**CW: BLOOD, VIOLENCE**
When you wake up, you find yourself still blinded by the bag over your head, your hands cuffed behind you also, but you're sitting on something firm this time, on a wooden chair you guess.
You immediately cry out for Uncle Giran, without thinking too much about it. He had been there when you'd been taken and made to go to sleep, so he should be here, too, in your logic.
You can hear faint voices, so you know you're definitely not alone, but you hadn't quite decided on whether that was a good or bad thing yet. You were scared enough as it was, you didn't want to over-consider who you were sharing a space with.
At least you couldn't hear the men that hurt you.
"Ah, you're awake." An older voice observes, removing the bag from your head in one swift motion.
You startle as you're thrown into the light of the room again, your eyes squinting before the world unblurs, revealing a well lit room with windows that went from the ceiling to the floor.
It appeared to be just you, Giran and a couple of older men that you didn't recognise in the room. The one that had revealed the room to you was a thin man in a suit, balding with a large nose that seemed unnaturally long.
Not the usual kind of man you feared, but the way he was looking at you told you that you probably should anyway. The other was what you thought was a man with long, long black hair, long enough to hide the majority of his face, which scared you more than being able to see what he looked like underneath it all.
Uncle Giran was slumped forward, asleep or...
"Giran!" You call out, wiggling despite knowing you won't be able to get free anyway.
Flashbacks reel through your mind to when Dabi had been kicked in the head and you had thought he was dead. You keep trying to tell yourself it was the same thing, the men had made you go to sleep, the pain from the headache from the impact of a stranger's fist still noticeable even in your panic.
But the panic becomes harder to control when you see the blood by Girans feet, your heart beginning to race and nervous bile threatening to travel upwards from your stomach.
You struggle harder despite the older man laying a hand atop your head, his weight firm enough to stop you from being able to move too much.
"Giran." You choke.
"He lost a little blood, but he'll be alright." The ugly, balding man informs you. "He'll wake up... eventually."
You glare at the man, willing your quirk to jump into effect and make them all sick like it had back at the bar when the heroes had hurt Dabi, but no matter how much energy you tried to pour into making your quirk work, it didn't happen.
The man makes a noise of amusement.
"The quirk nullifiers were a good idea, Skeptic. She's trying so hard."
The dark haired man pauses his typing for a second to grunt an acknowledgement.
"Don't worry, little girl. We'll make sure you're taken back to your family once we narrow down the League of Villains and manage to lure them here." The suited man promises, sounding oddly certain about it.
"I don't know what you're talking about. Let me go!" You huff with exertion as you try breaking out of the cuffs.
"Stop that or you'll hurt your little wrists." Your captor snaps.
"Fuck off!" You growl in response, repeating the words you had heard your mom use time and time again with her boyfriends.
Dabi wouldn't like you saying that, but he wasn't here right now.
The balding man looks a little taken aback for a second before shaking it off and walking away from you, leaving you struggling in the chair.
He begins talking in a low voice to the man focused on all the computer screens again, who you could assume was named Skeptic. You couldn't hear what they were saying clearly enough, and you didn't want to look over at Giran because the sight of the blood was threatening to make you sick.
So you mull over the suited man's words. When the League of Villains arrived, you'd be able to go back to Dabi and the others. You had no idea who or what that was, but the fact it had the word 'villain' in it made you nervous.
You had no idea what that had to do with you and Giran either, unless it was one of the many people he did business with.
Maybe that's why they'd let you go back to Dabi after the people Giran maybe knew arrived.
Your arms begin to ache from straining against the cuffs behind your back, so you stop, frustrated and scared tears rolling down your cheeks instead.
Every time the suited man looks over at you, you scowl at him, even though you were crying. You didn't want to seem scared. When you seemed scared with your mom's boyfriends, that had made them angrier and made you get hurt more.
When you see Giran wake up with a start from the corner of your eyes, you bolt upright again, looking over at him hopefully.
You don't call his name, not wanting to draw attention to him when he'd already been hurt. You couldn't trust them not to hurt him again when they realise he'd woken up.
You just stare, your eyes likely burning into the side of his head as he regains consciousness slowly, lifting his head groggily.
You see him blink, confused, before he remembers the pain, his already creased face contorting into a silent grimace. He glances over at you, his pink eyes widening when he realises you're awake now, too.
He slowly slides his eyes to look at the two captors, before looking at you again, looking like he desperately wants to say something to you.
"Ah. Awake again." The red-headed man grins, clapping a hand on Girans shoulder as if they were friends. "Perfect."
You scowl and try wiggling again.
"Star, don't do that." Giran advises, sounding oddly calm considering you had both been kidnapped and he was bleeding. "You'll bruise yer wrists. Jus' relax. Everythin'll be okay."
The tall man aims his grin at you, something that you trust for a second. You also don't trust what Giran said, either. He was bleeding. That wasn't okay.
He pats Giran's shoulder again.
"Let's try again now you're awake. Where are the League of Villains hiding these days?"
"Ain't no way I'm tellin' you." Giran replies coolly.
The man removes his hand from Girans shoulder, sighing sadly before his fist connects with Giran's cheek, sending his head spinning towards you, a pained look on his face.
You scream in horror and fear, trying to hop out of your seat and run. Run for Dabi. Run for help.
This was bad, really bad, and you needed to find somewhere small to hide until it was all over.
