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In Which Fate Has A Speaking Role | YA Low Fantasy
Light fluctuates, shudders, fades. A balance fragile and unpredictable.
The boy was alone at last, vertigo of human interaction still thrumming in each quickened heartbeat. The ever-present breeze whistled, cold, while his shaky hands reached to the stone wall - the tremor of his movements had become a near constant in recent weeks. His fingertips skimmed the lines of age wrought deep between each brick. It was rough. Colder than the bitter chilled air. The same as it always was; he lent into the sensation.
“Apprentice,” said the bodiless voice, again. It had been haunting him all day.
Rotating ao3 in my head like a rotisserie chicken till it's back
World Walker future scene under the cut since Izuku vs. Hawks won the poll of what fic to post while we wait! Reminder: im always happy to share snippets. i have so many, send help
Anyway this is technically a draft and longer than needed but! it's fun to read through. I also had to decide which Izuku vs. Hawks to do bc I have two. Somehow. lmk if anyone wants the other, it's very. uh. unhinged.
Warning for uhhhhh manipulation? I think that's it.
“This is... crowded,” Izuku murmurs when he, Ochako, and Hitoshi enter Yaomomo and Jirou’s agency gym in full gear.
“Don’t die.” Ochako taps a code against the inside of his wrist before marching towards where Gunhead is sparring with Creati.
“She says that like she’s not about to put the fear of God into some poor soul,” Hitoshi says. “We should’ve brought popcorn.”
“Gym popcorn is disgusting.”
“I don't really trust your standards, but I do trust your opinions. Tell Shoto,” Hitoshi says, and wanders after Ochako.
Izuku rolls his eyes and scans the crowd again. Most heroes are hanging out by the outer benches, watching the few sparring matches. It makes the one person doing neither stand out slightly.
Jirou picks her way across the sparring mats to tug him into a half-hug. It’s not… usual for her. She’s not one to reach out like this, for all that Class A is forged stronger than steel. So he tilts his head in silent question.
“Someone has been pushing our PR department to arrange this,” Jirou mutters, quiet enough for it to be lost amidst the gym’s noise. “We’re springing the trap to find out who.”
“Could be my mess. I might have nearly kicked a hornets nest lately.” Izuku scans the usual crowd and heroes mixed in when she steps back. Hawks isn’t watching him, not really, but he’s ruffled enough to have already had a few turns on the mats from.
Huh.
Izuku almost expected the hero to just walk up and stab him. It’d certainly be a surprise, and Hawks is decent at reading people.
Jirou follows his gaze and curses under her breath. “If you need to run, tell us. We’ll find you an out.”
Izuku shoots her a thankful look.
“Tokoyami and Eijirou both thought it might be them, too. Aizawa-sensei stopped by yesterday and said it could be targeting him, but not to raise alarms if so. You know anything about that?”
Aizawa-sensei broke into and out of a supermax prison yesterday to visit a teleporter and was probably setting up an alibi. He also, coincidentally, would have the most disapproving expression if Izuku admitted to finding this out when he slipped while making a portal in search of snacks during his fifteen minute patrol break.
“Nope,” he creaks.
Jirou shrugs and pulls him towards where Shoto is experiencing fear through a sparring match with Wash. “Like I said. Let us know if you need to run.”
He chats and avoids the mats for a while, but Izuku gradually clocks that Hawks is avoiding looking at him.
It’s bizarre.
Every time Izuku checks, the hero is fully turned away, back to Izuku. He orbits the room as if they’re repelling magnets, but Hawks is also avoiding the very edges.
It takes a disgracefully long time for Izuku to recognize that Hawks has bags under his eyes, and keeps eyeing the main exit’s open double doors.
We’re springing the trap, Jirou said.
How long did they deal with the pressure before deciding on this option? Were they threatened? The thought spills stress into Izuku’s joints, turning him brittle with worry. He’s not an angry person, but he is protective of his class. Bringing trouble to their doorstep feels like a deeply personal insult.
