Archive of Our Own

Hawks pushed through the crowd, wings tucked tight against his back and hood over his head. He winced as someone bumped into him, jostling his bruised ribs.

It was a full house, and the cacophony of hundreds of spectators sent vibrations through his entire body. Every cheer, clap, and stomp traveled not only through his ears, but also his feathers, forcefully reminding him why he didn’t normally join the crowd. He itched to stretch his wings, but there was a reason he avoided the floor — too many people groping and trying to buy what couldn’t be bought. But since all anyone cared about was his quirk, with his wings hidden under an oversized jacket nobody paid him any mind. He was just another face in the crowd: an eager watcher of the cage match currently underway.

Hawks had missed the beginning of the fight and had half a mind to just give it up entirely in favor of a long hot shower. But his manager Kenjou had hinted that this new fighter was one to watch and Hawks never ignored a potential threat. It had been awhile since he’d felt challenged by an opponent, and he couldn’t help but feel curious about this newcomer to the cage. 

A gap in the crowd opened up, bringing Hawks close enough to see the fighters' faces. One was a bulky middle aged man, a regular whom Hawks had defeated several times over the years. Most of the jagged knife-like scars marring his body were from Hawks, and he couldn’t help the glimmer of satisfaction he felt at the sight of them. The man was looking slightly singed, but he still had the air of confidence that Hawks had manipulated into recklessness on more than one occasion. 

The other fighter had a fire quirk, if the smell of smoke and his opponent’s burnt shirt were any indication. His hair was hidden under a baggy sweatshirt, making his already lanky frame look sickly. 

This was the guy his manager thought could pose a challenge to Hawks? A stiff breeze would be enough to blow him over. Looks could be deceiving, of course — you never knew what kind of quirk someone had until you saw it in action — but this was a boy about Hawks’ age. Hawks had been fighting for most of his life, ever since he was stolen away from a heap of burning wreckage and sold on the black market to the highest bidder. He doubted this teenager could say the same. 

The fighters circled each other warily. Most young fighters had hot heads and got too caught up in the adrenaline to think clearly, but this one seemed hesitant. Whatever happened in the beginning of the match must have been enough to turn them both cautious. 

The crowd was growing restless, the excitement from earlier turning to whispers and jeers. Smart fighting kept you alive, but it didn’t often make for good spectacle. One of them would have to move soon or the crowd would grow disinterested. 

Hawks was beginning to question why Kenjou had told him about this boy. Hawks had never seen him before, so he clearly hadn’t made a name for himself yet. Whatever impression he’d made to catch his manager’s notice must have been recent.  

Suddenly, the older man charged forward. The energy in the air shifted, and the crowd cheered. 

Fire exploded from the teen’s outstretched arm. The older man threw his hands up and the fire pressed against an invisible wall, curling around the edges. With the flick of a wrist, the man laid down an invisible ramp that took him up and over his first wall.

The teen dodged at the last second, then flung a blast of fire at his opponent. The man winced at the heat, putting up another barrier just in time to block the unrelenting stream of flames.

The teen’s sleeve caught fire and his quirk died out as he shook his hand, wafting smoke away from his body. His opponent wasted no time. The teen hastily tossed more fire, but the man leapt through the flames, tackling him to the ground. He was twice as large as the scrawny teen, but the teen quickly twisted himself out of the larger man’s grip. He sent another wave of fire away from his body and his opponent put up another wall, but they were too close, and the flames reached around the sides. The older man howled in pain and created a third barrier, then a fourth and a fifth. He crouched in the invisible box, safe from the barrage of flames coming from all sides and swirling around in a vortex of white hot heat. 

Breathing was suddenly difficult. Sweat dripped down Hawks’ back and soaked through his feathers. His face felt hot and the flames were blinding. He shifted uncomfortably, unwilling to turn away from the fight as many others in the crowd had. Through the flames, Hawks saw the older man waver before slumping unconscious to the floor. Hawks held his breath, waiting for him to get back up, but while the box protected him from the flames, it had done nothing to prevent the fire from devouring all the oxygen in the room. 

The flames died and air flooded back into Hawks’ lungs. He craned his neck over the cheering crowd, trying to make out the look on the teen’s face. After a fight was the best time to glimpse someone's true, unguarded self. 

The teen stood over his opponent, chest heaving and arms dangling limply. His hood had slipped off his head during the fight, revealing soft features marred by a nasty black eye that looked several days old. Sweat glistened on the teen’s face, and smoke drifted out from under his sleeves. Hawks filed that detail away for later inspection while he followed the gaze of the teen’s eyes. Most young fighters were in it for the glory, and if they won their first action was to look to the crowd for approval. But instead of acknowledging the cheering masses, he stared down at his opponent with a look of shock on his face, like he had never won a fight before. 

