Work Text:
Everything I Wanted
(Keigo Takami: Age 8)
He may never have been enrolled in school before, but Keigo Takami was absolutely sure no one enjoyed it. Sure, it meant going outside of the shack, away from his dad’s prying eyes and horrible snarl and nasty punches, and literally anything sounded better than that, but school was another place with rules. Rules about not moving, not speaking unless spoken to, and everything else he thought the Heroes Commission promised to be different from his home life-no more chains to keep him grounded. The Heroes Commission was his chance at freedom, away from the pathetic shack he grew up in and the man who kept him there.
The school wasn’t a shack, exactly, but it wasn’t as liberating as he anticipated.
It didn’t help that the classrooms were grey and lifeless, with minimal posters on the wall, and if it weren’t for the fact that there were windows in the room to shine in some sunlight, it would look like a prison. It sure felt like one.
He had only started his training a few weeks ago and already determined the classrooms (really everywhere, but he spent most days in the classroom) were, in fact, suffocating. Again, this place had its upsides-the floors were clean, the walls weren’t barred with choppy wood he’d found lying around outside to keep the cold wind out or broken glass that he’d stepped on late at night when wandering in the dark. It was definitely clean. It was, he supposed, safe.
But that’s it. That’s all the school had going for it.
Maybe he wouldn’t feel this frustrated if he weren’t behind on his lessons. The other kids (real honest to goodness other kids there training alongside him!) blew through each worksheet and test with a speed he could only imagine his feathers having, let alone his mind. There was a gap between him and everyone else. He didn’t like that, and he didn’t like the fact that those he was so eager to please could pick up on it, too.
So a tutor was assigned, and boy, was she tough. Lady Nagant was her name (heroes don’t give away their real names around there) and though she came off as large and intimidating, she’s only ever raised her voice once at him.
She was kind, at the very least. A little gloomy, but she was a hero, and Keigo assumed they must just get tired a lot. She would usually say the same if he asked why she moved a little slow or flinched whenever Keigo would reach out for her hand.
But when it came to schooling, the woman was a maniac. He was absolutely convinced she just made up these words and sentences all on her own to mess with him. No matter how many excuses or explanations she threw at him, he was convinced she just wrote pretty-looking shapes and letters on the board. Oh, she could try to include Endeavor all she wanted in the work (or insist heroes like Endeavor needed basic writing and math skills), but did heroes like Endeavor really and truly need to sit in on these lessons? No. It was why he kept his Endeavor plushie in his bag instead of his lap during these lessons, a vain attempt to spare him from being taught such useless and boring lessons. Cause Endeavor, again, didn’t have time for this.
A hero like Endeavor was off flying through the sky fast and free, with the city below him and eyes searching for any signs of danger and-
“Hawks….Hawks!” a finger snapped in front of him, startling him in his chair to look up at the amused expression of Lady Nagant, who only sighed as she crouched down to the front of his desk, eye-level with the boy. “Whatcha doin’?”
“...writing?” He offered, spinning the paper around on his desk so she wouldn’t have to read it upside down. It was another day of tutoring long after class had ended, as another one of the instructors threw their hands up in despair at how far behind Keigo had been (“Hopeless!” He heard them yell when he hovered outside one of the classroom windows. “I guess we let anyone into this fucking organization! This isn’t supposed to be an orphanage!”).
Hands folded in anticipation, Keigo watched Nagant’s expression carefully as she read and could tell with each little wince, frown, and hum that he was nowhere near done with his lessons for the day.
“Hawks, we talked about using your real name, remember?” She began, using a bright red pen to circle the top of the paper where a messily scribbled ‘Keigo Takami’ sat It was hard to remember things like that. The lady in charge had told him when he first started training that he couldn’t tell people his name anymore-it was just too dangerous. “You don’t want people to think you’re a villain, do you?” she had responded when an uncertain Keigo asked why, and immediately he understood what she meant. His dad was bad. Keigo had bad blood in him. He couldn’t let the bad blood ruin him. That’s why he couldn’t have that name. That’s why he was training.
Removing his name meant removing the bad blood in him, right?
“...and then this sentence, here, is incomplete, too. Did you even…” Lady Nagant trailed off looking at Keigo, who was still hung up over the fact he accidentally wrote his real name. “Ah, kid. I-It’s fine. It’s fine! That’s why we train, right? You and I just need to keep remembering that sort of stuff, don’t we?”
