#mirhawks

Rumi cackled deviously as she carried a red-and-white paper bucket down the sidewalk. Inside, several crispy-fried drumsticks and thighs jostled about with every springy step. Any passerby would assume that the rabbit hero had stopped after a long day’s work to buy some hard-earned fried chicken from the nearby fast-food chain. However, they would be wrong, at least partially. Though they looked very much like fried chicken, what filled the top layer of the bucket were actually pieces of tofu that had been meticulously crafted to look like chicken. 

“Hehehe... This ought to show him,” Rumi cackled deviously under her breath. “That birdbrain will think twice before ever messing with my carrots again!” 

Though Keigo had made good on his promise to deliver carrot cake, Rumi was still pissed. It had been a week now, but the cruel prank still haunted her; every time she went to eat a carrot, she had to check and make sure that it actually wasn’t Play-Doh in disguise. An annoyance at best, but the sanctity of Rumi’s favorite snack was forever poisoned by his ill-contrived little joke. 

Quite simply, Rumi could not rest until she had gotten proper payback. 

Rumi turned the corner, and there was Hawks’ agency. She made sure that the last of her evil cackles had left her system before purposefully strutting through the striding glass doors. She wouldn’t want to spoil her little surprise by laughing. 

A few of the sidekicks gave Rumi a passing glance, then shrugged. Given how close she and Keigo were, her presence was not unusual in the agency—just as his was not unusual in hers. Thus, when she strode up to the receptionist’s desk, she was greeted with a jovial smile. 

“Mirko! Lovely to see you,” the receptionist chirped, and then her eyes dropped to the paper bucket in her muscular arms. “Oh! Hawks will be so pleased! He’s been working extra hard today.” 

“Perfect,” Rumi purred devilishly, but the receptionist seemed not to notice her dark tone of relish. 

“Go on ahead; I’ll buzz you up.” 

Rumi did as bid, and one elevator ride later, she was stepping out into Keigo’s office on the top floor. The winged hero was currently splayed out in his desk chair, snoring loudly with his mouth agape and drooling. As soon as Rumi stepped off the elevator, though, he could smell the aroma of grease and fried batter wafting in the air. His wings twitched, and he jerked awake with an ungainly “Snnrrkkkk!” 

“Rumi?” he asked when he lifted his head unsteadily to look at her with bleary eyes. He squinted, then continued groggily, “Izzat chicken?” 

“Sure is,” Rumi grinned, carrying the bucket over to his desk. “I got off of patrol early today and thought I would bring you a little gift.” 

Keigo warbled in delight, and the desk chair squeaked as he hastily righted himself. He’d snapped awake in an instant, his eyes bright and eager as they beheld the glorious bucket in Rumi’s arms. No sooner than she had set it in front of him, he dove in, snatching up a drumstick and tearing into it. 

“Thanks Rumi, you’re the be—” 

He stopped short, his expression of delight slowly morphing into confusion. He pulled the piece away from his mouth and looked at it. As soon as he saw the white, spongy tofu peeking out from where he’d bitten, he gasped in horror and slapped a hand to his mouth. 

“Rumi! How could you?!” he cried behind his hand, eyes owlish and full of betrayal. 

“Ha!” Rumi laughed and pointed at him. “That’s what you get for messing with my carrots, you feathered bastard! How’s it feel?!” 

“... Not good. Not good at all,” Keigo crooned sadly, his shoulders slumping and feathers drooping. Tears brimmed in his eyes, and he looked pitifully at the chicken-shaped tofu. “I have been delivered a taste of my own medicine, and it is bitter indeed...” 

“Chill, Socrates, there’s regular chicken under the top few pieces.” 

“Oh, thank God!” Keigo cried while tossing the piece of tofu across the room. It landed against the wall with a squishy slap. He jammed his hand into the bucket. He pulled out another drumstick, sniffed it experimentally, and then took a tentative bite. He melted as the taste of chicken rather than tofu flooded over his tongue. “Oh, yeah... That’s the stuff...” 

“So?” Rumi huffed, crossing her arms. “What have we learned?” 

“Don’t mess with your carrots...” Keigo answered sullenly, the chicken still in his mouth. “Ever.”