The look of shock turned into a satisfied grin as the medic dragged his opponent out of the cage. He ran his hands through his hair before pulling the hood over his head and following.

-

The first place any fighter went after winning was to collect their prize. Hawks hung around the booth and watched the teen take his earnings from the clerk, shoving the stack of bills into his pocket without counting them. Clearly not in it for the money, if he didn’t care whether or not he got short-changed. 

The teen slunk towards the exit and Hawks saw someone break from the crowd to follow him. Curiosity piqued, Hawks trailed behind at a safe distance as they entered the winding tunnel that led to the surface. 

A voice echoed down the empty hall and Hawks ducked around a corner to avoid being seen. Despite the reverberating echo, Hawks recognized the voice of his manager’s business rival, Satoshi. 

“That was quite an impressive fight,” Satoshi said, his voice friendly and light. “Dabi, was it?” 

Dabi. Now Hawks had a name for the mysterious teen. Satoshi almost certainly intended to buy Dabi. After that impressive showing of power earlier, Hawks wasn’t surprised. But what would Dabi do? Hawks quietly shrugged off his jacket as he waited for Dabi to respond, letting the cool air wick sweat from his body. 

"What do you want."

Away from the busyness of the fighting ring, and without his jacket muffling the feeling in his wings, Hawks could feel the subtlest vibrations in the air. Dabi may have sounded bored, but his breathing and heart rate gave him away. He was exhausted. 

"I'd like to make you an offer."

There was a pause, then a curt, "No thank you." 

"Ah, but you haven't heard me out yet. Independent fighters risk their lives every time they step in the ring. If you sign with me, you won't have to risk your life and you'll still make enough money to live comfortably. I’ll provide you lodging and protection as well as medical services and-"

"I’m not interested in signing my life away."

There was the sound of steps retreating, then a rush of heavier steps followed by a sharp, "Don't touch me."  

"If you pass up this chance I won't offer again. You won’t get a better one."

Dabi's voice was icy steel. "Let. Go."  

"Is that a threat? Threatening managers is strictly forbidden and liable to get you blacklisted, you know."

Hawks let out a breath of frustration. Things were getting heated now, and he had an obligation to step in and put a stop to it. He swung himself around the corner, smile plastered to his face. 

"I think he made himself quite clear, Satoshi."

Satoshi spun around and gave Hawks a cold look. Hawks’ smile remained unwavering as he flared his wings. His fight earlier that evening had diminished them, but Satoshi's eyes still darted towards them warily. He’d seen them in action many times. Seen his fighters fall to them time and time again. 

"Of course, of course, a simple misunderstanding." Satoshi pulled his hand off Dabi's arm and turned to him with a forced smile and the shallowest of bows. "Sincere apologies. I merely wanted to offer my services. You know where to find me if you want to take me up on my offer."

"I thought you wouldn't offer again," Dabi said.

The smile dropped off Satoshi’s face and he stalked away without another word. Dabi snorted and shook his head.

Hawks walked up to Dabi, hand extended. "Sorry about that, but he shouldn't bother you again."

Dabi frowned and crossed his arms. Hawks’ hand dropped limply to his side. 

"I didn't need your help."

Hawks raised an eyebrow. "You sure? Because it looked to me like you were about to cause unnecessary trouble. We don't tolerate troublemakers; they tend to draw attention. We can't afford to have heroes knocking on our door."

"We?"

"Oh. I’m Kenjou’s. He owns the building. I live right upstairs."

Dabi took a half step back. Fearful of authority? Something to hide? Pressing would likely make him more defensive, and that would be counterproductive. Hawks should be friendly. That shouldn't be hard, Hawks was good at friendly. 

"I watched your fight," Hawks said. "It's rare for someone our age to do so well." There. Present yourself as a peer and you wouldn't look so intimidating. 

"Our age? What are you, twelve?"

Hawks bristled. "I'm thirteen. How old are you?"

"Fourteen."

Older than he’d assumed, considering Dabi’s scrawniness. 

"Fourteen, huh? Impressive."

A quirk like Dabi's could only be wielded by someone with extensive training. It took expensive tutors or hero school to refine a quirk like that, unless you spent your childhood fighting in an underground fighting ring. Dabi seemed new to the scene though, and Hawks doubted a hero student would risk their career in order to fight in illegal cage matches. Hero students were still optimistic. Plenty of washed up or low ranked heroes fought in the ring, but that’s because they had faced the reality of a world that only cared about success rates and flashy quirks.