“It’s hard,” Keigo said simply, looking up at Lady Nagant with a look of defeat. “I want to get better at this! I’m trying, honest! I don’t want to fail anyone,”
Lady Nagant straightened up from her crouched position and walked back over to the blackboard, wiping away the sentence and dusting the chalk off her hands. “You’ve only been here a little over a month, buddy. You’re not gonna get everything right away. You think guys like Endeavor just came out of the womb shooting firebombs at people?”
Offended, Keigo gawked at his teacher. “Endeavor does not just ‘shoot firebombs at people’! That’s not one of his moves!”
She rolled her eyes, but couldn’t hide the smile on her face. “Spare me the lecture, fanboy. I’m the teacher in this classroom, remember?”
“Teachers should know everything, though.”
“I know you need to redo those sentences.” She countered with crossed arms and a pointed look. “This is still important stuff to help with the hero work you’ll do later, right? The faster you get done here, the faster we can do something fun, like practice flying again,”
Against his will, Keigo’s wings flapped in excitement at the idea. “I’ll try again..but can’t we write something fun?”
She scoffed. “Like what?”
“I don’t know! Something not hard!”
“Hawks, we can’t just…” she paused (actually seeming to consider his suggestion) and turned to look at the board, in thought for a moment, before looking at the boy again. This time, a lighter look was on her face, eyes not full of disappointment or concern but...curiosity. An idea was clearly forming. “...or maybe we can.”
“We can?”
“Put that paper away and get out your little notebook for me,” Lady Nagant instructed, grabbing a piece of chalk and flipping it between her fingers for a few seconds as the boy obeyed and slapped his notebook on the desk. In no time at all, spelled out across the board in big letters, simply was “DEAR ENDEAVOR…”
Keigo’s eyes widened slightly. He, at least, was able to recognize those words anywhere, but what was-
“This is how you typically begin a letter to someone,” Lady Nagant explained when she turned around again to face him, that warm, excitable expression still on her face. “Know what a letter is?”
“Yeah, but I’ve never read one before. Or wrote one.”
“Today’s your lucky day, then! We’re gonna write a letter to Endeavor,”
If Keigo’s eyes could pop out of his head, he was sure they would. He looked at his mentor like she was speaking gibberish, or she had just revealed some of the biggest secrets to him, like the fact Endeavor could read and write letters too. And he could read Keigo’s letter and potentially write back to him.
“Really?”
“Really.”
“W-Would I be able to send it to him?! Do you think he’d respond? Could I ask him about the move he did on the villain fight against Mr-”
“Slow down, we’re just gonna be practicing a few sentences to start!” She raised a hand for him to pause, but while his words were stopped, the vibrating in his body refused to cease. “However, if we keep practicing your writing every day, I promise we’ll send Endeavor some of the letters, okay?”
“You really promise?”
“Of course, kid! I’m sure he’d love to get a letter from the biggest Endeavor fanboy.” She smiled at him, something also warm and special, and nothing that shamed Keigo for flapping his wings or being excited or simply existing.
He wasted no time in printing at the top of the lined notebook paper, beginning with the year (he had to ask Nagant for help on that one again. Math was a whole separate issue and one he didn’t have time for because Endeavor’s letter was that important), month, and date (again, not nearly as important) before diving in:
Dear Endeavor,
….
(Jeez, he never really thought about what he wanted to say to the guy. Maybe sometimes at night he’d pretend to be his sidekick and say some really catchy one-liner or just impress the man with his strength, but an actual conversation?)
I’m Hawks (nailed it) and I’m 8 years old and I think you’re really cool!
(Lady Nagant peered over his shoulder and stifled a laugh at this line. He was quick to remind her that the letter was private and she was quick to remind him that she needed to read it to make sure his grammar was right. She said they were at something called an ‘impasse’ and Keigo just replied that Endeavor haters shouldn’t be allowed to read anything ever. She agreed.)
I’m going to work very hard to become a hero like you someday! I work really hard with my mentor Lady Nagant and she says I can grow to be just like you if I keep working! Do you think we can work together someday? I hope so. I can move really fast and you can shoot your fire really fast and we can defeat bad guys really really fast! Did you know I saved people too? It is true! I saved a family and a little kid like me and my wings were good! Mama-
(Could he tell him? Could Endeavor keep a secret as big as Keigo’s family? Surely, it’s not like the man would give it to some villains to tell people how evil Keigo and his dad were. Heroes weren’t evil people. They were good!)
