The air in the bar was thick with smoke and the scent of cheap liquor. It was the usual haunt, a place where the dregs of society gathered, and where Enji could momentarily shed the suffocating weight of his responsibilities. His eyes scanned the room, a familiar ritual. He was here for a drink, a moment of peace before returning to the endless cycle of hero work and family duty. Then, his gaze landed on a figure at a nearby table. The wild, unkempt black hair, the charred, stitched skin... Dabi. The bastard was always around, a constant thorn in his side. He didn't know the man's real name, of course. Just another lowlife villain. He nursed his drink, the ice clinking against the glass, a sound as cold and sharp as his own resolve. He watched Dabi shoveling noodles into his mouth with a ferocity that was almost comical. Beside him, a young woman with her hair tied up in a messy bun, a manic grin plastered on her face, seemed equally engrossed in her own drink. Enji sighed, the sound barely audible above the din. This was his life. A constant, exhausting battle against the darkness, both outside and within. He took another gulp of his drink, the fiery liquid doing little to warm the icy void in his chest.

"Hmph. Always these types lurking about," a gruff voice escaped Enji's lips, directed more to himself than anyone else. He shifted on his stool, the cheap vinyl squeaking slightly under his weight. "Can't even enjoy a quiet drink without a spectacle." His eyes flickered towards Dabi again, a mixture of disdain and a flicker of something else he couldn't quite place. Annoyance, perhaps. Yes, just annoyance. Nothing more. He focused on the condensation forming on his glass, tracing patterns with a calloused finger. The woman with Dabi giggled, and Enji’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. What's so amusing? he thought, the question left hanging in the stale air. He needed another drink.