So if it wasn’t a life on the streets and it wasn’t hero school, that left money, which would explain why Dabi had seemed uninterested in the winnings. A scrawny rich kid with fighting experience and a quirk that wore him out in half an hour. Who was this guy? 

Hawks was finally beginning to understand why Kenjou had insisted he watch Dabi’s fight. He didn't act in any way that Hawks would have predicted. And he was young. Where had he learned to fight like that, and what was he fighting for?

It was a few weeks before Hawks saw Dabi again, and in that time he couldn’t stop trying to solve the puzzle the other teen’s existence presented. But no matter how much time Hawks spent trying to crack the mystery, he couldn’t figure out why a rich kid would risk his life in a free-for-all cage fight when there were clearly managers willing to buy his talent. 

Unlike some of the more premium fights that took place in the building, free-for-alls didn’t require a fighter to be signed on with a manager in order to participate. It wasn’t always independent fighters in these matches, but managers were usually reluctant to let their hard earned money fight in the lawless land of the free-for-all. Those were the fights that sometimes ended with people in body bags. 

Those that lived through the free-for-all usually sold themselves to the highest bidder afterwards, if they hadn’t already. Which was why it had been interesting that Dabi had refused Satoshi’s offer, and more interesting that he’d come back to fight again. 

Hawks fought in the free-for-all every few months. Though they were dangerous, they were lucrative, and Hawks was good at not dying. It was nice to stretch his wings every so often, and sometimes he got tired of the easier, more staged fights that his manager preferred to sign him up for. 

So when Hawks saw Dabi’s name appear on that night’s roster, he signed himself up to fight. If watching a fight revealed who someone really was, actually fighting them revealed even more. 

-

Hawks blocked out the harsh light of the arena with one wing as he watched Dabi enter the cage. The crowd was still going wild from the previous fight, which had ended in far more blood than usual, judging by the red stains on the floor. 

“Thought I’d never see you again!” Hawks called out over the spectators. 

Dabi squinted at him. His eyes settled on the wings. Hawks saw recognition flash across his face, but he didn’t say anything.

The cage door shut, locking them both in until one of them either surrendered or was knocked out. Hawks refused to consider the third option, which ended with the other teen laying dead on the ground. 

Hawks fought down the instinctual, visceral claustrophobia that came with being trapped in a cage. He blocked out the overstimulation of several hundred people in one room and the memories of the time between being stolen and being sold, when he'd been stuffed into a cage and paraded in front of quirk traffickers until Kenjou bought his contract. His attention was on one thing and one thing only: his opponent. He focused on analyzing Dabi’s every breath, on studying the faded bruises and burns that colored what little visible skin he could see, and which weren’t there the last time he’d seen him. He focused on deciphering his expression. Nervousness? Excitement? Anger? Fear? It was hard to tell, with the hood shadowing his face. 

And then Dabi lifted one hand, sparks dancing in his palms, and the fight began. 

Though Dabi’s fire had the advantage against his feathers, nothing could beat Hawks’ speed. He could have pinned Dabi to the floor, could have sliced an artery, could have ended the fight in seconds, in any number of uncountable ways, if he wanted to. 

But that’s not why he was there. He was there to figure out what made Dabi tick. 

So when Dabi sent a wave a fire in his direction, Hawks darted under the flames, then kicked Dabi’s legs out from under him before flapping to the other side of the cage. Dabi scrambled to his feet, fire streaming from his hands before he’d even stood fully upright. 

Hawks spread his wings and jumped, letting the heat of the flames carry him to the top of the cage with less effort than it would normally require. He grasped the metal fencing and let himself dangle while he looked down at his opponent. 

Hawks hadn’t fought against many fire quirks, but Dabi didn’t fight like any fire user he’d gone up against in the past anyway. He flung the fire away from his body like he was allergic to it, rather than embracing it and using it as armor like most fire users he’d fought in the past. 

And Dabi was already sweating, though whether it was due to exertion or the heat was unclear. 

Dabi swung his hands upward, and an arc of blazing heat raced towards Hawks. Hawks let himself fall before the flames could reach him. The second he hit the ground, he shot several feathers towards Dabi. Dabi redirected his flames. Hawks winced as his feathers turned to ash.

“I thought you were one of the best,” Dabi said. He sounded vaguely disappointed.  

“I am the best,” Hawks replied. He sent out a flurry of feathers that sliced thin cuts into Dabi’s arms and legs before he could react. Then the feathers zoomed back to his waiting hands, dripping blood. 