Mama thinks I will be good for something with some training. I hope I can show her and you how strong I am! I want to be as big and strong as you! My wings will be strong too, I want to meet you to show you! They are not as scary as they seem, they are really soft! Lady Nagant says they can protect and comfort people, but they can still be strong to fight too! I wanna fight bad guys and help my city as you help yours!
Will you wait for me to catch up to you please? And do not give up! I will help you fight them off one day! Your fire and my wings can stop every bad guy in the world!
Just like you stopped-
(No. No talking about ‘Takami’ anywhere in this letter. He couldn’t mention the name ‘Takami’. Keigo’s blood is bad because of that man, he had to remind himself. Imagine a hero reading a letter from the son of an absolute criminal. Endeavor would hate him! Plus the rumor among the other students is that Endeavor has kids of his own. Man, what would that be like? A dad who genuinely does good. That settled it: he couldn’t tell Endeavor his hands were dirty. Keigo was going to work to scrub them squeaky clean).
-just like you stopped so many other people! The city is so safe with you around, Endeavor. Thank you!
I will be strong just like you, Endeavor! Thank you for being so strong for us in the meantime! I will catch up soon!
Yours truly,
Hawks.
PS-Can you fly fast because of your flames? Do you have a fire jetpack to help with that? That would be cool. I think you should have one made. Think of the power in your movement! That would be so cool, it would make you that much cooler if that can be possible!
- - -
(Keigo: Age 13)
It’s hard to write with bandages covering your fingers.
That was the bitter thought that plagued Keigo’s mind as he stayed up late to work on yet another forgotten homework assignment (‘forgotten’ was a generous word for it. His aloofness for the lame-ass assignment was intentional). He had just gotten done with more rigorous training (sparring days were by far the worst), and the instructors collectively decided to up the pressure on him. Apparently (not that it was hard to deny), he had become so much faster than the other students that teachers would tell Keigo to hit deeper nerves. Harder. Faster. Faster. Make them breathless. And in turn, Keigo was forced to fight bigger kids. Older kids. Older kids who were on the cusp of making their public debut as heroes.
Well, as expected, Keigo was faster, but that didn’t mean he walked away unscathed (because he was never truly lucky). Bruised ribs, hands cut up and bleeding (the opponent’s quirk involved turning his fingers to throwing knives, which Keigo considered, you know, cheating. Then again, you could say the same for his wings..), and an aching back that made him feel like retiring before he was 20. Thus, homework was the last thing on Keigo’s mind for the night.
The instructor for it (Beginner’s Statistics, barf) was a dick anyway, and no one liked his class. Didn’t help he’s had a problem with Keigo ever since he was first brought in-he had griped that the Heroes Commission was turning into an ‘orphanage for wayward kids’.
Keigo would usually retort that it worked for X-Men, why not them?
No one got the joke. No one ever really did these days.
Still, he needed the grade to pass and move through with his studies, right? That’s what Lady Nagant would’ve liked-
“She left us,” he reminded himself out loud in the empty dorm room, the only response being a creak from the air conditioning hanging up high on the wall. Funny enough, the unit sprung to life literally right after he said it as if to say, “Please, not this conversation again. How many nights have you laid there, crying and whining about the fact you’ve been abandoned again by someone you cared for?”
“Too often,” Keigo answered solemnly, shoving away the textbook to press his head against the desk, counting the number of breaths he took, trying to will himself to stay afloat and not fall into despair again.
It was amazing-somehow, his mentor’s leaving hurt him a little deeper than his own parents (who he gave up on, essentially. Keigo could own up to that. He can count on one hand the number of times he even thought about his mother, let alone felt some longing to contact her). Why she actually left, nobody seemed to know. It was forbidden to even mention her in the hallways anymore, everyone expected to act as if she never existed. They wanted Keigo to treat her as if she never existed, which proved to be almost impossible. They expected Keigo to toss her away like he was forced to toss the Endeavor plushie (which was another fatal blow almost on par with Lady Nagant’s abrupt exit).