So when he feels the air stir, and turns to see Hawks by his side-
He smiles with too many teeth, and walks backwards into a hell of his own design.
“Come on,” Izuku says, beckoning Hawks onto the mostly-empty mats in a challenge. “I’m not gonna pressure you into a spar, but if you need a tricky opponent, Kacchan says I’m a bit of a bastard in a straight fight.”
“A tricky opponent,” Hawks repeats with a slight grin. “Yeah, I’ll bite.”
Izuku tilts his head, analyzing the reluctance, the lethargy, the shadows under the hero’s eyes that are buried under makeup. It wouldn't be noticeable if Hawks hadn't glanced towards the exit before replying.
He says one thing and acts in another way.
Sharp eyes flick behind Izuku, and the elder hero’s resolve seems to firm.
Ambush?
No.
Too many people who could intervene around them – Izuku’s class is protective when the HPSC is involved, and Tokoyami in particular is watching. Hawks has only ever taken one intern for direct mentoring. It shows. Izuku has an idea, more than nearly anyone else here, of what kinds of sacrifices Hawks has made to keep Pro Hero Tsukuyomi from falling into the Commission’s payroll. Risks like that aren’t worth compromising for a spar. Hawks isn’t likely to start anything that his fledgling could get in trouble for.
So, what’s going on?
Izuku crosses the gym and pulls a couple wooden practice daggers off the wall. Hawks joins him after a moment of hesitation. Interestingly, he goes for a pair of swords slightly shorter than his feathers. The bokken is a surprising choice.
They take to the mats.
Stances ready.
It’s rather useless to have a countdown at this point. Hawks shifts his weight, just a little, and Izuku blurs forward.
Wood clacks together, impact rattling down Izuku’s arm from the bokken’s force. He slides under the attack, bending unnaturally to get inside Hawks’ guard. The false dagger blade lashes out, nearly catching ribs before wings flap hastily. Air billows. Hawks retreats.
Izuku follows, meeting the attack with a move Taka taught him. Wooden blades crack louder the second time. Hawks lashes out with his freehand sword. Izuku parries over his shoulder, traps the reaching arm against his side, and grabs onto the Null. Five small portals open into a handhold.
Gravity shudders.
His own tie to the earth’s mass vanishes.
Izuku uses the falter in reality to swing his weight up, wrapping legs around the juncture between wing and spine. Gravity reverts. Abrupt weight brings Hawks crashing down to plastic sparring mats. He manages to turn it into a roll, wooden blades lashing out. Izuku must drop the hero and vanish into a portal or else be nearly skewered.
He drops back into reality behind Hawks.
Far beyond, at the edge of the gym, Izuku catches sight of a figure in a business suit. A HPSC worker.
Why did they signal Hawks to accept a spar he didn’t want-
Wait.
Izuku fights like his mentors.
He fights a lot like Taka, who Izuku now knows has leveled at least one army, and a little like Cloud, who has walked every path in the spectrum of politician to hero to villain to informant. Skillsets of spies and assassins, world-breakers and berserkers live on in his tactics. Hisen is the father of two legends and twice as powerful within his domain. Izuku carries a mishmash of martial arts styles, most of which exist in far less efficient forms in this world. Lethality of combat is a localized scale between dimensions. He was raised in part by walking monsters and creatures straight out of nightmares to capably defend himself in all of them. Standards shifted accordingly.
It must show.
Hawks uses his distraction to press the advantage of longer weaponry. Izuku grits sharpened teeth with every blocked or dodged hit. An unexpected kick punches air from his lungs, and Izuku snarls with the impact. He grabs the offending boot by the heel, pushes upwards, and forces Hawks to do the splits mid-fight just to maintain balance.
Izuku was hoping that would flip him, but no, the winged hero just has to secretly be a noodle. Sure, alright. Improvise, adapt, overcome.
“Hey!” Hawks yelps, and slams both palms into the ground to try and kick Izuku with his now-free leg. Izuku hops back a step to dodge it.