Dabi flinched, then grinned. “That’s more like it.”

And then the fight truly began.

Dabi fought like he couldn’t decide if he was running out of time or if he had all the time in the world. He kept Hawks on his toes, alternating between playing it safe and attacking recklessly. If Hawks had been any less skilled, the fight would have been over before it began. But Hawks was skilled. 

Dabi grew more and more frustrated with every burst of fire. He was a smart kid, but not strategic. If he’d been less caught up in displays of raw power, he might have been able to whittle away at Hawks wings until he was defenseless. Instead, Dabi was growing more desperate with each attack while Hawks still had most of his feathers intact. 

The longer Hawks drew out the fight, the more he discovered about Dabi. By the time eight minutes had passed, Hawks could condense his findings into one crucial fact: Dabi wasn’t immune to his own quirk. He hid it well, obviously used to pushing through the pain, but the longer the fight dragged, the more clear it became. If he used his quirk too much, it would turn on him.

That fact was the only thing saving Hawks from being completely incinerated. He was fast enough to dodge whatever Dabi threw at him, but the cage limited both of their movements. If Dabi didn't have this weakness holding him back, Hawks would have no escape.

Ten minutes in, and Dabi’s legs were shaking and his clothes were smoking faintly. He looked barely conscious, but his eyes were still alight with determination. 

It was time for Hawks to end this fight, before Dabi could end it himself by passing out from exhaustion.

Hawks directed several feathers to snag in Dabi’s clothes, then yanked the teen into the air. Several more feathers wrapped around his wrists and ankles. Before Dabi could even blink, Hawks had him pinned to the roof of the cage. 

He blocked out the sudden roar of the crowd, keeping his focus on his opponent. The fight wasn’t over yet; Dabi still had to surrender. If Dabi tried to move, he would cut himself and then fall to the ground. If he tried to burn the feathers, he would burn himself in the process and then fall to the ground. There was no way out. 

So why wasn’t he forfeiting?

An unsettling grin twisted Dabi’s face. The smell of burning flesh was the only warning Hawks received before Dabi caught fire. He fell towards the ground as a ball of fire. Hawks yelped, leaping backwards before he could get crushed under Dabi’s burning body. Dabi staggered to his feet as the feathers still clinging to him turned to ash. The fire began swirling around them both, until Hawks could no longer see through them to the crowd. A crazed laugh escaped Dabi’s lips as the flames turned from red to yellow to blue. Hawks gasped at the intense heat. He could hardly breathe. 

Hawks didn’t think Dabi would be so desperate. He was going to burn himself and the whole building with him if Hawks didn’t do something. 

So Hawks did something.

He flew through the flames, swung his feet up, and kicked Dabi in the head. Dabi dropped to the floor like a puppet with its strings cut. The flames dissipated. Air rushed into his lungs again. Hawks quickly shed his burning jacket and his few remaining feathers, which had started smoldering. 

The medic rushed to the cage. After checking Dabi’s pulse, she called someone to bring a stretcher and they loaded him onto it. Dabi looked smaller laying unconscious on the stretcher.

Hawks followed the medic out of the cage, past the winnings table, and all the way to her office. She gave Hawks a questioning look when he followed her instead of going to collect his prize.

"I want to make sure he's okay." 

The medic gave him a skeptical look. Hawks had never personally checked to make sure an opponent was okay before. "You going to pay?"

"Yes," he said without hesitation.

"Well as long as you're paying you can do the chicken dance for all I care. You know the drill. Cash up front. Otherwise he’s sleeping it off."

Hawks fished around in his pocket and pulled out a crumpled bill. The medic raised an eyebrow.

"It's just a concussion, right? This should be enough."

The medic sighed but accepted the money and slipped it into her pocket. "You're lucky I like you so much." 

She placed glowing green hands on the sides of Dabi's head. Hawks held his breath. After a few seconds Dabi groaned.

"He'll be disoriented for a minute or two and since you only gave me enough for the concussion he’ll be in a lot of pain. Have fun with that. I’ll leave you two alone. Don't let him touch anything unless you want a bill. And no fighting."

And with that, she left, and Hawks was alone with Dabi.

Dabi mumbled something that sounded like “don’t tell Dad.” Then his eyes shot open, wildly searching the room until they landed on Hawks.

“Hawks? What are you doing in my house?”

The medic hadn’t been lying when she said he’d be disoriented.

“We’re...not in your house?”

Dabi blinked. “Oh. What happened?”

“You set yourself on fire.”

