Work Text:
It started with the crunching.
Keigo knew, just as he felt the distant vibrations adapting into sound, that he had lost a feather. He hadn’t slipped up like that in years, not since he had been a bit more clumsy from the burden of young age. He had been trained to prevent those mistakes the older he got; Keigo knew he had to be better than good, the best , at what he did, which made the weight of his current fault all the more daunting.
A sigh tickled from between his lips when he realized that, though he could just barely feel it thrash about, the feather was out of controlling range; he couldn’t call it back from how far he was. He’d probably lost it when he had been directed into the other side of Musutafu to assist in apprehending a villain with a sludge quirk. It had been messy and complicated having to rein in the phasically ambiguous body while keeping civilians at bay; Keigo had stretched himself a bit, sending out more individual feathers at once than he was used to, but doing so had gotten the job done with little trouble.
Other than his missing feather, of course.
The rhythmic timing of each tender crinkle brought Keigo out of his thoughts enough to realize that something or someone had picked the feather up. He listened to their feet, the stepandpauseandstep lasting for several minutes. Keys dangled close by not a second later, the sound accompanied by a quiet chorus of mumbling.
From that alone, Keigo could make out that it was a child. Worry tingled at the place where his wings met the skin of his back at the realization, but the creak of a door and the hushed echoes of home were comforting enough to force the tension out of Keigo’s muscles.
Wherever they had been coming from, they were inside now.
Keigo listened for a while longer, flying the short distance from the perch he had used while watching the city to head over to the hotel that he was staying in. Just as he made it to the door, the murmuring had raised in volume, bubbling up as fragmented ideas.
“Feather… nice … pretty.”
The words rocked around the walls of his mind. If this person found worth in the plume (even when it was singled away from its winged home, when it wasn’t being used to do the one thing Keigo was good at, the only thing he really knew how to do ), then maybe losing it wasn’t the worst thing that could happen.
-
Whispers carried over from that lone feather, flowing in and out of Keigo’s recognition throughout the next few days. He learned that his feather-napper was named Izuku, that he lived alone with his mom, Inko, and was a junior high student. The muttering he heard from that first night was a constant occurrence, one that Keigo couldn’t help feeling more and more fond towards.
The kid’s mornings were slow compared to how the world hastened past the winged hero, with today being no exception. Even so, Keigo enjoyed listening to the ticks and beats of an average routine.
Or, he did for a while.
After dismissing everyone from a meeting over the mission that had brought him to the city, Keigo was left alone in his office. The moment of seclusion allowed him to tune back in just as the school day was ending for Izuku. Muted stirrings around the plumage came through as trembling hisses, almost like static, before they were construed into words.
“-this feather about, bird boy ? You hoping to grow some wings or something?”
Keigo paused, his back stiffening at the laugh he heard soon after, “What do you expect, man? He’s so lame, even as a third year. He still can’t face reality.”
A frown made deep creases out of Keigo’s smile lines as his wings shifted, as if to shake off the rise of heat building in his chest. His nostrils flared around a nosy inhale, fingers pinching at the edge of his desk to keep the tremors from traveling through his arms.
“ You wanting to fly , Deku? I’ve got just the idea for you, then ,” a third person called, their tone colored with something that Keigo couldn’t help bristling at. Both his thumbs pressed further into the wood, the beds of his nails aching at the added pressure.
Then they were speaking again, “ if you’re waiting for wings, why don’t you go take a swan dive off the roof? See if they come in any faster .”
Keigo tilted, leaning across the plane of his desk as if he’d been punched in the stomach.
What the actual fuck?
As if by their own accord, crimson wings widened, extending out across the empty space surrounding the office chair. An invisible current swept across the room, quick and aggressive, sending piles of paper off the corner of his desk. They swirled in the air like loosened leaves, swaying in slow motion before crumbling to the carpeted floor.
The edges of his feathers fluttered hard enough for Keigo to feel the pull in his back. One wing flicked at an empty coffee cup just to his right, the forceful contact sending it straight into the wall. The resonating shatter echoed throughout the room, but it barely registered past the roaring in his ears.
Slanted eyes were glowing gold like near-distant stars, hot and fatal. Keigo glanced over at the broken pieces laid around the wall’s baseboard before a sharp creak made his head snap downward. Indents, matching the shape of his fingers, were crushed into the face of his desk. Keigo clicked his teeth at the sight before slamming his hands into his lap.
He waited for something else to come through, to hear Izuku or one of the other voices that Keigo had already imprinted into his memory. For seconds that stretched on like hours, all he heard was silence.
And then Izuku was walking, his pace slow, subdued , and unsteady.
Stepandpauseandstepandpause.
Flames continued to scorch at the edges of Keigo’s lungs as he tried to breathe, to bring his wings back into a slackened state. When Izuku’s keys finally jingled gently, signaling the end of a twenty-five minute walk that had taken less than ten this morning, it brought the pro little comfort against the storm raging in his head.
