Hawks Week 2020 - Prompt: Rebirth
Character: Keigo Takami - Hawks
Warnings: Angst, some adult language, the drama of growing up
“They need you to pick a name, Keigo. You’re old enough now and the data has shown that you’re learning how to control your quirk. The advancements we’ve seen in the last few months have been outstanding. The HPSC wants you to start making a name for yourself, publicly. We’re hoping, in six or so years, you’ll be operating on a professional level.
So, look over those names and pick one. Once you do, you’ll no longer go by Keigo Takami. No, that name will be expunged from the records.”
Why? He’d wanted to ask. Why can’t he keep his name? Does it really matter? What were they going to do with him? Why was he even in this program?
There were so many questions racing through his mind. But, he just nodded and looked out the window. What good did it do to ask? They weren’t going to tell him anything. This was all just another manipulation. They always tried, so, so hard to let him feel like he had a say in his name, in his life, in anything.
In reality, he was just their little puppet, floating along on a tight string.
Notes: Part of Hawks Week 2020, Day 7 - Prompt: Rebirth.
This fic, like my Shigaraki exploration, Phantasma is part of a smaller series I’m calling Hopscotch. There’s a ton of kids in the BNHA universe that just need a freaking hug, man. But, all this trauma does give me some nice topics to write about…Not beta edited, so all mistakes are mine, and mine alone.
Moniker
mon·i·ker
/ˈmänəkər/
noun
a name.
Keigo Takami is a ward of the Hero Public Safety Commission.
He’s been a ward for most of his life. He’s used to the routine: the daily drills, the daily training, the daily lessons, the daily lectures, the daily monotony of it all.
There’s always a few of them hovering. They, being the agents who are assigned to his daily care and maintenance. They’re like black spots, bleeding out against the clean, crisp linoleum floors. He’s shuttled around like a chess piece. As if he needs a shadow to guide him. He knows this building inside and out. He knows just where to perch if he wants to avoid the cameras and he knows the secrets of at least five or six of his handlers.
They blurt stuff out around him. People never think kids are listening. Too bad for them, cuz, he’s got enough dirt to take them straight to the top if he wanted to. Not that he wants to. Some of the handlers are nice, but Keigo has learned that sometimes nice is another way to say: manipulative.
