Dante lay sprawled across the ground, his limbs were bent in ways no human limbs should ever bend, dark red blood pulled beneath him. His vision was blurry and dark, lungs rattling with every inhale.
He couldn't move.
He couldn't even blink without pain crawling across his nerves.
A heat bloomed in his chest. A pulse—not from his heart, but deeper. From his quirk. Sludge stirred faintly inside of him, as if waking from a deep sleep. He could feel it sloshing around broken marrow and torn tissue.
Then, a shift.
His shattered bones, began moving.
"Ngh—GHAAAH!"
Dante arched and screamed. He wasn't regenerating. His body was reshaping what was already there.
Absorbing that Upper Tier Nomu seemed to change something within, maybe it's super regeneration merged with Dante's sludge? No, Dante's sludge was using that muscle memory of being able to regenerate.
The Nomu's regeneration wasn't grafted cleanly. Is was actually quite clumsy, incomplete, painful. But the Nomu couldn't feel pain, so they didn't feel it. But Dante did. A new instinct wove itself into his cells, pulling bone back into alignment, urging muscle fibers to reattach, crawling veins back into order.
Dante's terrible version of regeneration, slow, brutal, agonising.
Each rib twisted back into place felt like a knife slicing through him from the inside. His arms bent and snapped straight again. A femur slid back into the socket with a grind that made his eyes roll back.
But for some reason, he just wouldn't fall unconscious.
Thirty minutes.
Thirty minutes of biting his tongue until blood flooded his throat. Of chewing on his lips to stop himself from screaming.
Of feeling himself slowly being rebuilt, one slow inch at a time.
And finally… he sat up.
Every part of him throbbed. His hair clung to his skin, soaked in sweat and blood. But he was whole again.
Barely.
He staggered forward, sludge bracing his right leg, his left shoulder twitching involuntarily. He limped toward the steel cage.
Inside, the children huddled—dirty, trembling, crying. They hadn't looked away from the battle, they watched Dante fight until the very end.
He reached for the lock.
His fingers shook. But with effort, he crushed the lock in his grasp and the door creaked open.
For a second, no one moved.
Then—
They all rushed him.
Dozens of tiny arms wrapped around his torso and leg. Small hands clutched him. They cried against his body.
"You saved us…"
"We thought you died!"
"Don't go!"
"Thank you…"
"Thank you…"
Dante stood there as the children cried into his wounds. Their tears stung like a bitch as they landed on open cuts, but he didn't flinch.
He couldn't.
He needed to make sure the children were safe.
He rested one trembling hand on the child wearing his scarf's head and gave a weak smile.
"…You're safe now," he whispered, voice raw and dry. "It's over."
But in his heart he knew this was just one facility of many.
Still…
Seeing these children safe made Dante just a little happier.
Once the children started to calm down, Dante's gaze flicked toward one of the unconscious men in black suits—those who had kidnapped the kids. He knelt, reaching into the man's inner coat pocket and pulling out a sleek black phone.
The screen flickered to life.
Dante dialed.
"119, what's your emergency?"
"I called before regarding kidnapped children, I have just found a trafficking facility… there was sixteen children, they are safe now but they need picking up."
A pause.
"Again, I don't know the location. Track the phone I'm calling from."
There was stunned silence in the other end. He could hear the operator scrambling.
"Who is this?" They finally asked.
Dante didn't answer.
He hung up.
Outside, the air was cold. The children shivered as they followed Dante out through the shattered remnants of the bunker entrance. He guided them across the cracked dirt and ruined concrete with slow, tired steps, the unconscious suited men and scientists slung over his back via crude restraints of sludge.
They reached the open field where the truck was parked.
Dante set the bodies down carefully. He turned to the children, all of them gathered together in a single file line, watching him with wide, weary eyes.
He knelt to their level, breath still heavy. His voice was quiet, tired but steady.
"Stay here. The police are coming. They will take you back to your mommy and daddy okay?"
A girl, no older than eight, stepped forward and held his wrist. "Aren't you coming with us?"
Dante paused.
He looked down.
"…I can't."
"But you saved us—"
Three sets of red and blue lights started to flash nearby, Dante knew he needed to leave.
He started to walk away, limping.
One boy ran forward, grabbing his hand, "Please let me come with you."
Dante stopped for a second and looked down.
It was the boy wearing his scarf and mask, Dante didn't ask for them back, he didn't wanna upset the kid.
"Stay here, kid. Your mommy misses you, you can't come with me."
"But—"
The police lights came closer, the cars became visible.
Dante ruffled the kids hair and started to run away, his silhouette swallowed by the darkness.
The children stood in silence as the police cars arrived.
But one kid just couldn't sit still.
As Dante's feet pounded against the dirt as the wind whipped through his matted hair. His ribs ached, every breath was a stab, but he was moving again, thankfully.
The regeneration was scuffed and unorthodox but it was enough, and after some rest, he was sure he'd be as good as new.
He was about to leap into the air and take flight when—
fwshhh-fwsh—FWWSH—FWWSHHH!!
Dante's ears twitched.
The wind changed.
He stopped abruptly, feet skidding to a halt as a shape broke through the trees behind him—small, fast, gaining ground with a strange acceleration. At first it looked like a blur of movement with bright blue and purple light, but as it got closer, Dante recognised the boy.
The grey and blue haired kid.
The one who was wearing Dante's scarf and mask.
"…What the hell are you doing out here?" Dante asked, brow furrowed. "You should be with the others. Your parents are probably worried sick."
The boy skidded to a stop infront of him, chest heaving. He didn't look happy at the mention of parents—in fact, he looked quite upset.
"…They're not," the boy said, panting. "They're dead."
Dante narrowed his eyes. The kid didn't flinch.
"They were killed by the people who took us. But… it doesn't matter. They used to hurt me anyway."
Dante stiffened slightly. His eyes scanned the boys frame, and there it was. Aside from the strange colourful marks on his body, there were bruises. Familiar patterns. Thin, uneven discolouration beneath the skin of his arms and legs.
He recognized them.
"…Shit," Dante whispered.
The kid looked down. Kicked at the dirt.
"I don't have anywhere to go. I don't want anyone to take me in if they can't protect me. I don't wanna go to some group home or get locked in with strangers again."
He looked up, his eyes were sharp and determined, despite the tiredness, despite the trauma still hanging over him.
"Can I stay with you?"
Dante blinked.
"…What?"
The kid stepped forward. "You saved us, you didn't leave us behind, even when you were really hurt. I can help you. I'm fast, you saw me right? I can be your sidekick!"
Dante stayed silent.
The wind passed between them.
"…Please," the boy said, voice cracking. "Don't leave me behind."
There was something in his voice Dante couldn't just ignore.
Something he remembered in his own voice, years ago—different world, different body.
"I can't do that… I'm barely looking after myself, I won't be able to care for you." Dante said, looking around awkwardly.
The kid seemed to think for a second before he put his hands together. "I can look after myself!"
Dante sighed, "You're too young. I'd be irresponsible to let you do that. I'll take you to an orphanage."
The kids eyes started to tear up, "Please don't leave me! I wanna live with you!"
Dante put his hand on his forehead. He didn't speak. He didn't smile.
He just let out a slow sigh and turned around, walking forward without a word.
The boys eyes lit up. He ran after him.
"…What's your name?" Dante finally asked.
"My name is Rinji."
Dante nodded.
"…You can stay, but only for a week or so, you can't live with me forever."
And just like that, the two walked off into the woods.