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The raid on the Paranormal Liberation Front ended with devastating results. Hawks supposes he should take more solace in the fact that civilian casualties were less than Kamino, but it’s hard to find peace with that number when the hero death toll was a glaring red blaze in his mind.
(Hawks should’ve been faster.)
He can’t think about that now, imprisoned on his hospital bed with hundreds of other heroes fighting for their lives in the rooms surrounding him. He shouldn’t torture himself with the numbers, but they attack him anyway, stoked to a full vitality every time Hawks picks up on a flatline somewhere in the building, hears the wails of a heartbroken family member, feels the grunts of pain from amputated or paralyzed heroes forced to retire too early—
He needs to stop.
Hawks hisses out a shaky sigh through his teeth once again, gripping the sheets of his bed. Around him, the mundane sounds of the hospital vibrate in his sensitive ears. The drip of his IV line. The beeps of a thousand machines. The squeaks of metal carts. The breaths of a thousand lives. Some healthy and optimistic. Others struggling to survive. And every so often, one breathing their last—
He needs to stop.
Hawks tiredly pulls his headphones over his ears again, ignoring the sting of his earlobes. He’s been wearing his headphones ever since he first regained consciousness, and the pressure the cushions have wrecked onto his ears have turned his skin into an irritated red. But every time Hawks stops the music and pulls down the device to rest, the thoughts come to plague him once again.
The lives he sacrificed. The lives they lost anyway. Can he really say he saved anyone?
(What if it’s all pointless?)
The Man Who Goes Too Fast for His Own Good. Hawks isn’t sure why people don’t like it when he goes fast. He must go fast.
(Because when he stops, he tortures himself with all the failures.)
His finger hovers over the play button on his phone. Hawks stares at the album cover, some random indie rock band that popped up into his shuffle play. Made by civilians. The band’s still alive, somewhere in the country. Oblivious to the heavy tolls the heroes paid to ensure their freedom for music. They’re still alive, working hard on their next hit, dreaming of success and fame as they’re driven by their passion. Hawks envisions a five-member band laughing in a bar, drinking merrily and telling stupid jokes without a care for the dangerous world around them.
And that’s enough for Hawks, right now. To know the people feel safe with the heroes watching over them. Safe, secure, free to laugh.
(Hawks wishes he had that same freedom.)
“Ugh, shut up,” Hawks mutters to himself, sighing heavily. He tosses his phone further down the bed, bringing his knees up to rest his head against them. The headphones muffle the sounds of the hospital around him, and Hawks ignores the constant ring of death’s bell for a moment of peace.
He wants a distraction.
Hawks made sure to relay the importance of taking the utmost precautions to Endeavor during his infiltration mission. Every coded message he delivered to the Number One, cheerful voice clashing with a stony face, was met with a sincere seriousness in Endeavor’s eyes that Hawks took comfort in every time he flew away to rejoin the League. He trusted Endeavor. The man was the hardest working hero of all with an impossible dream Hawks can relate to in his own way. Hawks knew Endeavor would take his warnings seriously, and do everything he could to minimize casualties.
(Endeavor’s the only one he can trust to take every measure possible. The Hero Commission wouldn’t; numbers are the only thing they can see.)
The raid started out fine. Jaku Hospital and Gunga Mountain Villa were simultaneously stormed on by an overwhelming army of heroes. Major commanders of the Liberation were taken down in an instant, and the heroes began the treacherous battle of subduing the rest of the army by force. They had the element of surprise. Everything was kept top secret and withheld from the villains.
Then, Shigaraki woke up.
“Hawks-san,” the nurse says, flipping through his medical charts. There’s a furrow in her brow that Hawks isn’t used to seeing on people around him. “You haven’t been eating well, have you? Your blood sugar’s a bit lower than expected.”
“Ah, is it? My bad,” Hawks replies, scratching his temple with a sheepish smile. He pretends he doesn’t see the nurse glancing at his food tray, set aside on the table with its contents half eaten. “My stomach hasn’t been cooperating lately.”
“Would you like us to serve you food that’s easier to digest?” the nurse asks. “Our chef cooks a wide variety of soups.”
“That’s okay, I can eat,” Hawks says. The smile is still on his face. “I guess I’ve been too distracted by that beautiful soap opera you guys have playing on TV.”
The nurse laughs, glancing at the TV. It’s a sorry little thing, a tiny flat-screen barely bigger than a tablet. On it, a grainy episode of an old-time sitcom plays on repeat. The nurse turns back to Hawks, eyes bright with amusement and worry no longer on her face.