Dabi frowned and looked down at the surface burns covering his arms. He winced as he placed his head in his hands and groaned.

“I’m dead. I’m really, really dead.”

“Why were you so reckless?” Hawks asked. “You must know your limits. Why would you do something you knew could kill you?”

Dabi glared at Hawks. “Why do you care?”

Hawks wasn’t sure why. Except, even after all these years, some part of him hated seeing people in pain. And right before he’d been kicked in the head, Dabi looked like he was in pain.

“Are you feeling okay?” Hawks asked instead of answering Dabi’s question. “Does your head hurt? I paid the medic to heal your concussion, since it was my fault, but she’s been known to take shortcuts.”

“You…” Dabi looked down, clenching his hands into fists. “Why would you do that?”

Hawks frowned. “Because it was the right thing to do?”

Dabi pushed himself up, hissing in pain. Hawks lunged forward, hand held out to steady him, but Dabi slapped it away, his face red. 

“I told you before, I don’t need your help. I don’t want your help. I can take care of myself and I don’t like pity.” He swung his legs off the stretcher, grimacing. “And if you touch me again, I’ll burn your hand off, got it?”

Hawks nodded, stunned by Dabi’s sudden ferocity. Dabi hopped off the stretcher and limped out of the room, leaving Hawks with nothing but silence and a strange sense of sadness. 

Hawks’ door was open. It shouldn’t have been. 

He crept closer, feather blade in hand. Whoever broke in was going to regret it; he’d had a very bad day. Dabi had bailed on their scheduled fight, and Hawks was itching to let off some steam. He tried to push the door the rest of the way open, but it bumped against something. Hawks looked down, expecting a body or something similarly gruesome. 

It was a pair of shoes. 

He pushed them aside with his foot and took a step forward, scanning the room for the polite intruder. There was a person-shaped lump on his couch. The lump snored and mumbled. 

Dabi. 

Hawks let out his breath and lowered the feather. Why was Dabi sleeping on his couch? Where had he been two hours ago, when they had a fight scheduled? And why hadn’t he closed the door?

Then Hawks saw the blood. He rushed to Dabi’s side and shook his shoulder. “Dabi!”

Dabi bolted upright. Hawks flung himself back to avoid the scalding flames that rushed at him before just as quickly flickering out, leaving stars dancing in his eyes.

“Dabi, it’s me!”

Dabi blinked. His eyes settled on Hawks and he relaxed a fraction. Hawks took a hesitant step forward. "What happened? Why are you here? Do you need to go to the hospital?"

Dabi had a split lip and there were bruises across his face. Knowing him, he had just as many injuries hidden under his clothes that he wouldn’t admit to even under threat of death. 

Dabi shook his head vehemently. “No hospital.”

Hawks nodded, knowing that arguing was pointless. “Okay. No hospital. But why are you here?”

Dabi looked away, cheeks red. "I didn't know where else to go. I remembered you saying you lived up here."

He sounded lost, so unlike the Dabi that Hawks had come to know over the last few months. Hawks sat down next to him. Dabi winced at the slight movement. He was definitely  hurt under that sweatshirt. 

“What happened?” Hawks asked, leaning in closer to inspect Dabi’s face. The bruises looked so much worse up close. They were fresh, a few hours old at most. 

“I was sneaking out and forgot my dad was in the training room with my baby brother. He wasn’t thrilled that I interrupted them. Or that I was sneaking out. Or that I reminded him of my existence. Then I made the mistake of fighting back.” Dabi gave a bitter laugh, then winced in pain.

Dabi rarely talked about his family, and Hawks couldn’t help his curiosity. “Is he okay? Your brother?”

“I don’t know.” Hawks’ heart broke just a little bit as Dabi’s voice wavered. “I had to run or he was going to kill me.”

He. Dabi’s father. The man who was the reason Dabi fought, though he’d never said it in those words. Hawks knew something about terrible fathers, and the small bits he’d learned from his friendship with Dabi were enough to paint an ugly picture. 

“Are you going back?”

There was a heavy silence. Hawks let it hang there, stretching uncomfortably as Dabi warred with himself. After what seemed like an eternity, Dabi spoke.  

“I can’t.” He looked into Hawks’ eyes, as if pleading for him to understand. “I can’t do it anymore. I can’t look at them and tell them it’s going to be okay. If I stay away, things will be better for them anyway. He’ll be less angry all the time. And if I go back now, after running like that, he really will kill me. I’m still not strong enough to beat him, even after two years in the cage. Leaving is the only thing I can do. I had to run.” He sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than Hawks. His hands clenched and unclenched, and he was struggling to keep his breath steady.