"Nice try," Izuku says. He switches his grip on the ankle, turns, and does his level best to throw the hero.
Just to see if he can.
Also because they started this off intensely and Izuku isn’t a fan of that. Hawks doesn’t want to spar, so Izuku is going to make this more of a game than combat. Hopefully it’ll help without getting him in trouble with the Commission.
Red wings course-correct midair. Hawks skids back a meter with his landing, then sprints directly at Izuku.
Swords low and ready to strike.
Izuku does the obvious thing-
He braces himself, lets the Null fill his lungs, and adjusts as his back bends under the weight of stardust. Jagged teeth force his mouth open and diverging realities turn the bright room brilliant, but Izuku has forgotten what it feels like to live without hollow bones. He steadies himself against the fabric of reality and lets time slow to a crawl.
One sword carves up from the right, another slashed down from the left. Izuku meets both with daggers. This slow with a timestream stretching tripwire-thin, it’s precision work to twist, redirecting both wooden blades around him like water down a mountain. Izuku slips between them and steps forward.
Past the outer blood circle, and into his guard.
Hawks adjusts faster than expected and flips over him, red-black winds steadying the showy maneuver. Time snaps back into a proper pace.
Hawks crashes to earth, stumbles, and stares at Izuku with something a little too disbelieving to be surprise.
Izuku considers him.
Steps forward, then back in a feint.
The playful kind.
Hawks tries to fight back a grin and raises his swords. The edges of that exhaustion roll off his shoulders, sinking into the mats and leaving the man behind a little lighter. Tension eases further.
When they clash again, the sound is less abrasive. Hawks pulls out a flashy barrel roll of an attack that has Izuku laughing as he parries. He dances forward on playful, too-agile feet to meet it.
The match turns into less of a spar and more a chance to show off, a game of tag easily dismissed as a test of skill.
Izuku weaves through defenses to reach out and boop the hero on the nose when Hawks fails to anticipate him engulfing an entire sword-arm in a portal. It is, honestly, so much fun to spar against someone who is surprised by his tricks.
Izuku guides the match with increasingly silly efforts, and Hawks matches him step for step, trying to trip him wit or smack him with a wing. Izuku gets a face full of downy feathers when he tries to dodge under one. It’s a different kind of victory when Hawks laughs at that. Izuku sputters and tries to get Hawks in a headlock, forcing the hero to keep facing away from the lurking HPSC Agent.
Hawks retaliates by sweeping Izuku’s feet out from under him.
Oh, it is on, Izuku thinks, and rolls to his feet, dropping both daggers in a showy gesture.
Hawks gets out a quiet, “shit” before he’s tackled.
What follows is more of a preschool slap-fight than two sparring heroes.
It ends when Hawks licks his palm and tries to get Izuku with it, resulting in a chase around the gym neither are trying very hard at. Yaomomo calls the match in a tie once they end up in her agency’s rafters.
“I won,” Hawks declares when they reconvene on the ground, practically preening.
"That started out way too lethal," Ochako murmurs when Izuku plops down on one of the rafters next to her. She crosses her arms, pinkies curled in out of habit. "What happened?"
"Completely," Izuku lies.
-
"I think the HPSC has started to notice I don't judge Hawks for their orders. They're testing limits." Izuku sits next to his friend, watching Tokoyami start up a spar against Suneater. "It means they can keep sending him in to pry about my quirk without our legal team hitting back as hard as we should."
"We could," Ochako offers. Izuku glances at her out of the corner of his eye.
Ochako is fire and steel, wrapped up in bubblegum pink. Graduation and the following years have forged that combination into experience and brass knuckles. If he asks, she would help him burn the HPSC to the ground, no hesitation. That's not a question even worth considering.
But they would start the fire with Hawks, who is very much a victim in this situation.
Pawns don't make moves for themselves.
Not really.
"...It wouldn't end well," is all Izuku says. Ochako nods, once, taking his words with all the care of a prophecy.
Then she flips off the rafter and drops to the floor to beat her old mentor into the ground. Gunhead meets her challenge laughing.