“Eeeeeeexactly. Now we’re even, okay?” she smiled and reached out to ruffle his wavy golden hair. 

“At least until I prank you again,” Keigo grinned mischievously. When Rumi raised a threatening eyebrow, he hurriedly clarified, “But the carrots are off-limits! Promise!” 

“They’d better be, or next time, the whole bucket will be tofu.” 

Part I

Keigo’s leg spasmodically jumped up and down at insane speeds, making the plush loveseat he was seated in vibrate against the ornate rug placed beneath its stubby wooden legs. His heart thrummed in his chest, his heartbeat hammering his bones so hard he could hear it pounding in his eardrums. He hunched forward such that his elbows planted into his knees, pressing down with enough force to bruise his patellas—not that he took notice of the dull pain slowly blooming in his skin. His hands laced over his lips, and above his trembling fingers, his golden irises swam in the seas of white that were his owlishly wide eyes. 

His gaze fixated on the door opposite him, where the dental assistant would be calling him back any moment now. Every hero had their Achilles heel— but damn it, why did Keigo’s have to be the damn dentist? What was he, a ten-year-old? Actually, the ten-year-old playing on his smartphone in the corner had much more composure than Keigo, so he retracted that.

Keigo nearly jumped out of his skin when a hand slapped his shoulder. 

“How are you holding up, bud?” 

Keigo snarled at the very obvious amusement lacing Rumi’s tone as she sneered in his ear. He should have known that asking Rumi to accompany him to the dentist was an idiotic idea. Rumi didn’t have a comforting bone in her body; so far, she’d just been barely suppressing her intense enjoyment of his suffering, sometimes betraying herself with snide comments. Still, Rumi was about the only person he trusted with his irrational fear. She might be being an ass about it, but at least she was an ass that could keep her mouth shut. He could only imagine the field day that the paparazzi would have if they got ahold of this juicy tidbit. 

If Keigo could have avoided it, he totally wouldn’t be here. However, he couldn’t deny that it had been inevitable. During an altercation with a villain several weeks earlier, he’d been smacked in the face with a brick, shattering one of his molars and cracking it right in two. Of course, to avoid going to the dentist, he ignored the problem—until the infection set in. No amount of oral gels and leftover antibiotics could prevent the fact that his tooth would rot out of his head. So, after several days of agonizing pain, night sweats, and nearly fainting at a briefing, Keigo had resigned himself to the terrifying fact that he needed his tooth removed. 

And so, here he was, shaking like a leaf in a dentist’s office. 

His gaze slipped sideways as hushed whispers reached his ears, and intense stares prickled his skin. This was an establishment that catered only to heroes and their families, but most of the patients today seemed to be low-level heroes and sidekicks. Several of them were gawking unabashedly at Keigo—and gossiping. 

“Is that Hawks?” 

“No, it can’t be. There are plenty of winged heroes out there—and besides, would the number-two hero be quivering like a baby over a visit to the dentist?” 

The blatant insult made Keigo’s feathers ruffle in shame and embarrassment. Though he tried to stop them, tears pricked at the corners of his avian eyes. How mortifying, he thought, nausea swirling in his belly as the humiliation set in like poison. Every muscle in his body was drawn taut, like a frayed rope whose last fiber was ready to snap. 

Rumi whacked him in the side of the face with a magazine. 

“Look, look!” she grinned while pointing at a page. “It’s me! Don’t I look hot?”

Keigo looked disinterestedly at the implicated article, where Rumi was posing powerfully with a couple of massive barbells. The pages of the magazine flapped back and forth as she wiggled the magazine in delight.

“Man, I’m almost tempted to steal it. I have a copy of the article, of course, but I look good enough that I should carry a copy around in my wallet!” she cackled and thumped the soles of her feet against the ground, the slaps muffled by the thick rug. 

“Yep. You’re a hottie,” Keigo droned flatly. He was back to liquifying the door with his frantic gaze. If he could manifest laser vision and destroy it, then he would never even have to see the dentist. 

He tensed further as more hushed whispers floated into his ears. 

