Chapter Text
Enji really did loathe having lunch with Toshinori. At least over the phone, he could always just hang up … In person?
“So then, Naomasa tripped and dropped the entire cake!”
In person, Enji was subject to god awful stories about shit that happened around the police station.
“Toshinori …”
“Enji. If this is a working lunch, that means it doesn’t count as a lunch …”
Enji grinds his teeth together. He knows he’s right but … Maybe it’s worth it?
“How’s the new novel coming?” Toshinori asks with a bright grin. “I’m excited to see what happens to Freezerburn this time!”
“I can’t believe you actually read all of them …”
“How could I not read them?” Toshinori asks, tilting his head. “You write what you know, Enji. It’s what makes your stories so captivating! Though … I’m not sure if I enjoy being a villain.”
“It’s what you get for being so insufferable. Besides, All Smite is a popular character.”
“If you say so …”
Enji sips at his soup, frowning as his mind plays over the situation, trying to determine whether or not it was worth having to have another lunch if they discussed ‘work’.
“Have you told him?”
Enji looks up at Toshinori, raising a brow. “I thought we weren’t having a working lunch?”
“I’d much rather see you alive … So, I’ll let this one slide.”
“Have I told him what, exactly?”
Toshinori takes a bite of his rice. “That your books are based on things you’ve experienced?”
“Not quite. He knows that characters are based on people I know in real life.”
“But he doesn’t know the extent?”
Enji huffs, “What do you expect? I sit him down one day and say, ‘Oh the reason I write is to cope with traumas that have happened? It’s the reason people like my books? Because they seem realistic?’”
“Except for the romance novels,” Toshinori says, pointing his chopsticks at Enji.
“You know those don’t count.”
“To answer your question, yes. Why not? I doubt he’ll be scared off by the prospect, especially considering what his past consists of.”
Enji ‘tsk’s and tries to focus on his meal. He knows Hawks is already curious because of how calm Enji had been about the whole situation.
How was he supposed to explain this was just another week compared to what his first manager had put him and his family through?
Toshinori hums, taking another bite of food. “You know … When we met, I never thought our lives would be so tangled together.”
A scoff. “All I wanted was a ride along for my damn book … Then someone insisted on pestering me nonstop afterwards.” He pauses, giving him a pointed look. “You know … Everything I went through was your fault.”
Toshinori at least looks remorseful. “And that’s why I’ve owed you for so many years.”
“Well … Now’s the time to pay me back.”
“I won’t let you down.”
Enji hesitates, frowning as he looks at his food. The last time Toshinori let him down--
“I won’t let something like that happen again, Enji,” Toshinori says, as if reading his mind.
Looking up, Enji is struck with the determined gaze he remembered Toshinori having in his younger days.
“It better not happen again,” Enji manages to say, returning to his food.
He doesn’t want to lose Hawks or anyone else.
It's been days and Hawks is on edge constantly.
He refuses to be anywhere near the windows and every time Enji insists on leaving the house, Hawks spends an entire half hour fretting over whether he’s safe or not.
Enji finally caves and decides he has to do something to quell the artist’s nerves.
Which is how he finds himself at his dining room table, staring at a blank canvas with paints surrounding him.
“Alright, Enji … Just … Go wild!”
“Do I look like I go wild, Hawks?” Enji asks, deadpan as he stares at him.
“First time for everything!”
Enji watches as Hawks cheerfully dips his fingers in the paint and begins to spread it across the canvas in front of him. It doesn’t seem to have any rhyme or reason, but Enji is sure, in the end, a masterpiece will emerge.
When Enji doesn’t immediately dip his fingers in the paint, Hawks pouts.
“I promise the paint won't bite you. Just dip your fingers in and follow your heart.”
Glaring at the paint as if it personally offended him, he barely dips his index finger in before pressing it against the canvas to make a crimson dot.
“Look at you. Bet that could sell for a million dollars now!”
“It's a dot, Hawks.”
“I’ve seen less sell for more,” Hawks hums as he drags a finger across his canvas creating a bright blue streak. “This is a total judgement-free zone. You can paint to your heart’s content.”
Sighing, Enji looks back at his dot before getting more paint on his fingers. It takes a few minutes, but soon enough, Enji finds his canvas filling with paint as he picks up different colors. He’s got no plan, but just slapping paint on seems to be working.
“How’s it coming along?”
Enji pauses before looking over to Hawks’ piece.
It’s gorgeous.
Somehow, with only his non-dominant hand’s fingers, he’s managed to paint a realistic looking landscape. It’s some mountain path and Enji doesn’t understand how he managed it with so little to work with.
“I--”
“Nu uh … We’re not comparing art like that,” Hawks says, cutting him off. “Lemme see yours~”
Enji is hesitant before he shows off his canvas.
There’s nothing special about it. No landscape. No figures. It’s just a chaos of colors swooping this way and that; mixing with each other to create new ones Enji wasn’t even sure had names.
Hawks looks like he’s in awe.
“Holy shit, Enji … This is …”
“Not good, I know.”
“What?! No! Stop that,” Hawks huffs. “Were you trying to go for anything specific?”
“No? Was I … Supposed to? You said to ‘go wild’.”
“No, no … I think this is … Beautiful.”
“You don’t need to lie to placate me, Hawks.”
“I’m not lying!” Hawks whines. “Seriously … Look at the way you went from the warm tones over here to the cool ones …”
Enji looks at where he points, but all he sees is splashes of red opposite splashes of blue. Hawks continues to dissect his painting until he thinks … Maybe he was conveying something?? At least Hawks is convincing him he did.
“Can I keep this?” Hawks asks, his voice still in awe as he stares at it.
“If you want.”
“You have to sign it first.”
Enji raises a brow, “Is this how you ask me for an autograph?”
