#hawksweek2020

So, he imagines that he can flex a little control over them, too. He’s got the information, he’s just not sure who to take it to. He’s never seen the head of the HPSC. They remain an enigma. The leader of this whole thing is the one piece he hasn’t slipped onto the puzzle. No, whoever they are, they’re mysterious. He only knows they exist because he’s seen their hen scratch of a signature on his progress reports and monthly, “how are you doing Keigo,” emails. 

Despite the mystery, the head of the HPSC is the one constant in his life. He can’t say the same of his handlers. Most of the people who surround him shift and change. They’re like a tide.

When he was younger, his father used to take him down to the beach. Keigo was always fascinated by the pull, the drag, of that dark blue water.

Yeah, these handlers of his moved in and out like a tide. Every month it was someone else. One or two might be familiar faces, but they never told him their names. Well, not their real names at least. No, no one ever revealed those. Keigo was accustomed to the secrecy of it all. It was kinda boring. 

But, most days were. 

It was just him and the various adults who were tasked with his lessons or training schedules. It was a never ending circle, a rotation of sameness that made his teeth ache. There were no other kids at the base. No, lucky him, he was the only one selected to receive this special training.

When he was smaller he’d been a little more excited. He’d wander behind the dark suits, clutching his Endeavor figure to his chest, his eyes scanning every room, every person, every crevice. 

You can never be too careful Kei, his father had told him, his golden eyes winking down at him. Always keep your eyes and ears open. 

“It’s a special program, Keigo. Starting today, you need to say goodbye to your name. You’re going to become a very special hero, okay?” 

It was a younger man who had talked with him that afternoon. He can remember looking down at his toy, the plastic heavy, sticking to his clenched arms. Keigo can recall his small voice asking the man two questions: “Can I be like him? Can I be a hero who beats the bad guys?”

At the time, they had felt so, well, important to him. They were all encompassing, vital queries that needed to know the answer to back then. He disliked them now. They were stupid questions. Besides, what self respecting adult takes the word of a six year old seriously? 

He’s eleven now. He’s way past those childish dreams. And, they still hadn’t taken his name from him. Oh, they hinted at it. He’d even caught sight of one of the lists. 

The lists were the long rows and rows of potential hero names for Keigo. Not that he was asked much about any of this. His opinion didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. He’d only managed to see one of the lists a few years ago. His handler hadn’t been expecting him back so fast. 

He wasn’t supposed to use his wings unless he was in the training facility. Little did they know, he’d been practicing. How could he not? He could feel each and every tiny thing with his feathers. It drove him insane. If he was drifting off to sleep he would feel the electricity humming through the walls. When he focused hard enough he could hear the distant conversations happening on the floors above him. 

It was an endless march of noise, emotion, and sensations. He felt like he was overstimulated all the time, his skin too heavy for his bones. He wanted to scream some days: get these off me, I can’t, I-I can’t take it. But, he had to learn how to grapple with his quirk. It was part of him. 

Still, sometimes he wished he was someone, anyone else. 

‘Turn it off’, they said, ‘dampen the urge to reach out with your feathers’. 

Yeah, right. Let them slip into his quirk, see how much they liked the all consuming sensation of it all. It was too much, too intense. Some days it’s a fight to make himself get out of his bed. Everything is just...too close, sometimes. 

He’s just a kid, he wanted to tell them. Like that would grant him a reprieve. No, he already knew what answer they would give him. The HPSC had selected you for a purpose, a reason, Keigo. 

They fed him such vague, well, bullshit. Yeah, he knows he shouldn’t say words like that, whatever. They shouldn’t be doing this, er, whatever it was that they were hoping to achieve with him. But, it’s not like the confirmed acknowledgement of their preposterousness would stop them. No, he’d learned to keep his mouth shut and his eyes open. It was the best way to survive the endless march of days and weeks. He would nod, practice, and then practice a little more in secret. 

It’s his quirk after all. If he could perfect it, maybe they would loosen his leash.  

His wings were still a little stunted. They could grow to longer points, but it took a lot of time and a lot of concentration. It was like his body knew exactly what he could, or could not, in this case, handle. More feathers meant more sensations. More sensations meant less sleep, less control, and, worst of all, less autonomy. There would be more tests, more training, more, more, more. 

Still, he worked at it. It was a double edged sword. He both hated, and loved, the improvements he saw within himself. 

Despite his impeded wing growth, Keigo could flap himself along now. He could even hover in the air for a little while, but his back would protest the strain after forty minutes or so. It hurt to hold himself up. His shoulders just weren't broad enough to maintain his weight. He’d been hoping that eating a little more would help. You know, beef him up a little. 

He’d brought the subject up with one of his handlers, one of the ones he actually knew. The man had nodded, his curly blonde hair bobbing around his ears. And, with that, his food rations were extended. He was also given some other choices too. Some steak, veal, higher protein foods. He’d stubbornly stuck with chicken. He liked the taste. Never one to pass up an opportunity, Keigo took advantage of the larger portions and he gorged himself on the succulent meat. 

Four weeks later, he hadn’t grown much. Maybe what, half a pound? Nah, most of that energy must have been consumed by his quirk. But, the more he ate, the easier it was to focus on it. Meh, still a win, win. At least from the HPSC’s viewpoint. 

He mentioned that there are never any kids around the HPSC training facility, right? 

Adults? You couldn’t swing a dead cat and not hit at least 4 or 5 of them, at any given moment. Keigo didn’t mind. He was used to adults. By nature he was quiet, observant. It was his habit to position himself in the corners of rooms. It let him see anyone and everyone who entered or left. He likes watching. But, he’s done that his whole life. Even before the HPSC picked him up he’d learned how to hone that skill. 

Now, the trainers and handlers were trying to break him of that tic. 

‘You need to curb that Keigo’, they’d say. ‘If you’re going to become a successful hero you can’t just sit in the shadows. We already have plenty of agents who are trained for that. No, you need to be more gregarious. Speak up, talk with people. You’ve been drilled in this skill, now show us what you’ve learned. We want you to be a hero’.