“Maybe I should just cancel the appointment,” he posed to Rumi, his voice cracking as he neared a mental break. “Yeah! They’re busy today. I can come back another time. Let’s go—” 

As he went to stand up, Rumi grabbed him by the bicep and yanked him back down with so much force that the chair jerked back, a loud screech piercing the quiet waiting room air as it lurched off the rug and scratched the tile. The whispers were immediately silenced as the other patients gaped at Keigo in shock. The winged man made no second attempt to rise because he knew that testing Rumi would not end well for him. 

“You’re getting that tooth out, birdbrain,” the rabbit-eared woman quipped as she filled out a “Which hero are you? ” quiz in the magazine with lidded eyes. After a few seconds, she snorted, “How the fuck did I get Gang Orca?”

Keigo did not answer because he had resumed vibrating at the speed of sound, trying to phase into the chair and through the floor. 

The door finally opened, and Keigo’s stomach dropped to his feet. The dental assistant sweetly called his hero name, but Keigo refused to get up, adhering himself to the chair. It wasn’t like he could escape because his stupid obvious crimson wings gave him away—he simply couldn’t get his legs to move. 

The sofa beside him creaked as Rumi lazily rose and discarded the magazine. She stretched her arms and legs for a second before grabbing Keigo by the back of his shirt and hoisting him up. 

“Come on, birdbrain. Time to go.” 

Though his brain so sorely wished to rebel, his legs obeyed the willful woman’s wishes, carrying him over to the petite dental assistant. His feathers were puffed out with anxiety, shaking along with his jittery body. The dental assistant didn’t miss a beat to her credit, smoothly directing him to the back room where he would see the dentist. Everything she said went one ear and out the other, as he was staring at the specialized furniture like it was an electric chair. 

“Mr. Hawks, sir? I’m going to need you to lay down, please.” 

Keigo twitched violently as the dental hygienist tapped him on the shoulder to yank him out of his stupor. With a nervous laugh, he nodded and approached the chair. He stiffly settled into the plastic-covered surface, wings awkwardly sticking out at odd angles. He tried his best to tuck their massive bulk against the sides to provide the medical professionals enough access to move. Though he wanted to make it cumbersome, he knew Rumi would start ripping out feathers if he acted out. 

When the dental hygienist left to get the dentist, Rumi flashed him a cheesy grin. 

“You okay, stud?” 

“Never better.” The high-pitched keen cracking his tone betrayed him. Rumi chuckled and shook her head. 

“I gotta say, I never imagined that this would be the thing to take down big, bad Hawks. The little birdie scared of the dentist,” she chortled in disbelief.

Keigo just pouted at her, too high-strung to muster up a snide reply. His heart felt like it was doing its best to explode out of his ribcage.

When Keigo didn’t answer, she narrowed her white eyebrows. 

“Hey. It’ll be okay.” 

Before Keigo could respond, the dentist walked in. 

“All right, let’s take a look at that tooth,” the dentist smiled pleasantly, sitting down on the rolling stool as the assistant wheeled in a metal tray. 

Keigo made the grave mistake of glancing at it. 

“Oh, no, no, no, no, no, no, no,” he repeatedly moaned, wings flapping anxiously as he tried to climb out of the dental chair and fly out through the nearby window.

Rumi jumped up to grab him by the shoulders and coax him back down, soothing him with gentle shushes. 

“Hey, hey, just relax. Don’t look at that stuff; look at me, okay?” Rumi crooned as she braced herself over him.

Keigo's golden irises were just specks of gold in a white plain with blood-red rivers. She held the side of his head with one strong hand, keeping him from impulsively looking at the metal instruments he could hear rattling against the tray.

“Hey. Birdbrain. Eyes on me.” 

As his brain dissolved into mush, Keigo concentrated on the only safe thing in the room—Rumi. 

“That’s it,” she cooed as he fixed his terrified gaze on her face. He remarked at how soft her features became as she smiled kindly in the back of his frazzled mind. “There you go. I’m right here, birdbrain.” 

Keigo blubbered something nonsensical, ragged breaths wracking his body as he began to hyperventilate with fear. All he could think about was knowing that the dentist was loading a syringe of anesthetic next to him. As he heard the rolling chair squeak and felt the dentist’s legs bump his quivering wings, Keigo released a high-pitched whine and pushed himself away, pressing into the arm of the chair so hard it indented his arm and leg. 