-
Izuku switches apps on his phone when Hawks lands on the rafter next to him. Tokoyami is worrying, but it's the kind of worry he doesn't need a trained spy to pick up on.
If he was trained.
That's a thought.
"Do you have infiltration training?" Izuku asks before Hawks can say anything.
The HPSC'S hero gives him an odd look. "Cryptid, you were involved in the Re-Destro case."
"That's experience. Not formal training," Izuku points out. He pulls off a finger-less glove and fiddles with it, just to have a texture to ground himself with.
Hawks takes far too long to reply. It's not one he thinks Izuku wants to hear, or not an answer he can give.
Stitched ridges line the back of the gloves. A scratch is indented on the second knuckle, which Izuku smooths over until the divot is pressed into his memory.
"Yeah," Hawks lies, like there isn't a chasm of silence lying dead between them. "Took a few classes."
Hawks never learns field skills through structured classes. He may have tutors and teachers, but not classes.
Not if he's with the HPSC.
Universal constant.
He's also too good to have made that tell anything but intentional. Hawks plays at being a hero, but under that he's acting on the HPSC's command first and foremost. Two masks, but that's all they are. Just masks. At his core, Hawks is trapped so far down in circumstances he never wanted that he's begun to give up on climbing.
"Wild," is all Izuku says. Sludge presses at the back of his throat. "You deserved better." Still do.
Hawks startles, then snorts. "You know, R&D thinks you've got a predetermination vestigial quirk."
"Good luck to them, I guess? Vestigial quirks are a part of maybe 3% of the population, tops. What kind of genetic lottery game is that?"
"Come on, at least tell me they're wrong so I can laugh about it."
So that's what Hawks is here for.
"...Nah, the mystery is part of my charm." Izuku slips his glove back on, covering up inked lines tracing across his hands. "Sorry to disappoint."
I hope you won't be blamed for this. I hope failure is not punishment to you in this world.
"It is your whole marketing plan," Hawks says. Morse taps out on the beam.
E-Y-E-S-F-R-O-N-T.
"Gotta commit," Izuku agrees as he drums out, W-H-E-R-E.
Hawks folds the hand near Izuku into field signals, six and four. Old practice keeps him from turning around to check for their watchers, but Izuku still wants to know.
They don't trust Hawks to do this alone.
Could be internal politics. Could be backup.
Where does Hawks fall?
Izuku takes a risk. "You can't record in Japan without permission."
Hawks shakes his head. "They don't care. But wow, look, I guess I lost the bug. What a shame."
"We mourn it," Izuku says with faux-greif. "And all the secrets it would have spilled. Good riddance and good night."
“Wish that were me,” Hawks says, only half-joking. Izuku sobers at the reminder of how tired the hero next to him is. He can’t remember the last time Hawks looked genuinely relaxed.
Even now.
“It could be.”
Hawks chuckles, taking his suggestion to go pass out the wrong way. “Nah, I’m not about to slow down and leave it to your group just yet. I’m not that old.”
“I don’t think you’re old. Heck, Gunhead’s still a fan favorite, and he was an experienced hero before your debut.” Izuku presses down on the divots in his glove. “But I do think you need to rest.”
“Oh, so this is the wisdom I’ve heard so much about. Endeavor-” Hawks cuts himself off.
The silence stretches, threatening to become awkward, but Hawks recovers just in time. “Anyway. You’ve got a reputation, kid. You know that, right?”
“Do you believe it?” Izuku asks, genuinely curious. He knows the older heroes talk about their class. Everyone here has a reputation, and Izuku is recognized by Wikipedia as a cryptid. He can infer the rest.
“Not enough data,” Hawks says flippantly. “Got any advice for a bird learning learning to give his heroics career a little endurance?”
It’s blatant bait and fishing for information at the behest of his mission orders. Jokes on him, though. Izuku's been waiting on this opening for years.
"Life is not based on endurance," he tells Hawks gently. "If there's one thing I've figured out, it's that we are made to live, not claw our way from day to day in search of survival."