“Please, little bird,” the hero whispered, the faint ringing of Inko greeting her son finally calming him enough to wrap a quivering wing around himself, “ please .”
Keigo was unsure of what, exactly, he was pleading for.
-
At the slightest signal of the feather growing closer, Keigo was out of his office and on the move. Other than small steps from room to room and quiet movements, he hadn’t heard much from Izuku as nightfall eclipsed over. As worried as he was about the kid’s unusual stillness, Keigo tried to keep a clear mind as he flew over the city. He’d be no help to either of them if he got lost in his bouts of panic.
So scarlet wings shoved and waved with strength that Keigo hadn’t used since the start of his training years ago. His mind ventured back to a time when he had nothing else to use for fuel but fear; when every breath, every step and twitch of his wings were dedicated to survival, to moving fast enough that he could bypass the constraints of time and fate.
Maybe, Keigo reasoned while rustling autumn-tinted leaves off of tree tops and cutting sharp edges around the sides of buildings, since then, things hadn’t changed.
He was still afraid.
He never learned how to slow down.
Keigo’s goggles were pulled down, so he knew the water gathering between his lashes had nothing to do with the wind. He paid the tears little mind as he finally passed the halfway point of the city. Izuku’s voice suddenly came through to him for the first time in hours , sounding close as if they were right next to each other.
“I’m just… I’m so tired! Please! P-please make it stop, I just want it to stop!”
Shivers tickled up Keigo’s spine. His throat tightened around a wobbly gulp, forcing him to wheeze past the feeling of breathlessness. Still, he kept pushing forward, his shallow pants swallowed up by the cold rush of the wind.
I’m on my way, little bird. Hold on just a little longer, please.
Then, Keigo spun out from between two brick-covered walls like a ruby-colored bullet. Discerning eyes adjusted to the dizzying movement, raking over the empty sidewalks and high-rise roofs until they locked onto a small silhouette atop a wall of glass windows.
There. Izuku was there, on the edge.
Keigo called to the feather, trying to push the boy back as he pressed on, but the distance and momentum worked against him. Effortlessly, like he had wings of his own, Izuku pitched forward, the breeze ruffling dark hair like leaves in the summer.
And then he was falling.
And falling.
And Keigo fell with him, nose-diving towards the ground in a synchronized plunge that he hoped he’d never have to perform again. The ground came at him fast, but Keigo hardened his nerves, eyes narrowing as he reached out to the feather again.
This time, his command was followed.
The feather swiped out, lodging itself into the fabric covering Izuku’s shoulder so that he was dangling in the air. Keigo felt the heavy weight shifting in his stomach, relief sending a chill over his skin because he had done it . The kid, for however long Keigo had him in his sights, at least, was safe.
And Keigo had already made up his mind that he would be keeping an eye on Izuku for as long as he could.
When he knew that the feather had a definite hold on the other, he redirected their position. As they began ascending towards shadowy clouds, Izuku gave a cry of terror, hysteria coloring his sharp tone. Keigo clicked his teeth in sympathy, maneuvering until his eyes found Izuku’s, those orbs like shimmering emeralds even in the dark.
“Don’t worry kid,” he started, their feet finally hovering over solid ground, “I’m here. I got you.”
Then their feet were touching the gravelly floor of the roof. A bright yellow backpack and a pair of red sneakers off to the corner briefly caught Keigo’s attention. Three feathers shot out, moving to collect the items as he shifted a few steps closer to Izuku. The other plumes on his back puffed out as he scanned the boy for any injuries; the overwhelming nip of respite struck him again when he found none.
“H-hawks?” Izuku whispered, sounding so much like the child Keigo had listened to over the last couple of days, and, at the same time, nothing at all like him.
Tears and sweat covered the kid’s face, decorating full cheeks so that what little light there was around shined off them. Keigo stepped forward again, moving until he was able to place a comforting hand on top of tousled curls. A smile, hesitant, small, but genuine , played at the edges of the hero’s lips.
“You with me, little bird? Are you okay with me getting us down from here?”
A timid hand reached up, grabbing and holding onto Keigo’s wrist with a fixed grip instead of answering. The pro frowned softly, an apology caught between his teeth as he tried to pull away. Before he could get too far, Izuku’s fingers slid off his arm, letting out another wail as he threw himself into Keigo’s chest.
“I’m sorry! I’m s-so sorry! I was just so tired and everything was too much and I, I just—”
Keigo blinked. He gave himself all of five seconds to feel lost, for uncertainty to swell in the pit of his stomach, and, once that time ran out, he straightened. A sigh swirled into the air, swiping across what Keigo could now make out as green hair. He pressed one tender hand to the back of the kid’s head while the other stroked at his back. Keigo pulled a wing around them, cradling the boy near his heart, in what little warmth he had to offer.
“Please don’t apologize, kid. I know it’s hard, but you’re alright; I’ve got you now. Try to take a breath for me, little bird. I need you to breathe.”
He felt Izuku nod, his face all but smothered in Keigo’s jacket, and that, for right now, was enough.