“Hey, hey, hey, hey,” Rumi scolded gently as she turned his head back so that the dentist could have access. He still stubbornly kept his mouth clamped shut. He looked pitifully at her, begging for respite, and she cocked her head expectantly. “Keigo, you need to open your mouth.” 

“Dun wanna,” he refused through tightly pressed lips. 

“I know you don’t, but the dentist needs to do his job. You want this to be over with, don’t you? Let him numb your mouth.” 

Keigo whimpered but obediently teased his lips and teeth apart. He kept his eyes on Rumi the entire time, trying to ignore the hazy form of the dentist in his peripheral vision. He winced as the needle plunged into the inflamed gums near his tooth, and an agonized groan bubbled up in his throat. Rumi leaned down to press the bulk of her forearm down on his chest so he wouldn’t jerk and risk breaking off the needle in his mouth, so he channeled his nervous energy by writhing his legs against the chair. 

“That’s it. You’re doing good,” Rumi purred encouragingly. His jellified mind relished the praise, using it as motivation to continue to lie still as the dentist pumped the numbing medicine into his burning gums. “That’s right. Just relax.” 

Keigo found himself slowly relaxing his muscles and melting down into the dentist’s chair at Rumi’s patient and gentle reassurance. His fluffed-out wings jerkily smoothed down, though the crimson feathers still trembled. He blinked a few times, pushing out the tears in the corners of his eyes and sending them rolling down his cheeks. Rumi tutted and thumbed his tears away. He couldn’t even process how crazily weird it was seeing the ordinarily brash and uncouth Rumi so gentle and caring with how frantically his neurons were firing. The one single brain cell that could recognize the situation flooded him with intense gratitude. 

He tried to talk as the dentist was putting the pliers into his mouth. 

“Ugh… Wumi…”

“Shh. Just relax,” Rumi repeated and combed her fingers through his wavy blonde locks. “Didn’t you get taught not to talk with your mouth full?” she teased.

Hawks snorted a little in laughter, glad to see a bit of the normal Rumi shining through. 

Though still incredibly tense, Keigo tolerated the remainder of the procedure well thanks to Rumi’s continuous encouragement. When the dentist ripped the rotted tooth free of his gums, Rumi insisted that they look at it, and she cackled at the gross black film of bacteria that had destroyed the enamel. When the dentist packed his mouth with gauze to staunch the bleeding, she joked that he was becoming a rabbit like her and pinched his numb and rounded cheek. Keigo elbowed her away as he sat himself up in the chair, pawing at the skin of his face and marveling how he couldn’t feel a thing. 

When they stepped out of the dentist’s office after finalizing payment, Keigo slumped against the wall, thoroughly exhausted from the ordeal. His eyes drooped with fatigue, and his muscles were screaming at him for terrorizing them so thoroughly. As he planked against the wall, he peered out of his peripheral vision at Rumi, who stared blankly at him. 

“Go ahead. I know you want to tease me,” Keigo sighed. He braced himself for the outrageous cackles and slurry of insults.

Instead, Rumi just exhaled. 

“I’m not going to make fun of you,” she said with a click of her tongue. She crossed her arms and jutted her hip, her fluffy ears swiveling. “You trusted me enough to ask me to come with you. I’m not going to sully that by preying on your insecurity.” 

Perhaps he was still emotional, but Keigo’s eyes watered as sentiment surged up in his body. Bottom lip wobbling like a child, he turned and made grabby hands at Rumi in a silent demand for a hug. Rumi snorted and rolled her eyes but walked forward to embrace him with an amused smile. She squeezed him with a small grunt, and Keigo buried his face into her long streams of silver-white hair. 

“You smell like carrots.” 

“You smell like nervous sweat. Get off,” Rumi huffed, but instead of pushing him away, she just gently retreated until her hands were resting on his shoulders. Keigo smiled apologetically, a bit of gauze poking out of the edge of his mouth. With a wide grin, she patted his shoulder. “Hey, you wanna go to the bubble tea place you like? My treat.” 

Keigo’s wings splayed out behind him in excitement. 

“Can we get fried chicken dumplings, too?!” 

“Yes, we can get fried dumplings. Come on, birdbrain. Times-a-wastin’.” 