“Well, if you’re sure then,” the nurse says, hanging the chart back at the foot of his bed and walking out of the room. She doesn’t notice the plastic nature of Hawks’ smile as she exits. “Please take care of yourself, Hawks.”
Miruko was the one who realized Shigaraki was no longer a small-time villain. The rabbit hero had tried to end him once and for all, but the Nomu were numerous and her tolls had been paid. She had succeeded in relaying to message to Endeavor, then to the rest of the back-up as Endeavor was held down by the female Nomu.
EraserHead’s level-headed brain enabled him to form a quick plan of action amidst the chaos. Present Mic and X-Less succeeded in destroying the capsule Shigaraki was stored in, as well as most the equipment.
But there is when things went wrong. There’s a reason why Hawks doesn’t trust any of the other heroes to handle his work. Despite Miruko’s warnings about prioritizing Shigaraki and the electric currents being the trigger to their awakening, Shigaraki’s still heart brought the heroes’ guard down. In the chaos of the Nomu’s rampage, anxiety put Present Mic’s focus on the doctor. And X-Less’ methodical nature compelled him to take time to clear out his surroundings before carrying out his tasks. Neither noted the sparks coming from the broken equipment scattered around the pool of fluids.
Present Mic was too emotional. X-Less was too slow.
But Hawks can’t bring himself to hold a grudge when there are so many to mourn.
“How do your burns feel?” the doctor asks as Hawks takes a few experimental steps around the hospital room. He’s still a little weak, body rebuilding itself after being subjected to extremely hot temperatures point blank. “Any discomfort? Pain? Itchiness?”
“Nothing really,” Hawks replies, pausing to touch the bandaged burn mark on his face. He feels no real pain, but every scorch mark on his body always sings with the phantom burn of Dabi’s fires. “I think the ointment’s working alright. And whatever painkillers you drugged me with.”
“That’s good.”
“When can I be discharged?”
“I’m afraid you’ll need to be hospitalized for around two months,” the doctor says sternly, giving Hawks a serious look. It’s unlike the usual exasperated expressions doctors wear when Hawks pesters them about his release. This time, it’s serious. “Your burns are nothing to joke about. Dabi’s fires are a tier above the normal, possibly surpassing Endeavor’s. Most your injuries stem from mild to moderate burns, but severe burns cover 30% of your body.”
“Low percentages are good.”
“Hawks, you were brought in with hypovolemic shock,” the doctor sighs, shaking his head. Hawks feels a quiet sting of pain in his chest as he watches the doctor recount the incident with a weary tone. “Your poor intern was terrified. I can only imagine how much worry that boy went through. You had a severe inflammatory response that was only heightened by your naturally weak constitution. By the time we wheeled you into the burn center, you were in danger of kidney failure.”
“Did they pull through?”
“Yes.”
“So, I’m fine—”
“If you’re going to wave off your injuries, try doing it with your kid,” the doctor cuts in with a final note in his tone. Hawks’ mouth snaps shut as the doctor narrows his eyes at him. “Right to his face. I’d like to see you try to brush off that boy’s terror.”
Hawks stays quiet. After a moment, the doctor sits back, taking another look at the medical chart lying at the foot of Hawks’ bed.
“Rehydration is still an essential part of your treatment plan,” the doctor says nonchalantly as if the previous exchange hadn’t happened. “The nurses will continue to refill your electrolyte solution. You have a few more surgeries to deal with the burns on your back and face, but otherwise you won’t be seeing much heavy treatment. How is your breathing, by the way?”
“…a little hard.”
“We can put you on some oxygen. Just in case. I hope you have a speedy recovery, Hawks.”
Hawks’ memories after Dabi dropped the bombshell and Tokoyami swooped in are hazy. He remembers vague instances of Tokoyami yelping, struggling to hold his weight as he escaped the villa and retreated into the forest. Impassioned speeches, fueled by fear and panic. From then, Hawks was too dazed to retain anything else. The noise and chaos that occurred afterwards have no solid recollections in his mind.
Out of the haze of memories, Tokoyami’s scared voice rings out the most clearly.
“You did a good job, Hawks,” the president says as she sits at his bedside. The lady at the head of the Hero Commission had dropped by for a surprise visit, accompanied by a small team of bodyguards as they navigated the hustle of the hospital. “The preparations were very thorough.”
“Spare me your sweet talk,” Hawks replies scornfully, huffing as he sits back against the pillows. The cannula they’ve given him digs uncomfortably into his nostrils, but he’s breathing. The rise and fall of his chest comes easier. Less burdened. “What’s the world outside like?”