But through it all, she’d been his ally. His mentor. His guiding light towards heroism, his dream. She was a perfect stand-in for Endeavor. Heck, even calling her a ‘stand-in’ felt insulting. Nagant was strong and good. Whatever soured that image of her for everyone else, Keigo didn’t wanna know.
She was someone who told him he could be a hero. He wanted to cling onto that hope tightly. He had to.
Homework seemed out of the question now that he thoroughly bummed himself out, keeping his head pressed down against his smooth wooden desk and messing around with a pencil between his fingers. He felt the familiar numbness begin to settle in and knew the doubts would follow soon after. Typical, happy-go-lucky thoughts about his father suddenly busting free from prisons to beat the living hell out of him once and for all, the HPSC deciding Keigo wasn’t worth their time and just killing him, his mother exposing him to the public before he even got a chance to debut-Endeavor.
That thought made him slowly raise his head up, slowly looking around the room for a special little notebook that should be hidden somewhere (he hid it immediately after Nagant was discharged- there wasn’t some evil scheme in there, but it felt like a betrayal to let anyone else see into it) until finding it successfully under a pile of clothes. Ignoring the fact that now laundry was the list of things to do (after, again, the aforementioned homework), he held the notebook tightly in his hands and tried to hold onto the memories of it.
Trying to take himself back to those days in the classroom, Nagant laughing at something he said in a letter to his favorite hero.
Back when the only issues were whether he could spell the days of the week right.
Back when people’s doubts about him were drowned out because someday, someday, Endeavor would recognize him as an equal. And he’d be able to spill out all the scribbled-out words in the letters in real-time.
Keigo brought the little notebook back over to his desk, flipping through the pages and watching as his writing got better and better over the years. It wasn’t some prize-winning novel, obviously, but it was evident the repetition worked on little Keigo. It made his heart hurt a little bit, especially since he knew he hadn’t written in the thing since his mentor vanished (and the fact that when he tried to ask another handler with the HPSC if he could send them and the guy threw his back out laughing at him, the bastard).
That pencil he had been twirling around in his hand from earlier soon returned and had already written out the date and time at the top of a brand new page.
Dear Endeavor,
I’m sure you’ve had troubles being a hero right? It can’t be easy, it never is. Right? Though, it must be a little easy being strong as you are. Me and my wings (he let out a sigh) are just not enough, sometimes. Training’s really hard for me when I don’t have a broad enough back or flames or whatever to combat with stronger quirks. It’s been hard, lately. I wonder if you ever had a moment of doubt in your life, even before your career.
Was that last part true? Keigo wasn’t exactly sure. He wasn’t as naive as his eight-year-old self was in the old letters (he could even flip a page back a few pages to attest), but the guy did seem unstoppable. In his opinion, the only stiff competition for the guy was All Might, and have you seen that guy? You can’t even see the pupils on him!
Yet, Endeavor still managed to hold onto the number two spot, a tiptoe away from potentially sliding in at first. The guy doesn’t stop trying to be better, not even a little. He doesn’t give up.
What am I whining for? Of course, you’ve never had any doubts! You’re always so driven to save and protect, I bet doubts are afraid of you (God, that sounded corny. He can only hope Endeavor would actually wait till Hawks was successful to read and expose these letters to the public) if you, again, even have any! I shouldn’t just let people tear me down, I’m plenty strong! You couldn’t have known because it’s been a while since I’ve written to you (ugh, cringe) but my feathers are able to lift up a lot without shaking now! I lifted up three boys in the air during training the other day, and I’m starting to be able to hear conversations in other rooms! Guess who…
Keigo had to literally pause his writing and absolutely facepalmed at the fact he almost bragged about being able to overhear the teachers talking and planning. He was always the first to be ready for any villain drills or pop quizzes and no one seemed to know why. It needed to stay that way.
..is getting closer and closer to being one of you guys someday? It’s gonna be me! Make sure you keep an eye out for Hawks, Endeavor. Your ally in the sky! Would you hate me if my hero costume had flames on it? Would it reflect badly on you if I did? Probably, right? We’ll discuss it when we do our first mission together, but I’m a firm believer that color coordination during hero missions is the ultimate key to success. I’m sure you agree!