Rumi set a brisk pace down the sidewalk, leaving Keigo to trot after her. His harrowing order fled his mind surprisingly past, chased away by the stream of pleasant babble tumbling from Rumi’s animated face. 

As a hero and in daily life, Keigo had many challenges to face—some more daunting than others. At first, he fancied himself a loner. However, as time went on, he found himself growing more grateful every day that he had good friends to share the hard times with. 

He wished less of that was potential blackmail material, though. As nice as Rumi was pretending to be right now, he just knew that somewhere down the line, she’d been weaseling some carrot cake and free dinners out of him soon… Which was unnecessary because all she had to do was ask, and he’d come flying. 

Part II

Keigo’s eyes were as wide as moons and glued to the television, which displayed a video of him whimpering and thrashing on the dentist’s table in all his pathetic glory. The video was obviously filmed from a cell phone, as it was grainy and shaky. The perpetrator had enough decency to blur out the faces of the dentist and technicians, but poor Keigo and Rumi were not afforded that kindness. Keigo’s wings flapped angrily behind him as he watched his moment of weakness aired on national news for all to see, fluttering the pages of the magazines resting on the coffee table he was sitting on. 

This was not good. This was not good!

It didn’t take long for his public relations agent to call him. He paced relentlessly around the apartment with his phone crammed against his ear, wings a-fluttering. The video had gone viral seemingly overnight, meaning that one of the dentist’s employees had illegally filmed him. Keigo’s agent assured him that the perpetrator would be facing full legal repercussions for breaking the clearly-established anonymity clause, but unfortunately, they could not turn back time. However, though the media was having a field day tearing into him, his agent was relieved to report that it had apparently boosted his popularity on the civilian level. Keigo didn’t share her enthusiasm. A majority of his fans were young females. As much as he liked to cater to his fans, he didn’t really like the idea of teenage girls crooning about how cute and vulnerable he was. 

You win some, you lose some. Such was the court of public opinion. He knew that. That didn’t mean he had to like it, though. 

Keigo flopped down onto the couch with a heavy sigh, shoulders and wings drooping. He rewound the footage over and over again, just watching how utterly pathetic he looked. He was squirming on the table, tears glistening in his eyes while Rumi held his hand and patted his hair. What kind of hero was he, freaking out at the dentist like that? That was not the image he wanted to portray. 

He sunk into the couch with a big pout. He felt like crying, honestly, but that would just make him feel worse. 

Keigo’s phone began to buzz in his pocket again. After so many calls with his agents, the Commission, other heroes—he honestly didn’t want to answer. But, it could be completely unrelated to the leaked video, so he ought to at least just check who was calling. He pulled his phone out to see his phone screen filled with bulging muscles, bunny ears, and a toothy grin. 

Rumi, he recognized with a smile. He slid the answer button and put it on speaker, reclining back into the couch.  

“You’ve reached the biggest laughingstock in all Japan. How may I help you?” 

“I was gonna ask if you saw the news, but that answers my question,” came the amused response. After a moment of silence, she asked in a softer tone, “Are you okay, birdbrain?” 

“Just peachy,” he quipped, but he couldn’t keep the bitterness from seeping into his tone. “It’s just a regular Saturday afternoon. Drinking some coffee and watching my mental breakdown be broadcast to the world. You know how it is.” 

“Oh, well, it’s good that you’re not busy, ‘cuz—” As she cut herself off, Keigo’s penthouse apartment resounded with the sound of knuckles rapping against his door. Rumi didn’t even give him time to stand up from the couch before huffing, “Knock-knock, birdbrain. Special delivery for Japan’s biggest laughingstock.” 

“The biggest laughingstock hopes you brought chicken,” Keigo chuckled as he got up to do as bid. He hung up the phone as he opened the door, revealing a sweatsuit-clad Rumi with a bucket of Kentucky Fried Chicken in her hands and an indignant pout on her face. 

“Who do you think I am?” she huffed, walking in as Keigo stepped aside to let her pass. As he swung the door shut, his head turned to follow her, his eyes fluttering at the scent of golden-delicious deep-fried chicken that wafted up his nose. He didn’t even bother to lock it; he needed to dive into that bucket, now.

“You think I would show up here without the necessary goods? I’m not a birdbrain like you,” she said. When he turned around, she offered the bucket of chicken to him. 