“Okay,” Hawks said, though part of him wanted to pull more answers from Dabi. “We can talk about it in the morning. Right now we need to clean you up or that cut is going to get infected.” 

Dabi nodded weakly, eyes distant. Hawks ran his thumb across Dabi’s lower lip, wiping the remaining blood off. He wanted so badly to fix things, but there was nothing he could do. He didn't even know Dabi’s real name, let alone where to find his father. And what would he do even if he did find him? Kill him?

"Is there anything I can do?" he asked desperately.

"You can shut up for once," Dabi said. He reached up and pulled Hawks’ hand away from his mouth. Instead of letting go, he laced their fingers together. He looked down at them for a second. His lip trembled before pressing into a firm line. 

"Just...let me stay. Please. I can't go back there."

Hawks squeezed Dabi’s hand. “Of course.”

Hawks brought up his free hand and caressed Dabi’s face, gently wiping away a stray tear. "Is this okay?" he whispered. 

"I told you to stop running your mouth," Dabi countered, before leaning in the last few inches and touching his lips to Hawks'.

Hawks swung his legs over the side of the roof and let them dangle. He looked at the city below him, neon lights and car horns and laughter spread out like an alien world as far as his eyes could see, and wondered if he had messed up beyond all hope. 

All he wanted was to be a part of that world. To be free. And he was so close. Why couldn’t Dabi see that? Just a few more years and Hawks would finally have enough money saved to buy back his contract from Kenjou. 

All Dabi had to do was stop fighting. All Dabi had to do was stop getting hurt.

Love wasn’t pity. Love wasn’t charity. Hawks had tried, these last few years, to show Dabi that. To try to make him see. But it had taken months just to convince him that sleeping on Hawks couch (and later his bed) was better than dying in a ditch of pneumonia. If Dabi had just swallowed his damn pride for a few years they could both be down there. They could be free.

But now he wondered if he would ever have a place in that world. Maybe Dabi was right and the cage was too ingrained into his heart. Fighting was all he knew. All he was good for. 

He felt the footsteps before he heard them. He clambered off the wall, feathers poised. It was a woman, middle aged with a severe face. No visible quirk. She was wearing a business suit, looking very out of place there on the rundown building’s roof. Maybe she lived in the building. Maybe she was up there for a smoke. Or maybe she owned the building and he was about to get in trouble for trespassing. 

“It's nice to meet you, Hawks. Or should I say Takami Keigo?”

She knew his name. Hawks dropped a feather blade into his hand and gripped it tight. “Who are you?”

“I am someone who can make your life very difficult,” the woman said, spreading her hands out in a gesture of unarmed good will. “Or easy. It’s up to you.”

Hawks frowned. Was she a buyer? She looked the type, cruel and unyielding. 

“I find it hard to believe you could make my life worse than it already is.”

“We have footage of repeated public quirk use. Do you have a permit? A license? A doctor’s note?”

Hawks said nothing. He had a feeling of where this was going and it wasn’t good. He glanced to his right, where the city was spread out like a night sky, lights twinkling like stars. Odds were she wouldn’t be able to catch him. 

“Not a good idea. We know your quirk. We know what you do for a living. We know your boyfriend is currently sleeping in your one-bedroom apartment.”

Breathing was suddenly difficult. 

“Like I said,” the woman said with a smile. “It’s up to you.”

“What do you want from me?”

Her smile grew wider, pearly white teeth glistening. “Smart boy. No one wastes time on threats unless they want something. You know that from experience, don’t you?”

He kept his mouth shut. She wanted him to talk. He wasn’t going to give her what she wanted. 

The woman was undeterred by his silence. “What I want is very simple, Hawks. I need your help.”

Hawks’ need to know outweighed his need to keep his mouth shut. “Why me?” 

“Because I can give you what you want. Your freedom.”

-

He landed on the ground with a heavy thump. The fight below sent familiar vibrations through his feathers. Dabi was down there somewhere, preparing for his fight against the man Hawks was about to expose. Hawks fingered the call button he’d been given. He felt miles from reality, like he was no longer himself, just a shadow trailing after his body. 

There had to be another way. His mind raced with possibilities, but there was no way out. The woman in the gray suit had been very thorough and very convincing.  

Ten minutes. 

He headed straight to the security room, ignoring the voice in his head begging him to check on Dabi first. To warn him.

Seven minutes. 

It was easier than he wanted it to be, betraying the people he’d seen every day for the last ten years. They didn’t even see him coming. A steadying breath in, feathers out, and then there was nobody watching the security cameras. 