I’m sorry the letter started on such a bummer note. I just know I can be out there with you and the other heroes doing more and the classrooms are feeling more and more like a cage! I can’t wait to stretch my wings out and try everything! A few scars never hurt anyone, I might as well start getting used to it! I just can’t wait till heroes are able to take it easy once I’m up in the tops with you guys. Maybe our agencies will be nearby? I think that’d be kinda cool, don’t you?
I just can’t wait to get started and never touch a math textbook again for as long as I live. Maybe I’ll try to make those outlawed when I’m a hero. Can I get your support on that? They couldn’t say ‘no’ to you!
See you soon, Endeavor! Thanks for keeping things in check for me!
Your friend and soon-to-be matching comrade,
Hawks
(and no, Keigo did not finish the rest of that homework. However, using his feather, he found out the instructor got caught in the teacher’s lounge with some staff member training under him doing...who really knew what. Safe to say they wouldn’t be collecting his homework anytime soon. Even if he had nothing to do with it, Keigo thanked Endeavor. It only made sense that the number two hero hated math too, right?)
- - -
(Hawks: Age 18)
The tap, tap, tap of his PR manager’s pen against her pad made it all too clear Hawks had done it again. He’d already made a complete ass of himself, and on national television too.
Naturally.
“Do you…have you…in all my years of…” the woman (god, what was her name again? Toni? Tori? He couldn’t remember, and this seemed a bad time to ask) stammered, her anger palpable from the insistent tapping and how red her face got.
Hawks had made his first television debut since making it into the top ten on the heroes charts (“An honor that doesn’t come to any pretty asshole on the street!”) and where he thought he did terrifically, his team thought differently. Very differently.
Apparently, people don’t like you making jokes about the other heroes.
Or the host’s obvious ogling of the underage intern behind the camera.
Or hell, how lame the late-night host’s show had gotten in recent years (really, Hawks was doing him a favor!).
“Ah, come on! You saw how people reacted to me!” Hawks tried to reassure her, giving her the same smile he’d give for the cameras. She could see through it. That didn’t stop him. “People like it when the truth’s in your face, and you should see what people say about him online. A forced smile, laughing at everything someone says, conversations with no real substance, he was outdated years ago!”
To further prove his point, he pulled up his phone and showed her different comments and polls online following the interview. Several of them were titled ‘Should Jimney Fallone retire?’ or ‘Is It Me or Are Late-Night Hosts Losing Touch?’ and Hawks’ personal favorite: ‘Hey, the Bird Dude May Be An Asshole, but Jimney Fallone Had It Coming’.
A small example, maybe, and who knows what other outlets were saying about him. But he got people talking. Isn’t that what his PR team would want? “The guy’s due for retirement any day now! Sorry if I pulled the trigger on this happening sooner rather than later,”
She let out a dry chuckle, clearly in disagreement. “You think that excuses you from your behavior? You’re not some child! You’re the new number ten hero in Japan! How will we look if you’re first television debut since you’ve been ranked, you diss a beloved -and yes, he is beloved- late-night host?”
“He’s no Present Mic-”
“Hawks.” Her voice became commanding, icy cold, and leaving no more room for negotiations or quick comments. “How do you think you’re going to be rewarded for this? You were supposed to be trained better. You should know better, you of all people!”
Of course he should. Hawks was taught better than to break protocol, to not act out of selfish intentions..but by no means was he going to be easy to control. He didn’t need to make obligatory television appearances to make people feel safe and secure. People liked it when their heroes spoke the truth, not hiding behind a fake personality. And Hawks’ mind was (debatably) the one thing the commission couldn’t control.
Not to mention: everybody loved a bastard. So Hawks really was doing his team a favor by being so memorable.
Again, though, his PR Tia (he caved and asked for her name again-she smacked his arm repeatedly with her stupid clipboard and even called the lady back at the Commission. Perfect) couldn’t agree and basically told Hawks to stay away the rest of the night. Blowing his few moments of fame on TV didn’t mean he could neglect his patrol, and since he didn’t have sidekicks quite yet, it was up to him to do his flyover solo. He liked it that way. Meant he didn’t have to answer to anyone or keep up the charm-you couldn’t read his expressions in the sky, you know.
Hopefully.
Hawks welcomed the light breeze as he took off into the skies, the television station getting farther away physically and from his mind. Ah, they’d be fine. Ol’ Fallone will bounce right back from Hawks’ little stunt. Sure, his fangirls may boycott the show for a few months or spark some heated debates online, but it would become yesterday’s news after time. That sort of ‘hero work’ wasn’t Hawks’ main priority, anyway.