“The public is worried for our heroes,” the president replies, her usual stony face unmoving. “There is the general worry for a rise in crime with many of our heroes in the hospital. We’re slowly working to reassure the citizens. The interns have come in handy with that task. And the retreat of the League has sincerely abated worries for the time being.”
“The interns?”
“Yes.” The president’s hollow voice doesn’t change in the slightest. “There’s no need for concern.”
“…Handy, huh?” Hawks tips his head left and right, easing out the kinks of his neck. A couple satisfying cracks reward him for his effort, distracting him from the sliver of uneasiness he doesn’t want the president to see. “And Endeavor?”
“He’s recovering,” the president says in a neutral tone. Hawks opens his eyes, pinning the golden irises on her. “I’m sure the doctors have high hopes for him.”
“…The only certainty you’ve told me is that he’s recovering,” Hawks says warningly, narrowing his eyes. A thrum of worry starts up in his chest, and he wishes he had his feathers to aid him in his quest for information. “He went head-to-head with Shigaraki, but couldn’t capture the guy. What happened to him?”
“That is none of your concern, Hawks.”
“It is my concern, because he’s our Number One ,” Hawks growls. The president’s evasiveness is only fueling his emotions, complicated and tangled. Phantom burns seem to sing louder. “The world’s already crumbling because All Might retired. If something happens to Endeavor, we need to find a different way to reassure the people.”
“The way I see it, our Number Two is alive and well,” the president returns evenly. Hawks pauses, his heart stopping as the aging woman raises an eyebrow at him. “Surely you remember there is a line of succession?”
Hawks’ body goes cold.
You weren’t fast enough. The heroes’ death toll is on you. You will lead the heroes to the League again. The Symbol should not be a murderer —
“I’m not fit to be Number One,” Hawks states lowly.
“I never said you would be promoted,” the president says, turning to look at something on her tablet. Her tone is flippant, infuriatingly indecipherable as to her true intentions. “That itself must be enough information for you.”
Hawks grits his teeth. He can’t quite hide the shake of his hands, anxiety betraying him at his weakest form. The president pays him no mind as she scrolls through her tablet’s screen.
“So, I assume arresting Bubaigawara didn’t go well?”
“No.”
“Hm. As expected,” the president muses, humming a little. “I’m not quite sure where you found reason to believe otherwise.”
Hawks stays quiet. The president taps a few more times on the tablet’s screen before finally looking up. She stares at Hawks without an expression on her face, but Hawks knows from years of working with the Commission that the president was regarding him with disapproval.
“You became too emotional, Hawks,” the president chastises, clicking her tongue. “Remember your duties. Heroes subdue villains. Their redemption comes with serving justice.”
“You call yourself a hero?”
A feather blade sinks deeply between shoulder blades, piercing the heart and splashing streams of blood across the crumbling villa’s floors.
“You should’ve been keeping both eyes on me.”
A sick smile from a man covered in burns, illuminated by blue flames reaching temperatures high enough to rival the Flame Hero. The whisper of a name, far too loud in the chaos occurring on the ground floor of the villa. The dizzying lurch of the world around him as Hawks is hit with the terrifying implications of the villain’s revelation.
“There are no true heroes.”
“Did you come across any other intelligence you haven’t reported yet?”
Hawks blinks.
“What?” he says dumbly. The president regards him for a while, observing him. Hawks keeps his face carefully blank as she slowly speaks once again.
“…Any new information, Hawks,” the president repeats. “While it is still fresh in your mind.”
Hawks stays quiet for a while before shaking his head.
“None, sorry,” Hawks answers. The president watches him for a while.
“…Alright,” she says eventually, returning to her tablet. “Do you have any idea where the voice recorder you took is? We searched through your personal effects, but it seems to be missing.”
“Ah, it might’ve dropped during the fight,” Hawks replies with a sigh, scratching his head. “I had to ditch my jacket when Dabi crashed the party.”
“We’ll see if we can recover it, then.” The president stands up, handing her tablet to a waiting bodyguard. “Have a safe recovery, Hawks. The world is waiting for you.”
Hawks smiles bitterly as the visitors leave the room.
“As it always is.”
“Can I be like him? Can I be a hero who beats the bad guys?”
The euphoria of seeing Endeavor flying further past his limits brings Hawks to a standstill in the air as he freefalls. A grin threatens to bloom on his face as he watches burning wings beat powerfully in the air, propelling the Flame Hero forward at speeds he’s never gone before. Inching a little closer to All Might’s unreachable back. Demolishing villains like nothing.