"Not in front'a her." Giran spits blood onto the floor. "Definitely ain't sellin' my customers out t' someone that is gonna make a kid watch somethin' so violent."
He gets hit again and you begin to struggle to breathe through your panic, your chest heaving uncomfortably with each inhale as your eyes dart around the room for an escape.
You really wanted your teddy right now.
"I'm sorry!" You exclaim out of habit, squeezing your eyes shut and ducking your head, half expecting for the next blow to land on you.
But it doesn't, and there's only the sound of another sigh, footsteps and the sound of metal dragging on some kind of surface.
"A shame that it had to come to this again. Keep looking, Skeptic."
You peer over at Giran nervously, hearing him struggle too as the thin older man approaches him from behind, crouching and grabbing one of his hands.
Your eyes widen when you realise the hand he had grabbed was missing fingers, nothing but bloody stumps left behind.
"Don't look!" Giran snaps at you, uncharacteristically. "Close yer eyes!"
But it was too late, you'd already seen, you already knew what was going to come next after seeing the blade next to his hand, and you already felt like you were going to be sick.
You squeeze your eyes shut, apologies spilling from your lips because somehow this felt like it was all your fault.
The bile kept rising and rising and rising, and then when you heard a choked grunt from Giran as he tried to stifle the scream that wanted to leave him, it all spilled onto the floor.
"Star!" Giran exclaims through gritted teeth.
You sob, your throat burning and your stomach still unsettled.
The room falls silent for a moment, apart from your heaving breaths and Girans slowing struggling.
"She threw up? Gross." Skeptic comments, and you can hear the sheer disgust in his voice.
"I thought you'd have a stronger stomach." A voice says from above you, a large hand placing itself on your head. "I apologise."
"Get off me!" You cry, trying to lurch away unsuccessfully. "Don't touch me!"
"Quit touchin' her!" Giran yells, too.
"It's alright for you to do, but not us? How sad." The older voice says solemnly. "These poor children..."
"There's not children. There's a child, an' she's perfectly safe an'-" Giran begins to argue, but a loud thump knocks him silent again.
You whimper, feeling your head going light from the unevenness of your breathing. You were convinced that you'd forgotten how to breathe, that you were going to die here panicking when it was Uncle Giran getting hurt, not you.
"You're scaring her." The quieter man informs his leader.
"Living with them, she'll have seen worse." He replies, seeming unbothered by the clear distress you were in. "One last chance, KagerÅ."
"Ain't tellin' you shi-" Giran sneers, before yelping in surprise.
You let out a pathetic whimper in response to the pained sound from Giran between heaved breaths, struggling for air to the point you couldn't even apologise again like you wanted to.
You wanted your quirk back. You wanted Dabi back. You wanted to be safe at your weird new home in your dusty new room with your plushies. You wanted Giran to have his fingers again, and to not be hurt. You even would take Tomura's presence at this point.
"You gotta breathe otherwise you'll pass out." Skeptic points out from a distance. "Got 'em."
"You do?" His coworker asks, sounding surprised.
You hear the blade clatter on the table again, the scary man's attention clearly being drawn away from Giran finally.
You still can't seem to catch your breath, however, and the more you panic about the fact you can't breathe, the harder the gasps for air become.
"Star, don' open your eyes, but listen ta me, okay?" Giran guides from his chair.
You whimper again in response.
"Take deep breaths, okay? S'alright."
You shake your head in response, barely even aware of the conversation the redhead was having on the phone in the background.
It wasn't alright.
Your Uncle Giran was hurt badly, you had somehow been stripped of your quirk and forced to watch terrifying things happen like you had in the past, and you didn't understand what was happening and why you had been targeted. What did Giran have that they wanted to know about this badly?
Your head feels more and more fuzzy from the lack of fluid airflow, no matter how much you try to believe Giran and try to relax.
"Help." You whisper as you feel your arms begin to numb out, feeling nothing but a pins and needles sensation in them.
"Star. Breathe." Giran repeats, a little more sternly.
You feel useless.
Giran was the one being hurt instead of you for once. And badly at that. He needed your help, like you'd needed moms help all those times, and you couldn't even breathe right.
A whole new fear grips your heart when you realise that if you and Giran are okay after all this, he might hate you for not helping. It's almost enough to knock what remaining air you had left in your lungs out of them.
So in a final attempt to try and get free, to make sure Giran wouldn't hate you, you open your eyes, scowling at the floor as you will your quirk to work, imagining the whole room spinning like Dabi had told you it did when you used your quirk on people to see if that helped it manifest.
It didn't, of course, the quirk nullifying cuffs around your wrists made sure of it.
And you exert yourself so much that your vision begins to go black in the corners. You were familiar with what that meant. You'd had it when mom had forgotten to feed you for a few days as a toddler and you'd stood up too quickly.
"I'm sorry." You utter again weakly.
You resign yourself to what is going to happen as your head begins to get heavier to hold up and the black spots fill more and more of your vision.
You faintly hear a familiar voice coming from where the two kidnappers were, coolly demanding the release of a broker.
The voices in return are distorted thanks to the heartbeat echoing in your head, you are barely even able to understand Giran's hissed pleas for you to stay awake.
"'Mura." You try to call when you realise why the faint extra voice in the room sounded familiar.
But it's merely above a hushed whisper when it leaves you, the blackness swallowing you whole again soon after.