So, he myna birds what they ask. They’ll leave him alone that way. Sure, sure, he’s rewarded with gifts, with praise, with extra free time. But, it’s all so calculated. He can smell their intentions a mile away. He’s seen the books some of them read. They were books with titles like: The Psychology of the Child, The Developing Mind, Playing and Reality. 

If that wasn’t obvious enough, he’d heard some of the conversations they passed as they handed off their shifts, the words lilting back and forth, like secret notes. 

“Ignore his minor tactics. It’s just him responding to the attention. Only praise him when he’s behaving.” Or, “Give Keigo labeled praise. You know, build his self esteem. He’s so quiet, it’s hard to tell what he’s thinking. Pack a snack for him. That way when he opens up to you, boom! Treat in hand.”

Do they not realize how much he can hear? God, adults are dumb. Smile and give them what they want, or, say what they most need to hear and they’re eating out of your hand. Meanwhile, as they’re congratulating themselves on a job well done, they had no idea what thoughts were racing behind his golden irises. 

No, Keigo is motivated by other things. One motivation trumps all the others: he wants to get outta this place. Just for a day, heck, he’d take an hour. Keigo is tired of the same walkway, the same lunch hall, the same dreary views of the city. 

It’s springtime in Japan and Keigo can make his feathers molt. It’s a newer skill, one he’s withholding from his handlers for the time being. Maybe if he feigns a cough, he can pretend to be sick? He’s gotten pretty good at acting now. That was another one of his classes. It was like a, how to deceive someone 101. Actually, it was prolly called something like ‘Espionage for Tots’. 

It was fun. He liked the smiles and serious faces he was asked to make. They should have slapped a big: “please, Keigo, don’t use these skills to deceive us” disclaimer on the door. He liked the guy that taught it, too. He was a short, unassuming man, but he would genuinely grin at Keigo each time he walked through the door for his session. Oh, wait. Was that just an act? He’d have to ask him. Boy, he’s good if it was. He needs to shore up his own skills…

He could always pretend that an imaginary sick day was part of the lesson. Look! My poor feathers, they’re molting, how sad. Also, cough, cough, I feel ill. No, ill is a bad choice of words. Ahem, I mean, I don’t feel so good. Can I lay down? Maybe prop open my window, for the fresh air. Oh no! I accidentally swooped out. Cough, cough.  

Keigo isn’t even sure what he’d do with himself if he could manage to sneak out. It’s not like he’s not noticeable. He’s sporting at least 7 feet of ruby red plumage now. Well, if he’s gonna plan an escape, he might as well do it-

“Keigo,” it’s a sharp voice, and it startles him out of his musings. It belongs to one of the head handlers. Kaori? Yeah, that’s her name. Eh, the one she’d given him at least. She’s nice enough, a little rough around the edges at times, but she’s fair. Maybe, oh, maybe he can ask her about-

“Are you listening, Keigo? We need to go. The provost was expecting us over an hour ago. Where have you been? Mai couldn’t find you so she asked me to look for you.”

“I was up there.” Keigo points, his chin lifting to follow his movement, wings fluttering against his back. Despite her tone, Kaori doesn’t seem too upset. Her heartbeat is normal. But, that didn’t mean much around here.

“Up there?” Kaori’s tone is faint and a little awed. She turns her violet gaze to his, pursing her lips into a thin line. “Since when?”

“It’s been, ah, three months and sixteen days since I first made it to that perch. They didn’t like that I went so far. Eiichi said he was going to document it though. I mean, it ain’t too far. Guess I can go for a lower spot next time. I just like that I can see more up there, it makes it-”

“No, no. It’s fine Keigo. Don’t say “ain’t,” it’s slang. I suppose it has been awhile since I’ve seen you. How old are you now? Ten?”

“Eleven,” Keigo replies, his back straightening, wings arching beside his head.

“Mmm, eleven. Gosh, you’re growing up fast,” Kaori’s reply is sharp, practiced. Keigo rolls his eyes. She wanted to spark a reaction out of him. See if he’ll puff up with joy or grow sullen with her mistake of thinking he’s younger than he is. It’s easier to assign him extra training than really deal with him. At least, that’s what some of his handlers seemed to think. 

“Have you seen the news?” Kaori asks, violet eyes resting on his amber ones. “There’s a mission coming up. Endeavor’s agency is taking it on.”

Keigo feels his wings lifting again, but he quickly suppresses the motion, his shoulders hunching forward. He never, ever, wanted to seem too eager. Not when they’d primed him for such an obvious tell. It’s not like they didn’t know what heroes he admired. 

Yeah, Keigo had seen the news. He was permitted two hours of television each day. Most blocks were taken up with watching the latest developments. Sometimes he would shift the channel to a cartoon, but the television time would be lessened if he watched nonsense for too long. No, the tv was for educational purposes only, not for leisure or fun. He’d heard that line enough to have it memorized. 

“What about it?” Keigo asks, falling into step with Kaori. She’s taking the long way back to his next lesson. Clearly, she’s wanting to glean something from him. 

“Well, I was thinking it might be beneficial for you to observe the mission.”

“What, like on CCTV or something?”

“No. In person. We would need to fit into the crowd, but this mission has been widely publicized, it’s a miracle the villain’s haven’t heard about it.”

“That, or they want the fight.”

Kaori laughs. “Very good, excellent observation. You’ve improved Keigo. Consider this a set date. I will personally escort you to the mission viewing point. At the end of the exercise, I would like to hear your opinion on the matter.”

Keigo bites his tongue. 

It’s too slick again, too obvious. The mission Kaori mentioned fits the profile of a raid, not the everyday, run of the mill, villain sting. Endeavor’s agency had been squaring up with the lower level fighting rings for months now. This was just another day for him. The number two hero promised to clean up crime and he was following through with that assertion. 