Becoming a symbol with the help of Hawks’ wings.
“What about people they hurt while I’m infiltrating? Do I just turn a blind eye to that?”
“You can and will. That’s why we came to you.
Hawks’ body is moving before he realizes what he’s even reacting to. Endeavor’s heavy weight almost crushes him, slumping unknowingly into Hawks’ hasty arms as the pro-hero loses consciousness. Hawks grunts a bit, struggling to keep Endeavor upright as blood drips onto the shoulders of his aviator jacket. It’s a lot of weight. Endeavor’s muscle mass is nothing to sniff at. And Hawks isn’t exactly the type of man who lifts weights in the gym all day.
Plop…plop…plop, goes every dollop of blood on his shoulder.
Somehow, they’re heavier than the unconscious man in his arms.
“Join the League of Villains, Hawks.”
Twice’s beaming, innocent smile always greeting him from down the halls. His roaring laughter filling every room he walks into. The man’s energy was boundless, stirring delight in Hawks’ own bones as he walks side-by-side with him through the villa whenever they can.
Hawks likes Jin. He wishes they could be real friends.
“These’re my only friends in the world, and you ain’t welcome to join the club!”
Clone after clone after clone. Hawks’ agitation grates at his mind, failing to distract the cold hard focus of his feather’s movements cutting through every one of Jin’s bodies. Slice, slice, slice, slice.
He briefly hopes that the clones can’t feel much pain.
“You call yourself a hero?”
Hawks sinks his feather blade into the back of the man he tried to spare. Blood splatters onto the villa floor, the crimson color standing out in his vision. Red, red, red. The color of his wings, yet it looks so sinister. Red painting the crumbling ground, red on the back of a betrayed friend, red sliding slick through his feathers, on his uniform, onto his gloves before another wave of blue flames burns the gloves right off.
“How dare you kill Twice like that?!”
Hawks grits his teeth against another scream threatening to claw up his throat as Dabi pins him down with his foot and lights him on fire. Flames searing his flesh. All his feathers turned to ash. No one knows he’s up here. Despite being surrounded by an army of heroes, Hawks will not be saved. The Wing Hero will die alone with the man who shouted his real identity.
“Who are you?!”
A name is spoken. All the surrounding noises fade from Hawks’ consciousness as his eyes widen. Everything else becomes white noise in his ears as Dabi watches him from above, hand sizzling with blue flames. Dabi’s voice goes quiet, heavy with meaning and goodbyes as he speaks his true will to the hero beneath him.
Hawks knows him.
“Just like how I was saved…can I be a shining light for everyone?”
Hawks isn’t expecting any more visitors after the president dropped by. But one person continues to surprise him. When Hawks hears the door to his room creak open, he opens his eyes and turns his head on the pillow to look at the intruder. Tokoyami’s head pops through the crevice, quiet and wary as the boy peers into the room.
They lock eyes. The awkward pause after that is something Hawks would prefer not to revisit anytime soon.
The comforting weight of a black cloak on his back. Relief quickly turning into tempered fear. A child facing off against a murderer.
A dead body in a pool of blood.
“…...What are you doing here?” Hawks eventually asks, breaking the silence. Tokoyami frowns at him.
“I’m here to visit you.”
“Why?”
“…...Because I was worried about you?” Tokoyami gives him a puzzled look that somehow grinds Hawks’ nerves the wrong way. “Why else do people visit hospitals?”
Hawks says nothing in response. Tokoyami steps into the room, clicking the door shut behind him. The bedridden hero watches curiously as Tokoyami carries a medium-sized fruit basket to the table beside his bed. It’s filled with an assortment of juicy fruits, varying from grapes to mangoes to oranges. Hawks huffs a little as he sees Tokoyami grab one of the apples in the basket, and notes the pen knife in Tokoyami’s belt as the boy sits in the chair beside his bed.
“Y’know, fruit baskets are supposed to be for the person laying on the hospital bed,” Hawks says as he watches Tokoyami start cutting. Hawks takes the other apple at the top of the basket and tauntingly bites into it, raising an eyebrow at Tokoyami’s eye roll. “Not for the teary-eyed visitors that drop in.”
“Make another joke about me crying during the raid and I’ll stab you,” Tokoyami threatens as he finishes cutting. The teenager picks up a slice and bites down on it, crunching quietly. “We were all scared, genius.”
“Easy on the fire, kid.”
“What a morbid sense of humor.”
