The reinforced metal door shut behind Dante heavily, the echo of its weight rattling slightly through the walls. The room was clinical, cold, quiet and very bright. A large, clear panel of reinforced glass divided the chamber in two. On either side of it sat a single chair and a wall mounted telephone.
Dante hesitated for a moment, his breath slow, trying to control it. He could feel his pulse.
Then the other door opened.
His father stepped in.
Gone was the monstrous, oozing Sludge Villain that had caused chaos for many to see. In his place stood a familiar man, thin, older than he remembered, but definitely his father. His features were worn down by months of confinement, eyes sunken and ringed with exhaustion. His body trembled slightly as he stepped forward, sitting down across from Dante with his bright green eyes wide and already beginning to glisten.
Dante sat down slowly, picking up the phone with shaky hands. His father did the same.
For a second, no one said anything.
Then—
"I'm sorry."
The words hit harder than Dante had thought they would. Dante's eyes narrowed, but he didn't speak just yet. He just listened.
"I'm so sorry, Dante." His father said, voice already cracking. "For leaving you behind. For not being strong enough to protect your mother. For turning tail and running away to become what I am now. For not looking for you… for having accepted the fact you were living a good life with a new family, not considering the idea that you might've had to survive on your own."
His voice broke. He began sobbing, loud and raw, and it was the kind of crying that was kept away, building up over years of guilt, regret and helplessness. "I should've been the one to die that day. Not her. Not you. I became… I let myself become something horrible because I couldn't live with what I thought I'd lost. All my life I'd been seen as a monster, treated like something inhuman and it caught up to me, I proved everyone right. I should've been there for you, I should've been a father to you. And for that, Dante, I'm truly sorry."
Dante didn't realise that he was crying too. He could feel the burning in his eyes, the heat on his cheeks, the tightness in his throat, the tears streaming down his face. His jaw clenched, and tears slipped down in silence.
But next to him, in the reflection of the glass, he saw himself, or rather, Little Dante.
The small, kinda evil version of himself had arrived. His tiny fists were clenched, tears pouring down his face without regret. He pressed his palms against the glass , sobbing, after all… he was the one who was truly abandoned, who had watched everything fall apart without being able to do anything about it.
"I missed you,"
"I missed you," Dante whispered into the phone, echoing Little Dante's words, pressing his own hand against the glass.
His father pressed his hand to the glass too, his own tears streaking silently down. "I never stopped thinking about you. Not for one second."
Dante sniffed, wiping his face with the sleeve of his shirt. He hadn't tried to stop the tears. There wasn't any point, this wasn't the time to play strong.
"I… I don't even know what kind of person you grew up to be," he said quietly, shamefully. "I missed everything. Your first day of middle school. Your first day of high school. Your quirk." His fingers curled tightly around the phone. "Tell me… about you. What kind of life have you lived, Dante? Where are you now? Are you in school? Do you… have many friends? A girlfriend?"
The question brought a small, shaky breath from Dante. Almost a laugh. Almost.
"Yeah… yeah, I'm in school," he said softly, "U.A."
His fathers eyes widened, stunned. "You're… at U.A.?"
Dante gave a small nod. "I got… I got special recommendation, I'm in Class 1-A. The Hero course."
His father looked like he was about to cry again. He leaned back in his chair, exhaling through his nose as he muttered, "you really are just like her…"
Dante's brows lifted slightly. "Her?"
"You look just like your mother," his father said, smiling faintly through her tears. "You have the same red eyes. The same blonde hair. She wanted to be a hero too, you know. She would've been so proud of you. I just know it—just sitting here. You're strong. You've grown up so strong."
Dante looked down, lips pressed tightly together, not sure of what to say. But little Dante stepped into the reflection again, a little calmer now. He didn't speak, he just nodded at Dante.
His father continued, "How… how have you been living? These past years… I need to know."