So, why take him to see it now? Why did it matter if Keigo saw it in person? The data and video would be uploaded the next day to the HPSC database, he could just watch it and take notes then. 

Why is she doing this?

Keigo chances a glance at her face. She’s pale, stern and stoic above him. Her heels click on the tiles and her back is ramrod straight. A few feathers bristle, feeling, listening, nah, her pulse is steady too. It’s hopeless. Maybe this is the challenge? Something to test him, to try and see if he can get a read on the unreadable?

“What’s the point of me going? What good does it do? My data sheets haven’t slipped enough to call for anything like this.”

“Don’t be so critical of everything Keigo,” Kaori scolds him, her purple eyes lingering on his spreading plumage. “It’s not a test, it’s not a drill. I just...I can remember what it was like to be a teenager and be trapped doing something I didn’t want to do.”

Again, Keigo is silent after her declaration. He’s not really sure how to answer. Pragmatic, logical, even angry responses, he’s used to those. This? What is this? Some kinda misplaced empathy? He never would have placed an empathetic bone in Kaori’s body before today. 

They pause at the provost’s doorway and Kaori places an arm on his shoulder, demanding his attention with her strong grip. 

“Let me know by tomorrow.” 

And, with that, she’s gone, pacing down the long hallway, her heels tapping a sharp tattoo against the flooring. Keigo narrows his eyes, avian pupils dilating, focusing. Sure, maybe it was just an opportunity, a chance for him to get out of the headquarters for a while, but there’s always a catch. 

******

The email comes a few hours later. 

Keigo is sprawled across his bed, his wings tucked safely along his shoulders as he flips through his textbook. He lifts his head from his pillow and sighs heavily at the familiar chime from his computer. It’s either more geometry problems or it’ll have something to do with what Kaori was discussing: The Endeavor mission.

His wings shift and rustle as he stands. He’s agitated, on edge. He dislikes being maneuvered into a corner. No matter what the email is over, he’ll feel obligated to say yes. Even if it’s by default. 

Keigo steps up to his computer, his long fingers racing over the keypad, typing in his encrypted password. As he waits for the screen to load, his eyes fall to the battered figurine beside his monitor. 

It’s the Endeavor toy. He’s kept it all these years, safe and sound, in each bedroom he’s moved to. The flames are dull and his bright blue uniform is more mottled than cobalt, but it’s still a tiny piece of his other life. 

His father had given it to him. It was years ago. He hadn’t thought he was going to get anything for his birthday, but then, his father had flown in, his own plumage glimmering against the dying sunlight and presented four year old Keigo with the toy. He had clutched it to him, his eyes shining and bright. 

“Dad! Ah, how did you know?” 

His father had beamed at him, his eyes softening at the sight of his son’s genuine smile. Keigo didn’t smile a lot back then. Their life was too tumultuous, too chaotic. There was too much at stake. His father had gathered him up and pressed the button that activated the toy’s internal voice box. Keigo had squealed with delight and wrapped his arms around his father’s neck. 

Now, Keigo traces a single finger along the top of the Endeavor’s head, running along the dimmed flames. He’s seen a decent amount of coverage on the number two hero lately. He’d even gone as far as studying his moves. Not that it mattered. His quirk would never be a match for the flame heroes skills. But, he had to admire the guy. 

He was constantly overshadowed, outranked and outclassed by All Might. Still, Endeavor pushed forward. He’s the only one who really tried to overtake the number one hero. It was both impressive and, well, kinda pathetic, desperate even. All the same, Keigo kept hunting for news of the number two. Once you have a favorite, Keigo reasoned, you tend to stick with them. 

Tearing his eyes away from the little figurine, Keigo clicks on the new email. He blinks a few times, even rubs his eyes. No, no way. He spreads his fingers along the computer’s trackpad, enhancing the words. Yeah, no, it’s really there. 

It’s the list. 

Remember? The one with all the HPSC’s approved names for him? 

It’s, well, it’s even more anticlimactic than he was expecting. Damn, it’s over three pages of the most asinine, inane bullshit. Two bad words, oh no, and in one sentence. In his defense, this crap deserved a whole string of curse words.  

There are names like: REDWING, Darkbird, Vulture, WINGMAN, Canary, Condor, RED Condor, Northwind, Zauriel, Red jay, WING. God, it’s just page after page of trash. Whomever they paid to create this, well, they needed a new day job. Might as well just call him: BIRDBOY or something. Sighing, Keigo clicks out of the email, his plumage lifting and lowering, feathers rustling again, perturbed. Yeah, he’s got wings. So what? That’s not all he is.  

Keigo is about to pace back to his bed when another email chimes in. Groaning, he doesn’t even look at the sender before opening it. Oh.

It’s from Kaori and the head of the HPSC. They were wanting to confirm the viewing of the Endeavor mission. Both felt that it was a good use of Keigo’s time and the HPSC’s resources. They just need his answer.

Funny, Keigo thinks, tapping a quick reply, they always like to pretend that he has a say in things. 

******

He’s never been a tall kid. He’s not sure if it’s his quirk or something genealogical. Quirk makes the most sense. It’s hard enough to lug his own tiny body around, he can’t even imagine trying to pull someone like Endeavor into the air. 

Keigo’s seen the number two plenty of times. God, hundreds and hundreds of times, really. But, he’s not prepared for the hulk of a man that is standing before him. Enji Todoroki, that’s his real name. Most heroes don’t hide their civilian names. No, they’re all listed in the databases of the HPSC and open for public scrutiny. Keigo shifts on the balls of his feet, his toes tapping against the pavement. Apparently, that’s not going to be an option for him.

Kaori had sat, prim and proper, next to him in the long black car as they drove to the mission site. Her violet eyes were dull flints of purple as she relayed the news: 

“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. 

Keigo looked over the police tape to Endeavor again. Even the number two hero got to keep his name. What makes Keigo so different?

“They’ll be rushing the entrance soon,” Kaori says, her arms crossed, her pressed suit dark against the bright sunlight. “You might be able to see it a little better if you move to the other end of the street.” 