“Didn’t mean it like that.” Hawks pauses, chewing a little as he tries to form a coherent thought through the haze of drowsiness and painkillers. Worried, he thinks with a scoff. Hawks doubts that. He was mostly absent for Tokoyami’s second work-study, after all. The kid was probably here out of obligation. “What have you been up to?”
“Patrol.”
“In Kyushu?”
“Yeah. The agency is short-staffed. And with people scared because of all the heroes in the hospital, the Commission asked us if we could put in extra hours for our work-study as part-time sidekicks.”
“…Tch.” Hawks feels a thrum of irritation. Wasn’t drafting the kids into a deadly war enough? “Couldn’t you have turned it down?”
“Why would I do that?” Hawks isn’t sure how to interpret the slight indignation in Tokoyami’s tone. He isn’t given much time to digest it before Tokoyami moves on, shaking his bird head with an irritated sigh. “Besides, they used our contracts as provisional heroes. We’re required to obey the Commission by law. Don’t you already know that?”
“Join the League of Villains, Hawks.”
“Oh, I know,” Hawks mutters bitterly, looking away. “I know that better than anyone.”
“Then why did you ask?” When Hawks doesn’t answer, Tokoyami’s gaze drops down to the apple slice in his hand. “The crime rates’ been going up.”
“I bet.”
“We’ve managed to keep it level in the top five’s districts.”
“That’s good.”
“Rocket Fist says he’s doing fantastic with asset management.”
Hawks’ head snaps back to Tokoyami.
“If you don’t get that bastard away from the agency’s finances, I’ll kill him once I’m discharged from the hospital,” Hawks hisses.
Tokoyami doesn’t miss a beat.
“You didn’t hire me, so you’re not my boss,” Tokoyami shoots back spitefully.
“I’m your mentor.”
“Sure you are.”
“What a way to respect your elders.”
“You think the guy with an Endeavor plushy in his office is an adult?”
(For a brief second, Hawks wonders if he’d get reprimanded for slapping the kid.)
“Fuck you,” Hawks says, trying to hide his embarrassment. “Who was the one who came running into the goddamn fight crying about me?”
“I told you not to joke about that,” Tokoyami sighs, getting agitated. “And what was I supposed to do? Let you carry out your death wish when I can jump in and save you?”
“You’re saying I had a death wish?” Hawks retorts angrily. “What the fuck were you even doing there? The interns were supposed to stay in the rear guard!”
“Can we not?” Tokoyami says tiredly, sighing as he waves his hand. “I just came from school, and I had a late patrol yesterday. Fat Gum already gave me a whole speech about it, too.”
“Well, you can handle another one from your beloved mentor , can’t you?” Hawks sarcastically says. Tokoyami gives him a look that somehow manages to quell the frustration rising in Hawks’ throat, stalling him.
Tokoyami looks drained.
“I can’t,” Tokoyami says flatly. There’s no emotion in his tone or expression as he stares at Hawks. “Especially if it’s coming from you , of all people.”
Hawks growls a little in his throat, but ultimately bites his tongue. Upon seeing his compliance, Tokoyami falls quiet and returns to munching at his apple slices. Hawks takes this moment to subtly observe the teen in front of him. Tokoyami’s eyes are a little droopy, hinting at endless amounts of hours with commuting and hero work. But his hands were quick and precise with the knife cuts, so Hawks assumed Tokoyami has been managing himself well enough.
Still…
The rumble of Cementoss’ quirk vibrates the ground underneath his feet. He can hear the startled screams start up, then the first few clashes of quirks. It quickly descends into cacophony, a tense atmosphere of shouts, explosions, quirks, smoke.
It’s a step above from the usual street work.
“We’re slowly working to reassure the citizens. The interns have come in handy with that task.”
An unprecedented number of dead heroes. Hawks is vaguely glad he structured his agency to work independently during his absences. He’s not sure how many hero agencies are out of commission throughout the nation.
“We’re required to obey the Commission by law. Don’t you already know that?”
The room is still quiet when Hawks brings himself out of his musings. Hawks slowly takes another bite of his apple, trying to think of things to say as Tokoyami quietly works his way through his apple slices. He’s supposed to encourage the kid, right? That’s what mentors do. What role models do.
But…is Hawks really a role model?
Red, red, red, red. Red flowing down the streets of their battles. Red dripping down onto his shoulders from Endeavor’s wound. Red staining the suede jacket Best Jeanist couldn’t control. Red exploding outwards from Twice’s chest.
“These pros you look up to so much…their hands are dirtier than ours.”
Tokoyami’s red eyes as he watches Hawks attentively during his work-study. Chasing his red wings. Listening to his every word. Copying his every move.