An attempted robbery around the block? Only two feathers are needed for that one, the idiot was armed with a crowbar. A crowbar, guy?
Carjacking outside one of the local clubs? A feather had him pinned against the wall for the cops to find in a few moments.
The night wasn’t too generous after all that, unfortunately. It would seem criminals took more vacation days than heroes ever did. Hawks had already flown around all the hot spots by that point, perched on the edge of buildings eyeing every dark alley or bare parking lot or closed down store in sight.
A waste of a lovely night!
And with no paparazzi around (yet), what’s a guy to do with his spare time?
Hawks dug around in the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out a tiny yellow notepad and a red ballpoint pen (carved like a feather, naturally) and clicked the tip of it to come out, prepared to write. Usually, this notepad was used for leaving notes on criminals, for taking down names and addresses, or sometimes just playing tic tac toe with sidekicks or other pro heroes bored on their patrols (Rumi and he were in the midst of a tournament, with Hawks up by one. It was the best out of five, and they were due for the final game any day now).
The night still wasn’t feeling generous enough for a Mikuko appearance, though, so Hawks settled with his thoughts.
His thoughts went to Endeavor, of all people.
The guy was probably gonna give him hell for Hawks’ interview that night, so he thought it best to at least prepare for an excuse or three. Or hell, maybe one day they’ll all look back at this and laugh!
Granted, no one’s ever probably heard Endeavor laugh before, or lived long enough to describe it in great detail.
Dear Endeavor,
Ha! See? Told ya I’d make it! Took oh, I don’t know, ten years, but that’s sooner than most! If I may be so bold as to say, I think it’s even faster than YOUR hero debut and your place in the heroes charts.
Needless to say, I’m killing it.
Hawks could already feel the second-degree burns from Endeavor just writing this.
My television debut was flawless if you watched with your eyes closed and were downtown at a bar tho. I looked great, but I guess the host wasn’t very (Talented? Engaging? Smart? Appealing? Interesting?) patient with me. You two could probably compare notes, I’m sure. He’s not very fond of my puns or suggestions, which is a pity cause the man could use some rebranding.
All this to say I’m just glad it’s all coming together. It’s been hell on earth to do it, but…
He glanced up at the outline of the city, bright lights still managing to overwhelm him even after patrolling the same skyline for so long. It all honestly made him appreciate the actual sky more, away from the smog and cameras and boundless amounts of pressure (that will no doubt continue to pile up the longer he’s in this career). He was grateful for this job, this opportunity to do what he's always wanted to, but it wasn’t quite how he pictured as a kid.
People tell him he’s one of the lucky ones. And sometimes the doubts ingrained in him as a kid still come back and ask him to wonder whether he really is.
But it’ll all be worth it, right? If you thought that TV appearance was bad, wait for the billboard charts speech I got in mind. If it’s any consolation, I’ll probably make you look good!
(Attempted robbery at a gas station down the street. Some teenage punk who didn’t even have a gun on him-just shoved his hand in his pocket and held it up like it was loaded).
Honestly, the robber struck at a good time, Hawks was beginning to suffer writer's block and just looked over his letter waiting for more witty one-liners to give the guy (as if he’d actually got the letters-he wasn’t eight anymore. He learned from the last attempts to send them that the big guy never read one single word) but was coming up short. Maybe it was just a sign of his age (the end of his fanboy era? Gasp!) or just because it had been a long day, but for once he didn’t feel compelled to spill his heart out for the guy.
Maybe the Commission had broken him down and he finally-HA!
He had to stifle a laugh to keep from seeming like a creep up on the rooftops. No, those bastards may have transformed him into a workaholic, caffeine-addicted dweeb with no social life, but he was still that little kid clutching a superhero plushie close. Just sitting up on the edge of the roof, swinging his legs back and forth, and writing to Endeavor proved that much.
I just wanna clean up these streets already, you know? I mean, people are saying I’m moving too fast, but if you asked me (and I’m so glad you did) I don’t think I’m fast enough if jerks are still out robbing banks and holding clerks at gunpoint. All Might’s done a good job scaring most criminals off, but I can’t wait for the day petty crime dies down too. Can you imagine a world where heroes can actually sit back and take a break? Just to actually enjoy the day, with everyone feeling safe and trusting and god, I could actually nap! I could actually learn to nap and so could you, if you wanted! Being number two sounds draining as hell, I don’t know how you do it. I’ll try to stick near the rear of the top ten heroes for the time being, thanks.