Hawks pauses a moment before his mouth drops open, “I still have to get your autograph! You gotta autograph all my books!”
Enji gives a snort before finding a push pin to carve out his name in the still-drying paint.
“Oh man … This is going right over the mantle.”
“You don’t even have a mantle.”
“When I get one, it's going there,” Hawks says simply, placing the piece off to the side before he grabs another one of the blank canvases to start on another piece, placing one in front of Enji as well. “Thanks for this, Enji …”
“I owed you a finger painting session.”
“No … I mean, you did … But I know this is y’know … To help with the whole Shigaraki thing.”
Enji frowns, thinking it over before nodding. “I met with Toshinori.”
“That’s your friend, right? You told me about going on a ride along with him? Oh! He’s got a book dedication too, right?”
“The amount you know about my books is sometimes frightening.”
Hawks grins, “Just remember who your number one fan is.”
“Mm …” Enji murmurs nonchalantly. “Anyways … I had a discussion with him … About the situation.”
“Is he why you’re not worried about what’s going on?”
Enji frowns, “Why do you think my books are so good?”
Hawks looks at him confused. “Uh … I mean, they’re well written? They suck you in … It’s easy to relate to the characters … It’s written in such a believable way that you actually care about the characters.”
“There’s a reason for that,” Enji says, frowning as he looks down at the paint in front of him.
“Do a lot of interviews with inmates?”
“No … I lived through it.”
Raising a brow, Hawks wipes his fingers off to give Enji his full attention. “Uh … Okay … Go on?”
“This is all Toshinori’s fault.”
“But you still hang out with him?”
“Let me … Let me explain,” Enji says, frowning some. “I haven’t told anyone else this before.”
“Considering your never-ending friends list, I’m not surprised,” Hawks says sarcastically, earning an eyeroll from Enji.
“After I did the ride along with Toshinori for my book … He was fascinated with the writing process. He thought about writing a book himself one day … So, we kept in touch. We had the unfortunate lunch together every now and then.”
“You know, as much as he annoys you … You sure do keep in touch with him. You could’ve blocked his number.”
“It seemed rude.”
Hawks stares at him before snickering, “Okay … Sorry, continue.”
“What I didn’t know was that Toshinori was working on a large case. His biggest case he’s ever done …” Enji shifts awkwardly. “He was aiming to bring down a yakuza boss and his entire empire.”
“No way,” Hawks says, sitting forward slightly.
“The boss went by the name ‘All for One’. Stupid name. He went as ‘AFO’ for short. It turns out … My old manager was in league with him and had been skimming profits from me to pay off his debts to AFO.”
Hawks’ watches as Enji sits a little straighter in his chair, preparing himself for the rest of the story.
“When the money ran out, he decided information was good enough. He told AFO about my friendship with Toshinori. AFO already knew Toshinori was trying to bring him down so … He thought he’d use me as a way to get to him.”
“Oh fuck.”
“It started out small … Just threatening letters sent to me. The occasional doctored video to make it look like blackmail …” Enji says with a frown. “But I wasn’t too worried. I’ve always gotten weird fanmail, I just lumped it in with those.”
He pauses to look down at his hands.
“I should have taken it more seriously … Maybe if I had …” Enji clears his throat. “I just thought it was a deranged fan. I didn’t know about AFO or my manager’s involvement in everything … I thought my books just weren’t selling well anymore.”
“Your books have always sold well, Enji,” Hawks says. “Especially … Oh shit … Don’t tell me … The Freezerburn books started after all this, didn’t it?”
Enji nods and Hawks is slowly putting everything together. “There was … Definitely a tone shift between your older books and the Freezerburn novels … They were more realistic …”
“When the threats didn’t work, AFO upgraded. He …” Enji swallows the lump in his throat. “He burned my house down … And … And my son … My son Touya …” He takes a shaky breath. “My son Touya was inside … He didn’t make it …”
“Holy fuck … Enji …” Hawks reaches out, taking Enji’s hand in his, giving it a tight squeeze.
“The fire had burned so hot that there was just … Nothing left,” Enji says. “After that, we began to put two and two together. It became a cat and mouse game. AFO sent hitmen after me, determined to use me against Toshinori.”
“That’s why … That’s why you’re not afraid?”
Enji nods. “This isn’t anything I haven’t been through before. But this time … We know who it is and what they want. I doubt Shigaraki is anywhere near AFO’s level either …”
“Still …”
“After that, I also took plenty of self defense training … Same ones the military learns,” Enji says. “How do you think I keep in shape?”
“I mean … You are kinda stacked for a writer,” Hawks says with a weak laugh.
“We’re going to put a stop to him, Hawks,” Enji promises. “No one should have to live in fear because they tried to do the right thing.”
Hawks laughs, pulling his hand away from Enji’s finally, sitting back in his chair. “That’s pretty damn poetic, really.”
“Well … I am a writer,” Enji says with a small smile.
Hawks wants to snap a picture of that moment. It was rare to see Enji with genuine smiles and he loves each time it happens.
Just as he’s reaching for his camera, intending on snapping a picture of Enji painting, there’s the distinct sound of glass breaking.
He briefly wonders if writers knew how right they got it when they say time slows down.
Because in that moment, it feels as though time has slowed as he watches blood bloom on Enji’s shirt; stark red against white (he’d teased him about it before, asking if he wants to wear white while dealing with paint).
Enji looks down at the growing red spot in disbelief before slumping forwards onto the fresh canvas they’d laid out for him, staining it a deep red.
It reminds him of the red dot from earlier. Where the dot had been structured, uniform, this was chaos; it captured the moment perfectly in one sudden splash.
Hawks barely notices the brief, blue glint of light from the rooftop across the road before another window pane shatters.