“Am I a birdbrain or Japan’s biggest laughingstock? One nickname at a time, please,” Keigo grinned wryly as he took the large container from her. He wasted no time in snatching up a drumstick and taking a huge bite out of it. His mouth rejoiced at the savory white meat, hot juice, and crispy fried batter, and he fluttered his wings giddily while letting out a muffled warble of delight. 

“I guess I’ll stick with ‘birdbrain,’ since I’m not really laughing at this shit,” Rumi huffed while casting a disparaging glare at the television. She grabbed the remote to flip through the series of news channels; all of them had the video plastered on the greenscreen and were commentating away. Keigo had muted it and turned off close captions some time ago, for his own sanity. 

“Look at them,” Rumi snorted, stopping to focus her ire on an unlucky set of news anchors. “Like a pack of vultures tearing into a carcass. Don’t pay any attention to them,” she said and jammed the power button on the remote. The television flicked off, and its sleek black screen now displayed the reflection of Keigo sadly munching on his chicken. 

“It’s not the ridicule that bothers me,” he lamented, and Rumi turned to look at him with a raised eyebrow. “I can handle the press. It’s the public. My agent said that the video actually went over well with my fans.” 

“Well?” 

“Exceptionally so. Yanno, my fanbase is primarily teenage girls.” 

“Yes, yes, your rugged good looks and boyish charm; we’ve been through this,” Rumi huffed while rolling her eyes and dismissively waving her hand. “What’s that got to do with it?” 

“Well, apparently, there’s nothing that teenage girls love more than vulnerability,” Keigo explained despondently, his wings drooping. “They’re loving it.” Sighing, he walked back over to the sofa and plopped down. After morosely demolishing another drumstick, he mumbled through his full mouth, “‘M a hero. ‘M supposed to be strong. Not babied.” 

“Hey. Not everyone can be strong twenty-four-seven. Not even heroes,” Rumi frowned. She crossed the room to join him on the sofa; as she plopped down, the other end of the couch cushion lurched up, making Keigo bounce a little. He was still staring miserably at the television, so Rumi poked him in the side of the head until he turned to pout at her instead. “I’m serious.” 

“That’s kind of hard to believe coming from a woman whose entire image is muscles,” Keigo sniffed sullenly. 

“All right, I’ll tell you a secret.” 

“A secret?” Keigo asked, his eyes widening slightly. 

“Yup,” Rumi nodded. “A secret I’ve never told anybody in the hero business.” She paused to suck in a deep breath, then reluctantly revealed, “I have an ‘irrational’ fear, too. I’m afraid of balloons.” 

“Ba… Balloons?” Keigo sputtered in disbelief. Of all the innocuous ‘irrational’ fear one could have, that wasn’t one he saw coming. 

“Sure am,” Rumi smirked. She seemed relieved by getting it off her chest; her nervousness dissolved, replaced by a quiet calmness. With a content exhale, she propped her feet up on Keigo’s coffee table and rested her hands behind her head. She smiled wistfully while gazing at the empty television screen. “When I was a brat, this little jerk of a kid took advantage of my heightened hearing and popped a balloon in my ear. Ever since, I’ve been afraid of loud, sudden noises—thunderstorms, fireworks, gunshots, all that stuff. But balloons are still the worst. Just seeing one gets me nervous as hell.” 

“Wait… Is that why you made that hasty exit from the last hero gala we went to? ‘Cuz they did the balloon drop on us?” Keigo asked as a hazy memory surfaced. The media had buzzed for several days over why Mirko had high-tailed it out of a ritzy billionaire’s gratitude ball for heroes pretty much as soon as it had begun; they’d had a time of postulating, but no one had ever confirmed anything concrete. Rumi had bounded away so fast that by the time Keigo realized she was gone, he couldn’t find hide nor hair of her. The media never received this information, but he’d actually found her fast asleep in one of the many coat closets while he was looking for a bathroom. 

“Bingo,” Rumi confirmed with an emphatic snap of her fingers. “As soon as I saw those damn things falling from the ceiling, I panicked. Ran to the closest room and shut myself in. I was so scared by the idea of having to walk through that minefield that I ended up passing out in there.” 