"Pretty words," Hawks says. His smile is crooked, picture-perfect and plastic-fake. "Should've figured from a member of that hell class."
Misdirection.
Sure.
Whatever works for him.
"You sound like Compress," Izuku mutters, pointedly ignoring it when Hawks chokes on air. "Keep your cards close as you like. Just don't start thinking you're alone."
"I was really expecting you to be more subtle about that," Hawks says.
"Okay. How about this: birds of a feather should flock together. Go talk to your chick, hawk-man." Izuku adjusts so he's crouching on the rafter beam. He turns just in time to catch sight of two HPSC uniforms in the entrance hallway.
He's not leaving Hawks here with them.
"Can you drop me off somewhere?"
Hawks raises an eyebrow. "That- you are an entire teleporter."
"Irrelevant," Izuku sniffs, prodding Hawks until he stands up and unlocks a skylight. "Call it a gift to a friend, freely given."
"Sure, a favor."
"Gift," Izuku corrects as he lets Hawks toss him over a shoulder in a rescue hold. "Life isn't transactional."
"Could have sworn you said differently at a conference." Hawks pauses so Izuku can shut the window after them.
"Head north by northwest. Anyway, it's different when you're weaving fate. Transactions are like business deals. I don't talk with friends like I'm in a meeting. That's just exhausting. But HeroCon is fun because I can be weird and nobody knows if it's bullshit or if I'm telling the truth."
"None of it is bullshit."
"I legally should not confirm or deny," Izuku says flatly enough that Hawks should hear the unspoken warning. For all they can chat as coworkers and friends of friends, Izuku knows the lines in this conversation.
Sure enough, Hawks redirects seamlessly. "Gotta give the kids something. Not that I've been watching your fan theorists, but there are some smart kids out there. Unrelated, but have you met Chithulu?"
"Egomaniac ass," Izuku grumbles at the memory. "I traded the last one I met a bag of hot pockets to drown the All for One on that world. He ripped me off! So rude."
Hawks' flight pattern experiences a sudden loss of altitude. Izuku, who falls in arguably more dangerous ways every other hour, fails to notice the stutter until after Hawks has regained control.
"Take a left here," Izuku says once it becomes clear he's accidentally either killed the conversation or stunned his local bird speechless. "Oh look, a balcony! You should land on it."
Hawk's expression is a thing of beauty when Izuku has him stop off at Miruko's agency. He might still be stunned, though. It's hard to tell.
"I can take it from here," Miruko tells Izuku as they land.
"Miruko-" Hawks tries to latch onto her arm, dodges the reflexive swat also via instinct, and proceeds to nearly melt. "The kids are bribing Chithulu. Why didn't I get a rebellious teenage phase?"
"You had it when you were twenty-three," Izuku points out. Hawks melts further into Miruko.
"Oh?" She asks. "What is this?"
"I mean, I know what he did, but saying that is going to make me so cursed. Unrelated, but bleach is not going to wash smoke out of those walls, and couples therapy is so worth the cost in your case."
Hawks makes a miserable little noise.
Miruko isn't letting her bestie go after that, so Izuku considers his task accomplished.
He drops into a portal as she winds up to either punch Hawks in the shoulder or grab him for a hug. He's not around long enough to know.
On his way back he might, possibly, reach through the fabric of reality to check what's in an HPSC briefcase those suits were carrying.
Maybe.
It's very illegal, so Izuku is choosing to believe that it was a complete accident he saw papers with some rather dire implications. And an assassination order.
He desperately wants a date and time to catch this. Paper trails are good, but they're not omniscient.
The HPSC uses hero licenses to track which bodies on infrared camera are allowed to exist there. It's a ridiculous setup. Something about doors and a whole team monitoring an AI that monitors every room except for a few blindspots. Izuku can't even teleport into the lobby without alarms going off.
Izuku considers this, then leans back into the Null. He lets go of his world, closes his eyes, and drops into the void.