Keigo looks up at her, his eyes impassive. Kaori, sensing his gaze, blinks down at him. “Don’t go far. Consider this a small reward for good behavior. I know what I told you in the car can’t have been easy to hear. Don’t make me regret giving you a little more freedom.” 

For a long moment, Keigo is still. 

He wants to dash off. He’s never done that. It would be nice to place a little distance between him and his handler. Plus, he’s outside. It’s a beautiful day, just puffy clouds and the fresh, clean smell of springtime. Well, and the hustle and bustle of the raid that is unfolding across the street. He looks up at Kaori and her violet eyes lift away from him. She shakes her head and a small smile creeps across her lips. 

“Go on, you better hurry. Endeavor’s about to enter the building.”

It’s all the prodding he needs. Like a shot, Keigo is dashing through the crowd. A few people clamor around him, their voices distant, complaints and admonishments ringing over his golden head. He rounds the street corner and his wings lift, testing the air, trying to tug him into the skies. 

Amber eyes flash as he looks for the perfect spot. Ah-ha! There’s a low, tiled roof across the street. If he can get up to the second story he should be able to see into the back of the compound Endeavor is conducting the raid on.

His back aches, muscles tired and straining, but he ignores the sting. His wings lap against the warm air and, just like that, he’s landing on the roof, his sneakers bright against the dark tile. Keigo turns back to the compound. Yes! Perfect! He can see everything. His wings settle along his shoulders, still lifted as he crouches down, the plumage vibrating, listening.

Keigo can hear some of the transmission between the heroes. Their radios are switched up and the static sound makes his nose wrinkle. It feels fuzzy, almost like he’s stepped on a live wire. Apparently, Endeavor is about to move into the exposed courtyard and Keigo sits up straighter, his wings spreading, cupping under the low wind. He’s so focused on catching sight of the number two that he doesn’t hear the warning cry.

No, he only notices the danger when it’s too late.

His feathers bristle, arching, quivering, reacting as a set of talons rips into his delicate plumage. His wings throb. It stings and he feels the anger, the rage that is coursing through the culprit that’s attacking him. Their screams make his ears ache and he rolls away, his hands instinctively covering his head, protecting himself from the sudden onslaught. His golden eyes are narrowed and searching. What the hell-

The pieces fit into place when he sees her. 

It’s a hawk. She’s already taken to the skies, her dark wings wheeling her back to the roof. She lifts upward, the strong winds carrying her high, against the clouds. Then, she’s diving, her feathers bracing along her sides, propelling her at a terrifying speed. 

She’s headed straight for him. 

Keigo, unthinkingly, rolls out of the way, his own wings flaring open and flapping him a good ten feet or so, hopefully placing him out of range. The hawk pulls up, another scream echoing across the sky. She wheels around, her sharp beak and eyes trained on him. Keigo’s foot slips against the uneven surface of the roof and he bites his lip, his ankle twisting painfully. 

“Hey! Keigo! Oh, there you are. Come on! The raid is wrapping up, we need to get back.”

Kaori’s voice shudders up his spine, his oversensitive wings making her sound like a foghorn. Wait. The raid is over? He whirls back to the compound, his eyes scanning, flashing in his agitation. 

No. No, no, no. 

She’s right. Endeavor and his sidekicks are already back at the front of the building, he can’t even see them clearly from here. He’s missed his chance. Damn it. 

It’s not fair, he thinks, a misting of tears clouding his sight. He’d been so close. And now? Now, he’s gotta go back to that stupid building. Now, they’re going to take away his name and force him to do even more training. Who knows when he’ll get out again. It’s just, it’s not freaking fair.

Keigo wipes his arm against his eyes, pulling the moisture across his sleeve. He can’t let Kaori see him cry. He hasn’t cried in years. He’s not going to give them the satisfaction of knowing that he still...wait...what’s that?

Across the rooftop, close to where his original perch was, is a nest. It looks clumsy, like it might fall off into open space at any moment. It’s held together with a spattering of twigs and sticks, but there’s movement. Keigo lowers his arm, his wings lifting again, feeling. There’s one...no...there’s two chicks inside. They feel soft. Their heartbeats are fluttering, like a butterfly’s wing.  

He looks down at Kaori. She’s standing on the street corner, shielding her eyes from the sun as she peers up at him. Keigo lifts his hand so she can see, one finger raised, silently asking her for a little more time. Kaori groans, he can hear her exhale from here, and nods, lowering her gaze, one hand propped on her jutted hip.

“Be quick about it, Keigo.” 

He lets his wings bevel over his shoulders and he hops, carefully, slowly, across the tiles. As he gets closer, two pairs of yellow eyes peer at him, half hidden in the tangle of twigs. He grins and leans up, wanting to look a little…

The hawk, quick as lightning clatters in front of the nest, shielding her chicks from his curious observation. Her wings flare at his proximity, her beak open, sharp. She clicks a warning, her feathers spreading. Keigo mimics her display, his own wings fanning out and the hawk tilts her head, surprised. Her eyes blink, the dark orange shifting from agitated to quizzical. Slowly, her wings lower, draping along her back. Talons shift against the tiles and she chirps at him. It’s a different sound, less challenging. It's almost like a question.

Keigo lifts one of his hands, his fingers balled into a fist and gingerly extends his arm, his shoes sliding closer. She lifts her wings and glides a little nearer, her head still tilted in that exaggerated way. She chirps at him again and lowers her head. If he reaches out a little further he could stroke a finger down her feathers. Just a bit…

“Keigo!” 

The sound of his name startles him and the hawk. She yanks from his touch and launches herself back into the skies. Keigo watches her, fascinated by the ease, the grace that she moves with. As he’s admiring her fluidity, a single feather flutters to his feet. He almost misses it. The wind starts to catch it, pulling it away, but he snatches it up, his fingers careful to not crush the barbs. 

“Keigo, I’m not going to ask again...”

