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Tokoyami’s come to learn that Hawks is always adamant on getting whatever he wants out of life and nothing less. The winged hero never slows down for anything, even for his sidekicks who trail after his impressive speed with heaving breaths. Hawks doesn’t waste time with things he wants nothing to do with, and he doesn’t waste time slowing down in consideration for others. It’s both admirable and frustrating, for Tokoyami to clearly be left behind on his work-study in favor of hero work.
When Tokoyami dared to challenge Hawks’ status quo, leaping atop streetlamps with Dark Shadow coating his body, their dynamic changed. Hawks still doesn’t slow down for him, but if Tokoyami manages to catch him during a lull in patrol he’ll get some crumbs of advice. Their arrangement is nothing like the ideal mentor-mentee relationship Tokoyami wishes they had, but the hero student is willing to take whatever he gets from the Number Two, no matter how little it is.
Which is why he’s surprised when Hawks brings up Tokoyami’s guitar skills.
“Finally here, Tsukuyomi?” Hawks says impatiently, swinging his legs over a billboard’s precarious walkway. Impatience is written over every line of the hero’s body as he watches Tokoyami leap onto the metal framework. “Took you long enough. What were you doing back there, painting your nails?”
Tokoyami doesn’t bother responding. Instead, his eyes are drawn to the guitar case perked against the billboard beside Hawks, black and unassuming. He looks at Hawks with a question in his eyes. Hawks notices the look and smiles slightly.
“A little birdie told me you play guitar,” Hawks says, reaching beside him to grab the case. He hauls it over his lap and pats the cover. “Mind playing some tunes for me?”
At a loss for words, Tokoyami silently sits down beside his hero mentor. He watches as Hawks unzips the bag, revealing a red-orange and black electric guitar. Tokoyami’s eyes widen as Hawks gently lifts it out of its case with a small “oof”. While he’s no expert like Jirou, Tokoyami can recognize the brand of the guitar—one known among the music community for its quality performance and well-made body. He can’t quite stop the excitement bubbling in his chest as Hawks hands the guitar over to him.
There’s a knowing smirk on Hawks’ face.
“Nice, huh?” Hawks says as Tokoyami runs his hands carefully over the guitar’s curves. The hero pulls up one knee onto the edge and rests an arm on it, leaning his cheek against the crook of his elbow as he watches the boy’s quietly delighted eyes run over the instrument. “I used to play guitar a lot as a kid. I bought this one when I first started out as a hero, but never got around to playing it.”
“At all?”
“Nah. Too much work,” Hawks says dismissively. Hawks gestures at Tokoyami. “So, know any songs? I better not have dragged this baby out of my office for a basic rendition of ‘Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star’.”
Tokoyami manages to suppress the roll of his eyes, but judging from Hawks’ laughter he couldn’t quite wipe the annoyance from his expression. The teen adjusts his hold on the guitar, carefully tuning the stiff strings with an attentive ear. All throughout the process, he is hyper-aware of the winged hero beside him, casually watching the slow-moving streets below them with a contented smile on his face.
It’s strange to see Hawks waiting so patiently for him to move.
When he finishes setting up, Tokoyami takes a moment to run his mind through the list of songs he knows. A good portion of them were upbeat fast tracks, meant for energizing a crowd with impressive guitar riffs Tokoyami struggled over for weeks when he was first learning them. But looking at the setting sun over the city aglow with hazy orange rays of dusk, Tokoyami decides that none of them fit the current mood or setting. He thinks over the rest of the songs he knows, all sad ballads or gloomy backings for emotional songs from various indie bands he follows. With a sinking heart, Tokoyami wracks his mind for one song that would both fit the current mood and impress his normally neglectful mentor.
One pops into mind. Tokoyami remembers a long-forgotten memory from his early middle school days. His mother’s insistence on learning a certain song from her favorite composer annoyed him at a time where he was trying to learn cool rock songs to impress his friends in the school band. But when Tokoyami played the song for her at her bedside while she was sick with a serious case of bird flu, he couldn’t find it in himself to keep the irritation for long when his mother smiled so sweetly at him afterwards. Pale and bedridden, but with a bright light to her eyes born out of delight and love.
Tokoyami’s fingers start strumming the chords before he even has a chance to think.
Tokoyami vaguely registers Hawks turning to him in surprise, but the teenager finds himself absorbed in the slow notes. His eyes watch his fingers find their places across the strings by forgotten memory, as if someone else—his younger self—had control of his hands. Around them, the city streets still move with people going about their business, all of them ignorant to the soulful notes being played above their heads by the pair of heroes sitting atop a billboard.
Tokoyami finds himself a little lost in the music, nodding his head along with the beat. He’s too apprehensive to check on the pro-hero beside him, opting to just let the song play out and wait until the end for whatever snide remarks Hawks has to say about him.
You are just too young to find the senses in your life,
Looking for something else like the dream that you have,
Filled your life with something else like teardrops in your eyes,
Who does care what you are while the river flows in you?