“Well, that explains a lot of lingering questions,” Keigo chuckled. “I thought you might have gotten drunk, but your alcohol tolerance is unreal, and the party had just started. You hadn’t even finished one glass of champagne before that stunt was pulled.” 

“And it wasn’t the first time something like that’s happened. Back when I was a sidekick, my agency threw a surprise birthday party for me. Before I could get outta there, someone stepped on a balloon and popped it. I broke down and cried right there, and it took them half an hour to calm me down.” She turned back to Keigo to give him a soft smile. “So, don’t feel bad about what happened at the dentist, okay? I promise, your little fit is nothing compared to that little office party fiasco.” 

“Yours didn’t end up plastered all over the news, though.” 

“Oh?” Rumi said, pulling out her cellphone as it vibrated in her pocket. She grinned, then grabbed the remote and turned the television back on. “I beg to differ, birdbrain.” 

Keigo looked owlishly at it just in time for “BREAKING NEWS!” to flash across the bottom of the screen. Rumi flipped on the volume. 

“This just in! In a sudden but well-orchestrated campaign to support pro hero Hawks in his so-called ‘moment of disgrace,’ social media is being inundated with videos of sidekicks and heroes grappling with their phobias,” the anchor reported animatedly. “The civilians have also taken up the movement, known as #FacingMyFears. Over three thousand videos have been posted, with more flooding in every minute.” 

“The initiator of this massive outcry is none other than pro hero Mirko, who is seen dutifully supporting her friend Hawks in the leaked video,” the other anchor continued. “In a scathing post criticizing the media’s tendency to ‘shame heroes for experiencing things that are only human,’ she publicly reveals her own quote ‘irrational fear’ and even included a video from her sidekick days. Let’s take a look.” 

The anchors turned to the screen behind them, which suddenly blazed to life with a clearly dated video. Rumi—barely out of her teens—stood stock-still and wide-eyed in the middle of a surprise party, with dozens of rainbow balloons bouncing all over the floor. As the agency members sang her ‘Happy Birthday,’ the person holding the camera tried to get closer and inadvertently stepped on the balloon. Instantly, Rumi clamped her hands down over her ears and sank down into a crouch with an ear-splitting shriek. As she sobbed hysterically, the agency members scrambled to comfort her and rid the office of the offending balloons. 

As the video stopped and the camera panned back to the anchors, Rumi paused the television and turned back to Keigo. 

“Well, what do you think? Now, the title of ‘biggest laughingstock in Japan’ is up for debate,” she grinned. “Guess you’ll have to be content with ‘birdbrain.’”

“I must admit, you’ve outdone yourself,” Keigo laughed, giving her a small round of applause. “Let’s also give a hand to all the P.R. agents out there who are probably crying into various bottles of alcohol right now while they watch their clients embarrass themselves on the Internet. Poor things.” 

“Bah, this’ll all die down in a week. Now, you don’t have to be the only one to bear the infamy of a ‘irrational fear,’” Rumi said with a pleased hum. “I call that a win.” She leaned over to pluck a chicken breast from the bucket and held it up to her mouth so she could tear a chunk of it away with her teeth.

“Cheers. I’ll chomp chicken to that, bro,” Keigo laughed and held up a drumstick. Grinning, Rumi poked it with the edge of her own piece of chicken, acting like they were clinking wine glasses. After eating and watching the various videos of heroes contending with their greatest fears for several minutes, Keigo piped up, “Hey… I know I owe you two now already, but can I ask another favor?” 

“What is it?” 

“I, uh… I actually have to go back to the dentist next week,” he admitted sheepishly. “I have a lot of cavities. Will you… Will you go with me?” 

“‘Course I will,” Rumi answered without hesitation. She then shot him a mischievous grin. “Because you are gonna accompany me to a helluva lot of birthday parties, birdbrain.” 

“Sounds fair to me,” Keigo smiled. “Thanks, Rumi.” 

“Don’t,” Rumi shrugged and took another piece of chicken from the bucket. “It’s just what friends do. I know you’d do the same for me in a heartbeat.” 

I sure would, Keigo thought happily as they contentedly leaned against one another on the couch. Rumi was absorbed in the videos and news commentary again, but Keigo didn’t really need to watch them to be validated. Rumi had done that already.