He found the manual for the security system in the filing cabinet under the desk, and flipped to the index, searching for the alarm system override. It took all of one minute to shut down the building’s defenses. He cleaned up the evidence, then slipped out of the security office. 

Four minutes. 

He half ran, half flew down the steps leading to the ring. 

Three minutes.  

Dabi was outside the ring, about to enter. Hawks grabbed his arm.

“Hawks?”

Hawks opened his mouth, suddenly at a loss for words.

“I need to go in. We can argue after the fight.”

Two minutes.

Dabi tried to twist out of Hawks’ grip. 

“No!” Hawks clenched tighter. Dabi winced, and guilt tore through Hawks. He'd had forgotten the wrist injury that started their latest argument. The injury that led to him flying off in anger and brooding on the roof. He pushed down his guilt.

“You can’t fight!” he insisted. 

Dabi’s eyes narrowed. “Are you kidding me? I don’t have time for this.”

“Please,” Hawks begged. “You need to leave.” 

Dabi wrenched his hand out of Hawks’ grip. “No, you need to leave.”

Before Hawks could say anything else, Dabi pushed through the crowd and entered the cage without looking back. The gate shut behind him.

Twenty seconds. 

The announcer called out the fighters’ names. The crowd cheered.

Five seconds. 

Hawks pushed the button. 

Chaos descended as heroes stormed the building. Though the commission lady told Hawks they only had the one target, it quickly became clear they weren’t wasting an opportunity to catch other criminals. Which everyone in the building technically was, by their definition. 

There were flashes and bangs and shrieks and yells, but Hawks’ was focused on one thing and one thing only. Dabi’s eyes were wide with a fear Hawks only ever saw in the aftermath of a nightmare about his father. Hawks followed Dabi’s line of sight and saw a wall of blinding fire. 

The Number Two Hero was closing in on the cage that held not only the commission’s target, but also Dabi. Endeavor was just as intimidating as Hawks had always imagined when he was naive enough to wish a hero would rescue him. 

Hawks sent a cluster of feathers to tear through the wire of the cage, praying that Dabi would snap out of whatever terror had taken hold. As his feathers poked and prodded Dabi towards the hole they created, Hawks drew closer. 

Endeavor was so focused on his target, who was cowering in the corner, that he didn’t notice Hawks grab Dabi’s arm and yank. “Come on!” 

Hawks dragged Dabi out of the cage and through the chaos. The main exit was blocked, but Hawks had spent his life learning the building’s secrets. He pulled Dabi towards a rarely used exit. When they reached the door, Hawks dropped Dabi’s hand. 

“Go,” he said breathlessly. “The heroes won’t be watching this exit.”

Dabi’s eyes were wide with panic. “How do you know?”

Hawks didn’t answer. Dabi’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Did you have something to do with this?” 

Hawks’ heart lurched. “You need to go.”

Dabi’s expression soured. “Aren’t you coming with me? I thought you wanted to beg for forgiveness.”

“I’m sorry. I am. But you have to go."  Hawks pushed Dabi. Dabi grabbed his hands. 

“Come with me,” he said desperately. “We can run away and everyone will just think we got arrested. You wanted to be free, right? This is your chance. Our chance.”

Hawks felt like he was being torn in two. “I can’t.”

Confusion flickered across Dabi’s face, then anger. “Why not.”

Hawks pulled his hands from Dabi’s grasp. “I need to stay.”

Dabi eyes blazed with fury, a burning blue that branded guilt into Hawks’ soul. “You’re so used to living in a cage that when the door finally opens you’re scared to find what lies outside.”

Hawks couldn’t argue. He couldn’t because he needed to stay and Dabi needed to leave and his heart was breaking but this was the only way. If he didn’t stay, the commission’s promise was void. 

They were going to buy his contract. They were going to set him free. They were going to let him fly.

But he couldn’t possibly explain that to Dabi. There wasn’t time. And Dabi would never accept the commission’s idea of freedom anyway. He’d never been able to see that something was always better than nothing. 

“Go,” Hawks pleaded. “Please.”

Dabi gave him one last disappointed look, then left. 

It took everything in Hawks not to follow and beg for forgiveness. He stared at the glowing red exit sign, vision growing increasingly blurry as reality set in and his eyes could no longer hold back the pain in his heart. 

“We knew you would make the right choice.”

Hawks spun around, heart in his throat and feather in hand. The woman from earlier that night was still wearing her suit, looking just as out of place as she had on the roof. She threw an envelope at him and he caught it. 