He uses his wings to help him down the side of the building. The verdant plumage is swelling, arching behind him. It feels different. Keigo lowers them against his back, mirroring the way the hawk had draped them, the feathers close to his skin. It helps. They don’t feel like something that he’s untethered from when he holds them like that. He’s still basking in his discovery when Kaori steps toward him, one brow arched.

“You know better than that, Keigo. Didn’t I ask you to not make me regret giving you a little more freedom? Come on, we’re overdue. What’s that in your hand?”

“Nothing,” Keigo replies, tucking the hawk’s feather into his jean pocket. She was so pretty, fierce and quick.

“You put any thought into any of the names on the lists? We were thinking your hero name should be-”

“Hawks,” Keigo replies, his wings stretching behind him, shimmering in the bright sunlight. “I wanna be called Hawks.”

Notes: bb Keigo is too cute, I couldn’t resist.

Izuku’s clumsy maneuvering was not enough to keep up with Hawks as he zipped in and out of the traffic below. Instead, he kept himself high above with blasts from his gauntlets and looked for the streak of red wings to catch his eye. He saw it between one gust and the next and cut his action short to let himself fall. Right before landing, he flicked the air one more time so he wouldn’t crack the cement. His heavy boots clunked, but no cracks appeared. Victory! His control in the air was getting better. Still nowhere near Hawks’s, of course, but maybe even just straggling behind him these past 3 weeks of the internship was enough to learn what he needed.

A red feather flew by, and Izuku startled. He’d spent just a second to celebrate his progress, and he’d lost sight of Hawks. Feathers flew up from where they’d been handcuffing a villain, autographing everything from receipts to skin, and making swirling shapes for a bus of children. Izuku leapt up and flung himself after them. He groaned in frustration as the school of feathers took a sharp turn and disappeared, leaving him to skid to a stop on top of a building and run from edge to edge, looking for the feathers in desperation.

In the end, he couldn’t find them, and plopped himself down on a propane tank. He’d get going in a second, but he’d already fallen far enough behind that a five minute break to catch his breath was really no big deal, so he pulled out phone and scrolled through his messages. Uraraka had sent him a selfie of her and her mentor, Axis, the Flip Hero. They were standing upside down on a hot air balloon hundreds of feet in the air. Uraraka’s hair fell at her shoulders instead of hanging toward the ground. Cool! He responded with a “looks fun!!!” and switched to his notes app to type in some quick thoughts about Axis’s quirk. He answered his mom’s texts before moving on to Todoroki’s. 

“What!?” he yelled when he saw the picture Todoroki had sent him. It was Hawks, talking with the police alongside Endeavor, mid-gesture with one hand in the air and the other pushing his visor onto his forehead.  The next message read “where are you??”

He immediately replied with “SEND ME YOUR LOCATION ASAP” and shot to his feet to start heading east, the general direction of Endeavor’s agency.

Izuku wondered if Tokoyami’s internship last year was like this. Surely not—right?—or Tokoyami would have warned him! His legs ached, his eyes were dry and itchy from the wind, and his throat and chest burned from sucking in more air than he was used to, even after three weeks of it. He was camping out at Hawks’s agency for the duration of the internship, and every morning when he stumbled, sore and bleary, into the kitchen to grab his yogurt, Hawks’s sidekicks would smile at him sympathetically. Had everyone known Hawks was like this except for Izuku? He’d thought Gran Torino went too fast for him, but Hawks was on a whole new level.

His first day at the agency had been a little slower, Hawks showing him around and asking him about himself, where he was from, did he like the dorms at UA, oh yeah it’s a good thing those teachers prioritized the safety of students, that dang league of villains, did he have any idea why Shigaraki had it out for him and Kacchan specifically? And what was his favorite flavor of yogurt so they could keep it stocked in the fridge? Then they left on patrol, and Izuku had been going full speed just trying to keep up ever since.

His phone pinged with the location and he adjusted his course, mumbling a mantra of please still be there please still be there under his breath. How did Hawks get so far so quickly? Izuku pushed himself harder, not wanting to be left behind the rest of the day if he got there and Hawks was already gone. 

When Izuku skidded in, short of breath and clumsy with fatigue, Todoroki greeted him with a blunt “Hello,” and Hawks greeted him with “Midoriya-kun! There you are!” and a laugh. 

Hawks ducked his head and leaned toward Todoroki, dramatically shielding his mouth with a hand, and said, in a whisper louder than Izuku’s normal speaking voice, “Hey, Todoroki-kun, did I break him? He’s got that blank look. Like a rebooting computer.”

“That’s just how he always looks,” responded Todorki with no reaction to Hawks’s joking except to slide his eyes over to the side.

“What! What do I look like?” 

“Adorable is what you look like!” Hawks said with a smile that softened the sharpness of his eyes and rounded his cheeks. “Come ‘ere! Smile!” he chimed as he held his phone out for a selfie. Izuku did, but was certain he looked anxious or shy. “You too, Endeavor-san, Todoroki-kun!”

Neither smiled or moved closer to be in the picture. “Aw, you’re no fun,” Hawks continued as he started to walk by them. At least he’s walking, Izuku thought as he scurried to catch up, and not flying or leaping or spinning. “Thanks anyway, you two. I’ll fax those right over when I get back to my agency. Or, well, tomorrow morning, actually. See ya!”

Oh no. Hawks was going to take off again. Izuku’s stomach jumped in dread, and then they were off. This time, Hawks went above the buildings instead of weaving between them, and that, at least, Izuku could keep up with. Up here, it didn’t matter if he went slightly too fast to control: there was nothing to crash into: no buildings, no pedestrians, and no pavement. Hawks, ahead of him, had his visor down over his eyes again and kept his body streamlined with an occasional flap of his wings. He rode the wind with casual grace, while Izuku jerked himself along with his air blasts. 

By the time Hawks lowered himself onto a roof, Izuku’s hair was no longer curly— they’d been going fast enough that the wind had blown the curls straight out. When he thunked down next to Hawks, it flopped into his eyes. He pushed it back up, his fingers pulling through tangles and the remains of little bugs.