Every single time.
“……How have you been handling things?” Hawks eventually asks, breaking the silence. Tokoyami pauses on his way to grab another apple slice, but resumes quickly enough.
“I’m doing fine.”
“Clearly not, if you’re complaining.”
“I didn’t come here to deal with your bad attitude, you know.”
“Then what are you here for?”
Tokoyami gives him a long-suffering look. After a beat, he waves the apple slice in his hand.
“The hospital’s fruit baskets,” Tokoyami deadpans, staring straight at Hawks. “They source their fruit from the local farmers.”
“Huh. No wonder they’re so good.”
“Hm.”
Silence. Hawks stares at Tokoyami, who returns the stare just as evenly. Neither move for a while. It’s a little uncomfortable, the silence. Hawks is usually one to break the atmosphere with a cutting joke.
Yet, Hawks can’t help but think about how the silence is partially due to how short and infrequent he makes their interactions.
Tokoyami following Hawks’ trail as he leaves him behind. Tokoyami leaping streetlight to streetlight to try inching closer to Hawks’ flights. Tokoyami flying straight into Dabi, knocking the villain back as he protectively stands in front of Hawks.
(How many times has he left this kid behind? And how far will Tokoyami follow him?)
“…Have you never had visitors before?” Tokoyami finally asks, incredulity coloring his voice. Startled, Hawks rears his head back.
“What?” Hawks says dumbly, voice unintentionally going high. “Of course, I have.”
“Uh-huh…” Tokoyami says skeptically, scrutinizing Hawks with doubtful eyes. “So, why are you being so weird about me dropping by?”
“I’m not being weird.”
“You are.”
“How?”
“You’re more hostile than usual,” Tokoyami says, squinting quizzically at him. Hawks isn’t sure how this kid he barely hangs around can read him so easily. “And you’re staring a lot. It’s kinda creepy.”
“Well, what else would I stare at? You’re the only other person here.”
“You’re the most sociable hero in the top ten,” Tokoyami says exasperatedly. “With a bunch of one-on-one interviews on the internet. You are not acting normally.”
“Most people would say I’m acting just fine,” Hawks tries to dismiss, shrugging a little.
“Most people don’t know what you’re really like.” Tokoyami takes another apple slice. “A douchebag with his head too far up his ass to really slow down and look at anyone else.”
Ow.
“Language,” Hawks can’t help but snark, his defensive mechanism kicking in. Tokoyami snorts.
“You cussed at me first.”
“Stop being so rebellious. I don’t remember raising you to be so crass.”
“You don’t remember because you were never there to begin with.”
“Ouch,” Hawks says, sitting back against his pillows. Damn, the damage this kid can do to his ego. Hawks knew Tokoyami had a mouth on him, but he didn’t know the kid’s roasts could get this savage . “Hit me while I’m down, why don’t you?”
“I don’t get what you’re so freaked out about,” Tokoyami says, taking another slice. Hawks briefly wonders how the boy could work his way through an apple so quickly. “I said I wanted to check on you, didn’t I?”
“You did.”
“So why do you think I have another reason for being here?”
The shaky tremor of Tokoyami’s shoulders. The telling silence after Dabi’s declaration. Hawks’ weak voice calling out to the boy, whispering his real name with an indescribable urge to say something, anything…
The rigid line of Tokoyami’s mouth.
There’s nothing to say. Hawks can’t comfort him when the truth is right there in front of him.
“Never mind,” Hawks says, turning his head away. His gaze falls to the half-eaten apple in his lap. Hawks starts absently turning it over in his hand. “Did you get hurt?”
“Huh?”
“From the raid.” Hawks resolves not to look at Tokoyami as he asks, somehow feeling more vulnerable now than when he was at a villain’s mercy. “Any injuries while you were recklessly flying me out of there?”
“…I got my foot in the flames for a bit,” Tokoyami says hesitantly. Hawks can see him glancing down his left leg from his peripheral. Hawks feels a thrum of concern as Tokoyami stares down at his foot for a while. “It hurt, but the boots protected it. All I got was a minor burn.”
“Did you get it treated?”
“…yeah.”
“Cool.”
“…..”
“…..”
It’s so awkward. Hawks doesn’t get how any of the other heroes interact so easily with their interns. He doesn’t know how to deal with a teenager. Especially a teenager this close to him.
What does he say to a kid who saw the darker side of his heroism far too soon?
“…How about you?” Tokoyami ventures after a while. His voice is stilted, probably experiencing the same awkwardness Hawks is. They’ve never really stopped to chat for this long, after all. “Are your injuries okay?”