“Your freedom, as promised. As well as an offer.”

Hawks opened the envelope. Inside was a stack of papers. On top was the contract he had signed when he was a child, not knowing what it meant. Underneath was another contract, unsigned.

Hawks yawned and looked at his watch. One hour until his weekly debrief. He didn’t have much to report, so the commission wouldn’t be happy. He spared a second to think if he had ever seen any of his handlers happy. Being in charge of things seemed to bring nothing but exhaustion and irritation. 

He could relate. It was hard work, keeping the fights running night after night while also passing along just enough information to the commission to stay useful. It was a fine line he had to tread. Too much, and the various villains, criminals, and washed up heroes who came to fight would get suspicious. Not enough, and the commission would find someone else, and he’d be out a flying permit, among other things. 

Though his night might be looking up. A hooded figure was talking to a fighter Hawks had been keeping his eye on as a potential troublemaker. Time to do what he did best: insert himself into a conversation where he wasn’t wanted. 

“It’s been a disappointing night, wouldn’t you say?”

The potential troublemaker jolted at the sound of Hawks’ voice. “Oh? Uh. Yeah. It has.”

The hooded figure looked down and away. 

Well that was suspicious as fuck. Hawks narrowed his eyes. Come to think of it, that jacket looked familiar. The sleeves were burnt. It was faded and worn and not as baggy as the jacket he remembered, but then again, the hooded figure was pretty tall. 

Sometimes people hit their growth spurt late. 

Hawks tried not to get his hopes up as he casually stuck his hands into his pockets and grabbed some cash. He slung an arm around the potential-troublemaker's shoulder. “Did you hear? The next fight should be pretty big!” 

Hawks slipped the cash into potential-troublemaker’s shirt pocket. He got the hint. “Oh, really? I’d better go check it out then!”   

“So,” Hawks said, addressing the hooded figure once potential-troublemaker was out of sight. “What brings you here tonight? An old flame, perhaps?”

The hooded figure looked up. His face was covered in horrific scars that were stapled to what little healthy skin remained. His hair was pitch black. His ears were pierced. He was nearly unrecognizable. Except for the fact that his eyes were a familiar blue and his face had been plastered to every screen in the city for the last month. 

Hawks breath caught in his throat. “Dabi?”

“Hawks.”

Dabi’s voice was deeper now. Scratchier, too. 

Hawks couldn’t stop staring at the scars. He’d seen them on the news of course, everyone had, after what happened at Kamino. Blurry shots of the League of Villains gracing the news every night included Dabi’s blue flames and newscasters asking if anyone had information on his identity. 

All they had was a fake name and a quirk. 

That was all Hawks ever had too. That and several years of bittersweet memories, but Hawks doubted the heroes wanted those. The commission hadn’t been happy when they learned that Hawks’ ex was a villain, and it had taken months to convince them that he hadn’t seen Dabi since the night of the raid, except in his dreams. 

In his dreams, Dabi’s face was still unblemished. 

“What happened to you?”

Dabi scowled. “It’s good to see you too.”

Hawks’ face heated up and he ducked his head under his jacket collar. “What are you doing here? Are you fighting?” 

Dabi snorted. “I don’t need to fight anymore. I’m looking for people who share similar ideals as me. Figured this might be a good place to start.”

“You’re recruiting? For the League of Villains?”

Dabi rolled his eyes. “No, I’m putting together a baseball team. Want to be the mascot?”

Of course Dabi deflected. That’s what he did best, after all. Hawks tried to swallow the bitterness and failed. “You shouldn’t be here,” Hawks said harshly, knowing it would sound like he didn’t want Dabi there. But he couldn’t help remembering the commission’s order to report anything involving the League of Villains. If they knew he’d been talking to Dabi...

“You haven’t changed, have you,” Dabi said bitterly. “Still trying to buy your freedom? Or have you accepted that you’re going to spend the rest of your life in a cage?”

“I’m independent now,” Hawks insisted. “I’m free.”

Dabi laughed. “That’s bullshit and we both know it. I know you sold us all out during that raid. You’re working for them now, aren’t you?”

“I didn’t have a choice!”

“There’s always a choice.” Dabi snarled. “You’re deluding yourself. You traded one owner for another. You aren’t free.” Dabi paused, then in a lower voice that sent chills down Hawks’ spine, said, “but you could be.” 

Dabi was right. As long as he answered to the commission he would never be free. They wanted information on the League and Hawks had been unable to provide them with any. Every day that passed without results the leash grew shorter and shorter. 

Dabi held out his hand. 

Hawks took it.