“Good job, Deku!” Hawks told him with a pat on the back. “You’ve got the speed and power, now you just need some precision.”

Izuku already knew that, but couldn’t help smiling anyway. “Thanks! I’ve been working hard!”

“Yeah, you’re a good intern. The best, actually,” Hawks beamed at him. “You and Tokoyami.”

“I– Thanks!”

Hawks was still smiling as he told Izuku, “Okay. You wait here at my agency. I’ve got some things to do; I’ll see you when I get back tonight.”

“Wha-” Izuku looked around and realized that were indeed standing on top of Hawks’s agency office. “Oh.” His enthusiasm, which had been soaring only a moment ago, collapsed and started to drip down to the street below. “Okay!” he called after Hawks, who was already flying away. 

Izuku took the roof entrance, and the sidekicks and secretaries grinned at him as he trudged past.

“Deku!” called Lava, Hawks’s sidekick with the ability to attract and absorb flame. “I like the hairdo!”

Despite his low mood, Izuku grinned back at him. “It’s the latest style, you know!” He reached the door to his room, then had a thought and backtracked. “Oh, hey, do you have any projects here I can work on? Hawks, uh… ”

“Oh, sure thing! Here, come help me with this write-up.”

This is good, Izuku told himself as he crunched through the report, this is good. Yes, he needed to work on his “flying,” but this was good! He was learning the nitty gritty of hero agencies, the not-so-glamorous work behind the scenes. This was good.

The work was simple, plugging in numbers and words to a pre-existing template, so his mind wandered. He thought of his internship with Gran Torino and how much the veteran had taught him. He remembered Endeavor, who’d trained him and Kacchan because Todoroki made him. With Nighteye, he’d at least learned from Lemillion.

Why did Hawks request an internship if he wasn’t even going to <em>try</em> to mentor him? He was happy that his friends were excited about their internships and learning a lot, but he ached a little bit too. Deku, left behind again, it seemed. Don’t need to worry about him, he’s quirkless anyway, he’s not worth the effort.

Izuku stomped down on his spiraling thoughts. It’s not like that, he told himself. Hawks doesn’t think that, he’s just… busy. But, was that any better? Either way, he was missing his opportunity and falling further and further behind his classmates, and he couldn’t let All Might down like that. 

Izuku braced his shoulders with resolve. As soon as he saw Hawks, he would confront him. Nothing disrespectful, just standing his ground to be taken seriously or sent to intern somewhere else. Hawks couldn’t take issue with that because he’d done the same thing at the hero billboards.

Izuku completed the write-up with vigor and handed it to Lava with a request for a new task. He repeated that process several times, until Lava didn’t have anything for him except, “Ummm, lemme see… you could sweep? The broom’s in the kitchen closet.”

When he finished sweeping and returned to Lava, he was stopped before he could even open his mouth. “Nuh-uh! You’re finished. It’s dinnertime. Half the office has left already, you can go ahead and call it a day.”

“But, I, uh, I needed to talk to Hawks.”

Lava grabbed a post-it and wrote on it in barely legible loops. “No worries,” he said, standing up and strolling to the door to Hawks’s office. “He’ll see this when he gets back, and you’re staying here at the agency, so he can pop right over and talk to you. Now shoo!” 

Izuku dragged his feet down the stairs back to his room. He waited, but Hawks didn’t come. After a couple hours, he went back up to the office area, but it was locked and the lights were off. Eventually, he forced himself to accept that Hawks wasn’t going to come talk to him and went to bed.

In the morning, Hawks was sitting haphazardly on the backrest of a chair in the lounge, his wings behind him touching the floor. He jangled an empty energy drink can, then shot it into the small  waste bin like a basketball.

“Deku!” he called with a grin, jumping down. “You ready to head out?” Hawks coughed and pounded a fist on his chest. “Ugh, breathed in a lot of smoke last night.”

They left through the roof door as usual, but this time before Hawks could take off, Izuku stopped him. 

“I, uh, can we talk, real quick?”

Hawks relaxed from his takeoff stance, leaning back and putting his hands in his pockets. “Oh, yeah. I saw Lava’s note, but it was already super late when I got back and I figured you’d probably be asleep already. What’s up?” he asked with a tilt of his head.

“Ummm, well, uh, I. I know that you’re the hero who’s a bit too fast, that’s what they say, but, I keep getting left behind.” Now that he’d gotten started, Izuku remembered his resolve and forgot his awkward nervousness. “I came to this internship because I wanted to learn from you, but I’ve barely had the chance. I’m requesting either that you start to mentor me for real, or that you place me with another hero for the rest of the internship.” Izuku paused for a beat, then blushed. “Uh, sir,” he added with a hasty bow.

Hawks blinked, surprised. “C’mere,” he said, gesturing with his head toward the ledge. “Let’s have a seat.”

Hawks leaned back on his hands and dangled his legs over the side to kick his feet back and forth. As Izuku sat down next to him, Hawks turned away to cough into the collar of his jacket, which Izuku noticed was a little singed.

Apparently the leg-swinging was contagious, because Izuku couldn’t help but do it as well. Hawks looked into the clouds over the city, and Izuku looked at Hawks. He looked wistful, with a sad smile on his face, and Izuku’s heart sunk. He hadn’t realized that he preferred staying with Hawks as an intern until he saw the look on his face like he was going to say goodbye, and all of a sudden, Izuku was preparing himself for the sting of another adult not willing to put in the effort for an awkward, hopeless kid. He steeled himself. He’d move on from it with thicker skin, like he always did.

“Sorry about that,” Hawks said. “Sometimes I get so wrapped up in everything I forget that there are other important parts of being a hero.” He looked Izuku in the eyes. “Thanks for reminding me.” From so close, Izuku could see the bags under his eyes. How late had he gotten back last night, to assume that Izuku would be asleep? He remembered an analyst he’d listened to back in middle school who’d claimed that Hawks would burn out of the Top Ten within a year.