“They’ll heal, if that’s what you mean.”
“Oh.” Tokoyami pauses, hesitating a bit. “What about your wings?”
Hawks keeps his face carefully blank.
“I don’t know,” Hawks replies, raising the apple to his mouth. He takes a bite and chews a while, trying to figure out how to word his response. “I didn’t ask. And the doctors haven’t told me anything, either.”
“Why haven’t you asked?” Tokoyami asks quizzically. Hawks shrugs.
“Didn’t feel like it.” Hawks thinks back to the doctor’s debrief when he woke up. The man’s controlled expression as he watches Hawks with a similar intensity to how Hawks watches people. Hawks noted the careful avoidance on the topic of his wings, and both knew Hawks picked up on the omission in his breakdown.
But Hawks didn’t ask. And they both left it at that.
There’s another stretch of silence. Hawks notes that this one is a little less strained than before, and subtly glances at Tokoyami. The boy seems to be lost in thought, staring at the last apple slice in his hand as he zones out. Hawks watches him for a while, thinking.
Tokoyami wanted to be a hero. He chased after Hawks relentlessly, ignoring every careless shrug Hawks gave to him as he flew around Kyushu. He came back during the work-study with new abilities, coming closer to Hawks’ heels and fighting to get within reach of his massive red wings. When Hawks finally turned around and started giving him small pieces of advice, Tokoyami didn’t bring up any old grudges or hold onto his resentment for long. He took whatever Hawks gave him, and settled for that while looking to his new mentor with high regard.
Tokoyami never got the mentorship he was hoping for. But he still followed Hawks wherever he went.
Followed him straight to a dead body and blue flames.
“…I’m sorry.”
Tokoyami startles. He looks up at Hawks, but Hawks doesn’t meet his gaze. Hawks stares at the half-eaten apple in his hands as he speaks, shoulders slumped as he cuts away the tip-toeing and gets down to the meat of the matter.
Hawks is usually one to dance out of people’s reaches with his silver tongue. But Tokoyami is not someone he should be avoiding.
“I’m sorry I’m not the hero you thought I was,” Hawks says. Tokoyami rears his head, taken aback.
“What?” Tokoyami says, voice going high from being taken off-guard. “What are you talking about?”
“I killed Twice, Tokoyami,” Hawks says bluntly, leaving no room for doubt as he turns to look his intern in the eye. He sees Tokoyami flinch from the eye contact, but Hawks doesn’t bother turning away as he drops the ball on him. “I infiltrated the League, organized High-End’s attack on Endeavor, killed Best Jeanist to buy their trust, and turned a blind eye to all the people they hurt while I was there. I’m no hero, kid. You’re looking at the wrong person to help you spread your wings.”
“Uh…” Tokoyami stammers, and Hawks scoffs at him. The boy silently flounders for a while before trying to pick things back up. “You…You did all that so you could gather intel, right? Everything you did made the raid possible, so—”
“What part of ‘I’m not a hero’ do you not understand?” Hawks interrupts, stopping Tokoyami in his tracks. He doesn’t dwell on Tokoyami’s scared, wide eyes. Better to rip the band-aid off. “ Wake up. Does a hero kill another hero in cold blood? How about a guy who was just trying to find his place in life? Who just wanted a friend? Does a hero take advantage of someone so vulnerable like that? No. Heroes are supposed to save people, not murder them.”
“That’s…” Tokoyami grits his teeth and tries to regather his bearings. As he listens, Hawks can’t stop the frustration from bubbling over. “You were just exploiting their weaknesses. It’s not your fault they didn’t question the Number Two hero joining them. And…And the villains drove you into a corner at the villa, so of course you had to kill—”
“Shut up.”
Tokoyami’s mouth snaps shut. Hawks lets out a breath through his teeth, trying to regather his patience before addressing his mentee.
“You too young to judge whether I was right or wrong,” Hawks pushes out at last. “In the grand scheme of things, you’re just a kid. The people of Japan, the Hero Commission, the police, the pro-heroes—all of their judgements will hold more weight than yours.”
“……But what I think counts for something, right?” Tokoyami says softly.
Silence. Hawks doesn’t understand how this kid’s simplistic words weigh so much in the air between them. It’s infuriating, how blessedly innocent the teenager in front of him is. Hawks feels something in his chest pinch with pain as Tokoyami looks at him with those pleading eyes.
Please be the hero I believe you are.
