Dabi's voice cut through the silence of their cramped apartment, a temporary haven amidst the grime.

Shigaraki scowled, avoiding his gaze. "Fine."

"You've been twitchier than usual," Dabi persisted, leaning against the doorway. He looked tired, the shadows under his eyes deeper than usual. "Something bothering you?"

Shigaraki hated this. He hated Dabi's watchful concern, the way he seemed to see right through him. But he also craved it, this unwavering presence that grounded him, reminded him that he wasn't completely alone.

"Just… remembering things," he mumbled, the lie brittle on his tongue.

Dabi didn't press, but his silence was knowing. "We all have ghosts, Shigaraki. It's what we do with them that matters."

The weeks that followed were a blur of coded conversations, clandestine meetings, and the constant, suffocating fear of exposure. They played their roles with chilling precision, weaving a tangled web of deception that threatened to unravel at any moment. But amidst the danger, something unexpected began to bloom. A grudging respect. A shared vulnerability. A fragile understanding that transcended their shared past.

They talked. Not about their past lives, not directly. But they spoke of their hopes, their fears, their regrets. Dabi confessed his lingering bitterness towards his father, his yearning for a family he could never have. Shigaraki, in turn, spoke of his overwhelming loneliness, his desperate desire for connection, a family.

One evening, after a particularly harrowing encounter with their target, Shigaraki found himself unable to sleep. He wandered onto the small balcony, the city lights blurring through the smoky haze. Dabi found him there, silent and still.

"Couldn't sleep either?" Dabi asked, his voice low.

Shigaraki shook his head.

"You want to talk about it?"

He hesitated. "It's stupid."

"Humor me."

Shigaraki took a shaky breath. "I keep… seeing him. Deku. All Might. The League. It's like… like a movie playing on repeat in my head."

Dabi remained silent, his presence a comforting weight beside him.

"And I… I don't understand it," Shigaraki continued, his voice cracking. "Why am I here? What's the point?"

"Maybe," Dabi said slowly, "maybe you're here to do things differently."

The words resonated, a spark igniting in the darkness within him. Do things differently. The thought was terrifying, exhilarating. It was a chance he never thought he'd have.

Then, it hit him.

The memories flooded him, a tidal wave of anguish and realization. His parents. The grandmother who tried to love him. The missing piece, the gaping hole in his heart that he'd never been able to fill.

Izuku.

His brother. The brother he had subconsciously tried to kill in his previous life. The brother he had hated. The brother he had unknowingly loved.

The pain was unbearable, a physical ache that ripped through him. He gasped, stumbling back against the railing, his hands flying to his head.

"Shigaraki! What's wrong?" Dabi's voice was sharp with concern, his hand reaching out to steady him.

Shigaraki couldn't speak. The memories were too overwhelming, the guilt too profound. He saw Izuku's bright green eyes, his unwavering determination, his unwavering kindness. He saw the hero that Izuku had become, the symbol of hope that he had tried to destroy.

He saw the truth. He had been wrong. So wrong.

He collapsed, sinking to his knees, tears streaming down his face. "Izuku… my brother..."

Dabi knelt beside him, his expression a mix of concern and confusion. "What are you talking about? Who's Izuku?"

Shigaraki sobbed, unable to articulate the torrent of emotions that consumed him. He pointed a shaking finger at his head. "Memories… coming back… everything…"

Understanding dawned in Dabi's eyes. He wrapped an arm around Shigaraki's shoulders, pulling him close. "It's okay," he murmured, his voice rough but gentle. "It's okay. Let it out."

And Shigaraki did. He cried until he was empty, until the memories receded, leaving him drained and raw. Dabi stayed with him, a silent anchor in the storm.

When the dawn finally broke, casting a pale light over the city, Shigaraki finally spoke. "I need to see him," he said, his voice hoarse. "I need to see Izuku."

Dabi squeezed his shoulder. "Then let's see him."

The meeting was arranged through Dabi. He had been tentatively rebuilding his relationship with Shoto for months, carefully navigating the wreckage of their past. Now, he took the next step.

The Todoroki household felt alien and sterile, a far cry from the grimy warehouses and dingy safe houses that had become Shigaraki's norm. Shoto greeted them at the door, his expression wary but welcoming.

Izuku was waiting in the living room. He looked older, more mature than Shigaraki remembered. His green eyes, however, were the same – bright with intelligence and a hint of underlying pain.

The tension in the room was palpable. No one spoke. Izuku simply stared at Shigaraki, his expression unreadable.

Finally, Shigaraki broke the silence. "Izuku," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "I… I remember."

Izuku flinched, his hands clenching into fists. "Remember what?"

"Everything," Shigaraki said, his gaze unwavering. "My past life. The League. Everything I did…"

He took a deep breath. "I was wrong, Izuku. About everything. I was consumed by hatred and resentment. I hurt you, I hurt everyone. And I'm… I'm so sorry."

The words felt inadequate, a feeble attempt to atone for a lifetime of wrongdoing. But they were honest, spoken from the depths of his heart.

Izuku remained silent, his eyes searching Shigaraki's face. He saw the genuine remorse, the pain that mirrored his own.

"Why?" Izuku finally asked, his voice thick with emotion. "Why did you do it?"

Shigaraki looked down, shame washing over him. "I was… broken. I was hurt, abandoned. I thought everyone was against me. I wanted to destroy everything that was happy, everything that I didn't have."

He looked up, meeting Izuku's gaze. "But that doesn't excuse what I did. I know that. I just… I want you to understand."

A long silence followed. Then, slowly, Izuku nodded. "I… I think I do."

He took a step forward, closing the distance between them. He reached out, his hand hovering hesitantly before resting on Shigaraki's shoulder.

"It's going to take time," Izuku said, his voice soft. "I can't just forget everything that happened. But… I'm willing to try. I'm willing to try to understand you. I'm willing to see if things can change."

Shigaraki met his brother's gaze, a flicker of hope igniting inside him. It wouldn't be easy. The scars of their past were too deep, the wounds too fresh. But for the first time in his life, he felt a flicker of hope. A chance for redemption. A chance for family.

He reached up, covering Izuku's hand with his own. "Thank you," he whispered. "Thank you, Izuku."

Dabi watched from the sidelines, a rare smile gracing his lips. He knew the road ahead would be long and arduous. But he also knew that Shigaraki, with Izuku by his side, was capable of anything. He just hoped that they were able to change the world for the better. Dabi himself had Shoto, and the two of them were going to rebuild the trust and relationship that their father shattered.

The sun rose higher in the sky, bathing the room in a warm, golden light. For the first time in a long time, Shigaraki felt a sense of peace. He was still an assassin, still living a dangerous life. But he wasn't alone anymore. He had Dabi, his constant companion. And he had Izuku, his brother, his hope, his future now. He had a chance to do things differently. And he wasn't going to waste it.