Izuku fidgeted. “Why do you…go so fast all the time?”

Hawks sighed and coughed again, but when his face turned back to Izuku, he was smiling. “Just, you know. Making a better world, for future heroes like you. Heroes should be able to relax, too. Who knows,” he said, staring back out at the sky, “by the time you graduate, maybe we won’t even need so many heroes, and you can kick back and take it easy as an analyst or something.”

“But I want to be a hero! Ever since I was little, it’s been my dream, to be like All Might.”

“Ah, I guess you and I are pretty similar, huh?” Hawks smiled and gave Izuku a playful punch to the arm. “For me, it was Endeavor.”

Izuku grit his teeth, his usual reaction any time Endeavor came up in conversation, but he was also surprised. Endeavor was from a later generation than All Might—Hawks was young enough for Endeavor to be his childhood hero? He’d known Hawks was the youngest in the Top Ten, but he hadn’t quite realized. “Oh,” was all he could say.

“So,” Hawks said, stretching his wings out behind him with a flutter. “That’s my reason. Work hard now, save others the pain. I guess I’ve been slacking on your training a bit because, in my mind, such promising kids like you and Tokoyami shouldn’t need to be heroes, if that makes sense. You should be able to do whatever you want, yeah? But since you want to be a hero, I’ll honor that. What do you want to learn?”

Izuku furrowed his eyebrows, trying to force his thoughts together. There was something here that wasn’t quite connecting. He tugged Hawks’s words through his mind, but they still didn’t click, and he glanced up and noticed Hawks looking at him with one eyebrow raised expectantly.

“Oh! I-” he stammered. “I’ve been wanting to work on my air speed and technique!”

“Perfect,” Hawks grinned. “You’ve come to the right place,” he said, heaving himself back up. He stretched his arms above his head and twisted from side to side and pulled his visor back down, and Izuku noticed that the bags under his eyes were invisible under the visor. 

Tiredness like the kind Hawks was hiding didn’t come from a single late night. People often called Hawks lazy because he talked about wanting a day off and wanting heroes to be able to take it easy. Was that really lazy, though? Or was he just tired? It clicked in Izuku’s head, then. Hawks worked as hard and went as fast as he did so that no one else would have to do what he did.

“Um, Hawks? Do you- do you not want to be a hero?” Izuku asked, scrambling to his feet.

 Hawks lifted himself off the ground with a flap of his wings.

“‘Course I do,” he said solemnly. “Who doesn’t? 

He turned away toward the city, leaving his back toward Izuku. “Here,” he said over his shoulder.“The first step is your angle. I think your problem is that you always fling yourself at a square angle, either straight up or straight forward. Let’s head off, and you try matching my angle this time.”

Overcoming his habit of just going straight up, Izuku took off after Hawks at the same angle.

With one hand, he gave Izuku a bright thumbs up. With the other, he held up his collar and coughed into it.

“Onward we go,” he said with a huff that was either a laugh or a sigh, Izuku wasn’t sure which.

Well.

Fuck.

Keigo pulled his wings tighter around himself and tried to count to ten under his breath. He got to seven before there was a knock on the door.

 “Kid?”

Ah, shit. They knew where he was.

Of course he was already going to have to answer for running out and messing up the schedule the way he had, and he didn’t even know how long he’d been here, but he still didn’t want to be talked to.

 “Go ‘way!” he called back, and his voice sounded way too shaky and not enough like his hero persona at all. “I’m fine! I just need a minute!”

 A pause. “… Hawks.” The voice was softer now. He knew he’d heard it before, but his panicked mind wasn’t supplying him with anything. “Can I come in if I close the door behind me?”

 Keigo furrowed his brows. Why would she do that? Wasn’t she here to drag him back out? But saying no would probably make them break down the door or something. He twisted the feather he’d kept stuck in the lock around until he felt it click open.

 He straightened up where he was sitting in between a bunch of nondescript storage crates and cleaning supplies, his wings folded neatly against his back even though he just wanted to curl them around his body again.

 The door opened a moment later, and Keigo could have slapped himself for not recognizing Midnight’s voice when she’d been outside the door.

She must have had a photoshoot here today, too. He vaguely remembered that this was supposed to be the place where she most often did her modelling work. She was in her hero costume, though lacking her usual accessories, and she was holding the shirt that he’d left when he’d hurried out of the studio.

 He caught it when she tossed it at him and freed his wings of feathers for a moment so he could pull it on, slotting them back in place after.

“… thanks.” He flashed Midnight one of his trademark smiles, and from her furrowed brow she wasn’t buying it in the least.

 Keigo wondered just how much of a persona she was putting on for her hero work, and how much of it was real. There was no way all this 18+ nonsense could be her entire personality.

 Keigo thought she was fun to watch, sure, and definitely capable, but she’d always seemed very… fake to him. There were just some heroes who were so obviously playing a role, and unfortunately a lot of the female pros who were being pushed into the ‘sexy lady hero’ stereotype came across like that. Keigo was always glad he was a man, or this might have very well been his fate.

And he’d proven today that he was not cut out for that.

 Midnight kicked one of the crates aside and sat down on top of it, one leg over the other, and watching him closely.

“First model shoot?” she asked, “They can be a little awkward.”

 Keigo sighed and dropped his smile, shrugging a shoulder. “It’s not… I’m good at what I do.” That sounded very defensive. But he was! He was good at this! He had no problem with the posing, even though he hadn’t exactly practiced that before. It had actually been a lot of fun, in the beginning.

 “I didn’t say you weren’t,” Midnight pointed out, “Just that it can be awkward. I’ve been doing this since I was your age, and don’t tell anyone, but that was a while ago.” She winked at him and Keigo huffed a laugh. “But, even for me it can get… a bit much at times.”