Dante's jaw tightened again. "Rough. After you disappeared, after… they said you killed mom, I bounced around here and there. I lived on rooftops, parks, benches. I had to fight to survive." His voice grew harder, but not angry, just honest. "I learned my way around, I got a job and the owner of the shop let me sleep in the storage room, after that, I started fighting for money and made my way up, I bought myself an apartment and here I am."
His father shut his eyes, pain creasing his brow. "You shouldn't have had to go through that."
"But I did go through it," Dante said, firm now. "And I'm still here. I've got people now. A few friends. And well… there's Kendo too…"
"Kendo?"
Dante's ears turned faintly pink. "Her names Itsuka Kendo. She's very strong. She keeps me grounded."
A proud smile touched his fathers face. "That's good for you, Dante."
There was silence for a moment, heavy but not uncomfortable.
"I wish I could've been there for you," his father said at last. "To see the boy you were. But I'm okay with seeing the man you became."
Dante swallowed hard.
"Now, I have questions." He whispered, then leaned forward.
"Sorry this is so sudden, but I'm sure we're time limited. So how can you hold your full body sludge form all the time?"
His father blinked, slightly surprised by the sudden technical question. But he answered anyways.
"I trained it. At first, I couldn't even hold it for more than a few minutes. But slowly, as I used it more, I was able to use it for up to ten minutes. But after I lost everything… the sludge became everything I had left. It wasn't just my quirk anymore, it was me. I stopped treating it like a tool and started treating it like my body. You just need to accept it as who you are. Not something you control."
Dante nodded slowly, his eyes narrowing slightly. That made sense. He'd thought so.
He took a breath, one that shook a little, and then, with a sharp exhale, his tone shifted completely.
"Then tell me something else. Something I've been thinking about all these years."
His father looked at him, puzzled.
Dante's voice lowered. "Tell me about that day. The day you ran away. The day… Mom died."
Through the glass, Dante's father went still. His hands clenched the phone tighter. Behind Dante, the observation room changed too. Nezu's paw twitched slightly and Aizawa straightened. Even a couple guards exchanged weary glances.
"Dante…" his father whispered.
"No lies." Dante said coldly. "I need to know. I've had my suspicions, I think I know what happened, so what happened."
A pause, then his father let out a ragged breath.
"I… I'd just gotten fired that morning," he began, voice heavy. "My supervisor said my quirk made the others uncomfortable, even though I'd just saved someone. My day started off in a dark place."
His voice broke a little. "I didn't even go home straight away, I was just kinda walking around, aimlessly, trying to calm myself down. Then I heard something in an alley. I heard my wife talking to someone, she sounded uncomfortable and disturbed. So I ran."
His eyes filled with tears again. "She was cornered by police. They were saying she was under suspicion of being a villain. But it was clear, they were harassing her. I don't know why. I tried to ask what was going on, to help. But the moment I even tried to speak..."
He wiped his face with his sleeve, breathing shakily.
"One of them panicked and shot her. Right infront of me."
Dante's fingers curled around the phone, knuckles white.
Little Dante's face looked like something out of a horror movie, he was furious. His hatred only burning brighter from this encounter.
"I lost it," his father whispered. "I didn't think. I didn't feel. I just reacted. I killed them all. Every single one of them. Their backup came and I tore through them, too. I didn't stop. I didn't stop until I finally regained my senses. I was standing in the middle of the street, covered in blood, I had become the monster everyone else would see me as. People were screaming, running away."
Tears fell freely down his face. "So I ran too. I ran and I never ever looked back. Because I thought… I thought I'd die anyway."
Silence.
Dante sat frozen. His heart was a war drum inside his ribs. The truth… he knew it. He tried to forget it. But this explained everything.
Behind the glass, Aizawa and Nezu remained stone faced. Nezu was worried, this is what he was dreading. Dante hearing this could trigger something, a hatred not even he could suppress.
Dante finally spoke, voice low.
"You ran."
Little Dante looked straight at Dante. "I don't care anymore, we will get our revenge. We're done playing hero."
Dante looked back at him. "…Maybe you're right."