You are not the fool, no
You’re a beautiful one
You are like the sun
‘Cause this one river flows in you…
When Tokoyami finishes the song, final notes sliding off the strings, the teen lets out a sigh. He hadn’t realized he’d been keeping his breaths shallow. Tokoyami loosens the tension in his shoulders, letting the guitar’s weight fall against his stomach, before turning to Hawks.
There’s a stunned expression on Hawks’ face.
Tokoyami suddenly feels embarrassment wash over him.
“What’s that look for?” Tokoyami says with forced nonchalance, abruptly turning his face away to focus intently on a distant intersection. Perhaps there was one more crime occurring that they could wrap the day up with. “Sorry it’s not Mozart or whatever. I couldn’t think of anything else.”
“That was amazing,” Hawks says. When Tokoyami glances back to him, delight is written all over Hawks’ smile. The young teen remembers a similar smile from his mother, a beautiful sight in the midst of her suffering, and pushes the memory away. “When the guys back at the office told me you played guitar for your school festival, I thought they meant you played some edgy rock band for the talent show. I didn’t expect this, though.”
“There’s more to me than my darkness,” Tokoyami grumbles, huffing a bit as he looks away again. Tokoyami feels the accompanying wind of Hawks’ wings unfurling blow softly against his body before he is surprised by one wing wrapping around him.
“Sure seems to be!” Hawks says cheerfully, grinning at him. Tokoyami is thrown off by the warmth of Hawks’ wings, red feathers curling around his shoulders in a gesture of comradery as the hero continues to speak to him. “That song originally came from the piano, right? Made by that one composer in Korea? I’m impressed.”
“It’s not that complicated of a piece,” Tokoyami mutters, looking down at the guitar in his hands. Tokoyami is still riding high on the thrill of power he feels from holding such a delightful beast in his hands. The heavy weight of the guitar rests comfortingly on his lap, orange hues glinting warmly in the waning daylight. Tokoyami shifts the guitar around in his lap for a bit before looping the shoulder strap over his head and hefting up the instrument. “I need to wrap up. UA gave me a warning notice for not returning to the dorms on time last week.”
“Ah, right. I got an email about that. That’s my bad.”
Hawks takes the guitar easily from Tokoyami, getting right to work in storing it inside its black case. Tokoyami watches him, taking interest in how Hawks chose not to utilize his feathers in the task. Perhaps Hawks liked to do some things by hand once in a while?
“Play me another song the next time we meet up?” Hawks asks offhandedly as he zips up the case. “Maybe a rock song, if the day feels right for it. We could play some beats for the crowds too, if you’re up for it.”
Tokoyami blinks out of his daze, startled once again by the presence of Hawks’ wing around his back as the powerful quirk shifts in movement. He doesn’t want to think too deeply about why Hawks has become so buddy-buddy all of a sudden, especially when the hero usually leaves Tokoyami behind to chase after his dust trail. Tokoyami would prefer not to waste time on deciphering quiet moments like these when he knows Hawks to be hyper-focused on some distant goal in the horizon.
Tokoyami will take after his mentor, in that regard. Focusing his attention on his goal to become a hero.
“Oh, I almost forgot,” Hawks says abruptly, sitting straight up in realization. Tokoyami frowns as he notices a stiffness in his mentor’s movements, something he’s not used to seeing from the hero’s graceful, fluid flights. “I’ll have to take a rain check on those songs. I’m going away on assignment for the next few months.”
“Oh.” Tokoyami ignores the sinking feeling of disappointment—and the ever-familiar thought of you should have known better —and keeps his voice perfectly straight to convey his politeness. “Alright. I can check with my teachers to see if I can transfer my work-study to other agencies.”
“What? No!” Hawks shakes his head, sighing as he runs a gloved hand over his hair. There’s a strange look of frustration on Hawks’ face, tinged with regret and something else Tokoyami can’t decipher. “It’ll only be for a few months. Stay with my agency until then. You can work with my sidekicks, and your paper records will look better if you stay at the Number Two’s agency for a long period of time.”
“Oh.”
“I’ll be trusting you to guard my jurisdiction.” At Tokoyami’s incredulous look, Hawks gives the teen a sheepish smile as he puts up his hands. “Hey, don’t get me wrong. My sidekicks are definitely worth their weight, but they still fall behind sometimes when it comes to power-heavy battles. I’m counting on you to take on the villains they’ll have trouble with, and keep my city safe while I’m occupied with business around the country.”
In a way, that was the highest indirect compliment Hawks had ever given Tokoyami. After a brief moment of hesitation, Tokoyami nods his assent.
“Alright, Hawks,” Tokoyami says. He stands when Hawks does, already preparing himself for one quick chase back to the agency that he’ll eventually lose. But Tokoyami gets closer to Hawks’ heels every time, so the teen keeps chasing those red wings every time without fail. “Until the next time.”
“Right.” Hawks unfurls his massive red wings, narrowed eyes hidden slightly behind his visor. Tokoyami will not understand the steel in Hawks’ voice until the end of the school year, when the fledgling hero would be thrust into the center of a bloody war between the Paranormal Liberation Front, League of Villains, and pro-heroes from all over the country. A war Hawks will be a central piece in with his mission as a double agent subjecting him to the dangerous heat of Dabi’s blaze. “Until next time, Tsukuyomi.”