“…What I think counts for something,” Tokoyami repeats needlessly, though this time it seems to be meant for himself. The boy sits back in his chair and tucks the last apple slice into his mouth, eyes turned away from his mentor in front of him. “…Todoroki said that Endeavor is doing okay, by the way. In case you were wondering. I don’t get your obsession with their family, but I thought you’d like to know.”
A whispered name. A flaming back. Wings of fire. A resolute gaze.
A piercing yell. A billowing cape. Wings of shadows. A stubborn glare.
“Just watch me.”
“…Thanks,” Hawks says. He watches Tokoyami for a bit longer, but the teenager seems determined not to pursue the previous topics any further.
Hawks considers the boy for a while, mulling over the exchange. Regardless of what Hawks throws at him, whether it be dismissive remarks or cold hard truths, Tokoyami refuses to surrender. He’s not sure what the kid sees in him that the others probably won’t pay any attention to if they ever found out who was Best Jeanist’s killer.
But Tokoyami’s never asked for anything more than Hawks’ fleeting attention. If Tokoyami wants to believe in Hawks, then Hawks will let him. Even if it is far from the truth.
(Tokoyami can’t fall prey to the same disillusion of heroics that plagues Hawks.)
(Because Tokoyami’s wings can still fly.)
Hawks turns his gaze to the television, which had been turned off prior to him tuning down for a nap. Thinking for a moment, Hawks reaches over for the remote and hits the “on” button.
“Know any good shows on the hospital channels?” Hawks asks. Tokoyami looks up in surprise and stares at the remote in Hawks’ hand.
“…Midoriya recently found a channel that hosts good documentaries,” Tokoyami answers after a while. Hawks hands the remote to him.
“Put it on,” Hawks says. As he watches Tokoyami, Hawks hesitates for only a moment before taking the plunge. “And maybe get on the bed if you’re going to be staying a while.”
“Sorry…?” Tokoyami asks in confusion, turning to him.
“Do you want to sit on that stiff metal chair for however long you’re going to be here?”
“I…no...?”
“Then get over here.”
After giving him another weird look, Tokoyami climbs aboard and settles in on top of the covers next to Hawks, paying careful attention to the cords and wires. Together, they sit back and watch the documentary Tokoyami shifts the TV to.
For the first time since he woke up in the hospital, Hawks finally finds himself and his mind at peace with Tokoyami crowded next to him. His heart and mind aren’t brewing a storm inside him, and the unstable ground Hawks had been trying to find his balance on this whole time finally settles with a goal in mind. Hawks feels a new resolution solidify in his chest as he leans back against the pillows again, watching Tokoyami scrunch the bridge of his beak judgmentally as the bird boy takes in the TV screen.
“I can’t believe it’s a bird documentary.”
“Heh. What did I tell you? Birds are meant to flock together.”
“Do you say bird puns because it fits with your theme, or do you actually enjoy them?”
“What do you think?”
“Can you never answer a simple question?”
“Can you never stop wondering about useless things?”
“It’s just a question . Why does everything—?”
“Hey, shut up. The ravens are banging.”
“What—HAWKS!”
As Hawks dodges the swipe Tokoyami aims at him, spilling over with laughter, he puts the multiple ongoing crises away. Willingly putting hero work on the backburner, for once.
The Wing Hero is in recovery. Hawks needs to rest his wings after flying nonstop for a majority of his life. He’s content with resting here, next to Tokoyami on his hospital bed with phantom burns and the stinging pain of skin grafts. He wants to savor the brief lulls in his rocky dynamic with Tokoyami, which had somehow evolved when he wasn’t looking and dug itself a secure nook in his walled-off heart. Hawks wants to focus on the present for now, and save worrying about the future for another time.
When he’s recovered and ready to tackle the world again.
For Tokoyami.
“By the way, Tsukuyomi. Can you hold onto something for me?”
“Sure… Is this a voice recorder?”
“You really do have a penchant for useless questions, don’t you?”
“Why do you have a voice recorder—?”
“Save it. And keep that safe. Don’t tell anyone about it—not your friends, not your teachers, not even the Hero Commission if they ever come around looking for you.”
“……This isn’t something illegal, is it?”
“I’m serious, Tsukuyomi. Keep it safe. There’s something important on there that I need to address once I’m out of the hospital.”
“What is it?”
“It’s better you don’t know. At least for now. And don’t listen to it, either. You’re not gonna be ready for what you hear.”
“Hawks—”
“Do you trust me?”
“……yes.”
“Then keep it safe. Please.”
“……Okay, Hawks.”
Once I’m out of here, I’ll try harder to be the hero you think I am, Tokoyami.