“Hawks.” A static message rang from his headphones (draped around his neck for the sole purpose of not speaking to anyone) and he reluctantly pulled them up to his ears and pressed down on them firmly.
“You rang?”
“Report back to your agency. We need to speak about your image going forward.”
Hawks had already shoved his notepad back in his jacket and was up on his feet, sighing loudly enough for the woman on the other end to hear. “No ‘congratulations’ first?”
“Congratulations, Hawks. You’ve made a spectacle out of your debut, and going forward you will act more appropriately or the only way you speak to the public is through prewritten PR lines,” (the woman has a monotone voice but somehow made this drip with sarcasm. It only annoyed Hawks more).
“Ohh, don’t threaten me with a good time, chief.”
“Get back. To. Your. Agency.” The line went dead after that, and immediately Hawks wanted there to be some large-scale villain attack that knocked him out cold so he could just go anywhere but home.
The night wasn’t generous to him. No villains made an appearance near him as he waited one, two, three more seconds. He did, though, know how to finish the letter, grabbing the notepad out again and scribbling down,
Duty calls, though. Somehow, my PR team proves more of a threat than anything All Might’s probably faced. I hope you don’t have nearly as many issues with them as I do.
Though if you do have any suggestions on who to hire, I’d be all ears.
Until the next time I ‘publicly disgrace’ myself,
Hawks
- - -
(Keigo Takami: Age 23)
Enji Todoroki wasn’t unfamiliar with hospitals, but this time he felt extremely different being there. It was like he was the Grim Reaper roaming the halls, his actions the sole cause of so many fatal casualties and his presence not bringing anyone comfort. His hero status didn’t matter anymore. No hero status mattered anymore, really.
But especially not Endeavor, terrible father of an equally terrible villain (who was supposed to be dead. How could Touya not be dead? How could he still be alive and Enji miss it?)
It plagued him, kept him up at night along with the wounds and the aches and the sheer guilt of watching his beloved city collapse all while he only stood there frozen. He was lucky Shouto fought on his behalf, once again taking the brunt of Endeavor’s (shameful) legacy to face his brother head-on. So much was added onto that guilt-so many heroes died because of this. So many heroes’ lives were drastically changed for the worst.
One of those heroes may never fly again.
“He hasn’t talked to anyone,” Best Jeanist informed him as he took a seat near Enji’s hospital bed. He was probably the one person still intact after the war and took on the role of caregiver and counsel to a worn-down number one hero.
Jeanist also tended to play the role of messenger between all the heroes in the hospital (he’d been with Miruko, Eraserhead, and lately Hawks. Because Enji still didn’t have the strength to go see these people face-to-face yet). Currently, he had returned from Hawks’ room and the news he brought about the former prodigy was as grim as ever.
Was Hawks (Keigo. His name was Keigo Takami. God, he hadn’t thought about Takami in years) even the same kid he used to be? So upbeat and annoying, and yet he looked at Endeavor like the man held up the goddamn sun. If he had known who Hawks really was...if he had just followed up on the Takami case...if he had just-
“What do the doctors say about his wings?” Enju dared to ask after a moment, letting the monitor’s consistent beeping fill the silence between two comrades.
Jeanist visibly stiffens as he responds, “They doubt they’ll grow back at all. To-” he cleared his throat, catching himself before accidentally treading on a touchy subject, “Dabi...his flames, they burned his wings right down to their very base. They say if they do grow back, they won’t even be able to lift him off the ground.”
“In other words…”
Jeanist nodded. “Yeah. He’s...he’s done.”
God, that hurt. That hurt to hear and hurt to realize his son, Enji Todoroki’s flesh and blood, ruined Hawks. Burned him alive, coating him in unrelenting blue flames until they took everything away from him. He always looked alive soaring through the skies, fast and free and pushing himself to limits beyond human comprehension.
Enju can’t even imagine what a future for “the man who’s a bit too fast” looks like now. Hawks wasn’t supposed to slow down for a while, he was just getting started.