 Keigo looked back at her with more intent this time, studying her face. Did she enjoy what she did? Well, she had picked her own brand, and she got more choice in what she did than he ever had, but she’d also picked that brand as a teenager. Playing into the R-rated hero thing got her a lot of fans, of course, and modelling contracts, and adult merch, and a ton of other things, so it had been a clever move for her career. But to constantly be seen like this? Keigo nearly shuddered at the thought.

 Midnight met his eyes and smiled, a little more gentle, and Keigo remembered that she, in fact, was also a high school teacher. “Don’t look at me like that, bird boy. I love what I do. It’s normal to get overwhelmed. Happens to the best of us. Just last week, I witnessed Present Mic screaming into a pillow for almost ten whole minutes.”

 Keigo pulled one of his wings across his lap and smoothed out some feathers. They’d been groomed extensively before the shoot, but he’d gone and gotten them all ruffled up again. “… is the pillow okay?” he asked after a moment.

 Midnight snorted. “That’s what we keep Eraser around for.”

 Would Keigo ever have any real friends among other heroes? He sure hoped so. He had never really had the opportunity to make friends.

 He looked down at his wing. “… I don’t like being on camera shirtless.” And in a room full of people, too. He pulled up his shoulders a little. “I mean. I know I’m objectively hot, right? This is all… very marketable.” He gestured down at his body, and then at his face.

 He'd been lucky to grow up attractive, he’d been told that many times. And yet.

“It doesn’t make sense. I just… they didn’t warn me beforehand, and so when they told me to, I just took it off and I started feeling worse.”

Letting go of his wing, he instead traced his fingers along his chest, where there weren’t even visible scars. “It’s stupid.”

 “The way you feel about your body is never stupid,” Midnight said, voice surprisingly firm.

Keigo jerked his eyes up to look at her.

“It’s unreasonable. I should be fine with it. Plenty of people are gonna look at these photos, and they’re not gonna think ‘oh, look at Hawks, he’s way too skinny to be attractive’ or ‘he’s tiny, how’s he supposed to save people’ or ‘hey, doesn’t Hawks look kinda like a girl?’. That’s just me thinking that.” He waved a hand in the air vaguely and sighed, feathers fluffing up as he did so.

 Midnight was still watching him. Keigo hated it. She seemed to be seeing right through him, and he himself didn’t even know what she was seeing.

“I have a feeling it won’t help any if I say I think you’re cute,” she finally said, “Because this is about you. This isn’t going to change, no matter how many crazy fans in the streets scream that they’d love to have your babies.” She paused. “Or… eggs.”

 Keigo couldn’t help the surprised laugh, and he tried to give her a half-glare. “I’m pretty sure I’d have perfectly human babies, thanks.”

 “I’ll believe that when you prove it,” Midnight teased, and Keigo realized she’d done that very much on purpose to distract him from his doom and gloom.

 She was a pretty good hero, he decided. The best heroes had to be the ones who knew how to help other heroes, and not just civilians. “I should probably get back out there and finish the shoot, huh?” he asked, glancing at the door.

 Midnight clicked her tongue. “Or you walk out there, apologize, and fly home like a good boy.” She met his eyes and winked, and Keigo blushed maybe a little bit, though he would deny that to his dying day. That was just how she was though, and her flirty nature was enough to keep him somewhat grounded and from letting his thoughts spiral again.

 “… I have responsibilities,” he protested half-heartedly, though home sounded very good right now. He hadn’t been living in the apartment long, but it was his and it was safe. He didn’t have to be Hawks there.

 Midnight waved a hand at him. “They must’ve gotten a bunch of pictures they can use. You’ve been here all morning, and it’s almost four now.”

 That late? Oh, shit. Keigo had a patrol at six. He’d need to pick up some food on the way. But, hey, at least patrol was going to make him feel less shitty about himself. He stood up and brushed himself off. “You’re probably right, Midnight. Thanks.”

 Midnight got to her feet as well, and Keigo nudged her arm with his wing.

“Kayama is fine, you know? No need to be all formal with the hero names.”

 Keigo never liked when this happened. He shifted. “I prefer Hawks.”

 Midnight’s gaze was too knowing, but he didn’t think that she knew the full extent of why he didn’t use his other name.

“Hawks it is, then. It’s a good hero name anyway. Very catchy.” She nodded her approval, and he smiled as he moved past her – only to be stopped by her hand wrapping around his wrist.

 “Okay, I know you barely know me, but I want you to listen to me. Because you’re just a kid, and you’re taking your first steps into this mess of a professional world. Are you listening?”

 Keigo nodded.

 Midnight’s gaze was serious. “No one can tell you who to be, Hawks. No one can tell you what to do with who you are, either. You want to save people, you’re good at that. You clearly don’t like this aspect of it all, and that’s fine. Not everyone is born for this. Being a hero isn’t about looking sexy, or letting them treat you like a piece of meat. It’s about finding danger and facing it to keep others from getting hurt. And you’re doing that. So you can damn well decline any of these publicity engagements that have you doing things you’re uncomfortable with. They’ll tell you to just go through with it, and not make a fuss, but they’re wrong, okay? Set up your boundaries now, because you’re allowed to. Do you hear me? You’re allowed to.”

 Keigo nodded again, a little dazed from her intensity. Or maybe her quirk. But she wasn’t using it right now.

 Midnight let go of his wrist, and placed both hands on his shoulders. “I look forward to seeing more of what you can do. Up in the sky, not on some advertisement for a product neither of us is ever even going to use.” She raised a hand and put a finger under his chin, forcing his head up a little. “Now, don’t look like a scared little bird that’s just been a cat’s plaything for the past ten minutes. Or else there’ll be rumors about the two of us and this closet.” She laughed, and Keigo swallowed.

 “Uh… yeah. Okay. Okay.” He was very off kilter now. Did she have that effect on everyone?

 Midnight looked him over, and then gave a satisfied nod. “Good. Now, remember that you’re an ass kicking, whip smart, devastatingly handsome young man, and get out there.”

 Keigo blinked at her, stood still for another second or so, and then turned and opened the door, his shoulders set, and the weight of his wings still heavy on his back.