“What’s the Commission gonna do with him?” Enji wondered out loud, knowing damn well those corrupt pieces of shit were scrambling for solutions.
“They’re gonna try to retire him quietly,” Jeanist said, uncertain, “Maybe relocate him to some facility till they…” he shook his head searching for the right phrase. Reluctantly, he settled on, “...know what to do with him. I don’t think anyone knows what to do with him, including Hawks himself.”
“Someone said they’re gonna put blame on him for the war starting,” Enji heard talks about some of the nurses who would check on him while he (pretends to) rest, some of them remarking the young hero with disdain and cruelty. One of them joked about “doing the public a favor and suffocating him with a pillow while he slept” (Enji’s heartrate monitor understandably picked up at that, anger and annoyance seeping through him enough so that the nurses finished checking on him and scrambled out of the room. Stupid people had no idea what that boy did for them. No one did).
It was a sentiment shared with Jeanist, who visibly picked up on Enji’s feelings. “He’s guarded constantly in case anyone tries anything...but…”
The number three hero adjusted uncomfortably in his seat, yet still remained composed enough to look directly at Enji and pushed on. “I think he would benefit from a visit. From you.”
“The father of a monster who almost killed him.” Enji sarcastically replied, annoyed that Jeanist sat stone-faced in response. “The father who, much like Hawks’ own, abused-”
“It’s not at all the same.” He was interrupted, the stone-faced look on Jeanist slightly faltering. “I’m not in any position to judge morally on..on any of it, but you weren’t like the Takami thief.” He rose from his seat, fixing his hair before continuing, “You were always seeking atonement. Even Hawks can see that.”
“It’s bold of you to speak on his behalf,”
“Just go speak with him.”
“He seems to be open to talking to you. No need for me. Can you imagine the negative shit they’d say if they saw him with me? They’re already tearing that kid to shreds just for killing a villain-”
“How,” Jeanist shook his head, “How you manage to remain stubborn and pigheaded even wrapped in bandages and with your reputation torn to threads, I’ll never know.”
He dug into his pocket suddenly before pulling out a thick stack of envelopes, holding them up in the air for the disgraced hero to see. Setting them down on the edge of the bed, Jeanist explained to a visibly confused Enji, “Guess he had a sidekick bring over some paperwork under the guise that they’re for ‘insurance’ purposes. He asked me to throw these specifically away, to burn them, even, but I thought I’d bring them to you first.”
Curiosity peaked, Enji reached across the bed and lifted up the stack, shocked to see they were all addressed, “To Endeavor”. He looked up at Jeanist, silently asking a million questions.
“Think you already know what these are..and I hope they can convince you to go talk to him,” Jeanist explained (barely) before heading to the door. “Doctors said you can be released tomorrow. I’ll come back with the car to drive you somewhere you can hide for a bit. Shouto’s been asking about you, too. You should at least speak to someone, Endeavor.”
Fan letters. Of all the heroes to idolize..little Keigo Takami really chose the man who arrested his own father.
He really thought Hawks messing with him all these years was him being an arrogant brat, someone to mess with the old-timers, and trying to get some reaction out of him. Enji hadn’t even opened the letters yet and the revelation that Hawks’ admiration was genuine and real all this time gut-punched Enji harder than any Nomu.
And the punches kept coming as Enji read through them.
One by one, it was like he was watching the transformation from Keigo to Hawks happening in real-time. His spelling and sentences became more organized, his optimism continued to shine through even when he was describing vicious and rigorous training provided by the HPSC, and gradually the boy shed his Takami name altogether.
It was as if through writing his letters, Hawks was able to rewrite his story. Rewrite his future from the son of a no-good petty thief to something more, something greater.
And now that hard work was stripped away from him. Dabi took that from him. Asking Jeanist to hide, no, burn these letters, was almost as if Hawks had finally given up.
He thought all these letters were just from child to teenage Hawks until the very last envelope, the date in the corner from a few months before the war even started (presumably as he was working with the Liberation Army).
With careful hands, Enji ripped open the final envelope and unfolded the paper.
Dear Endeavor,
By the time you read this, I’m gonna assume I’m dead. Wow, that’s ominous to think about. The fact that I in the future could be dead or worse, wow. That’s a bummer note to start on, sorry. Regardless, I’m assuming something bad’s happened to me and you’re going through my stuff and you see this stack of letters addressed to you and are thinking one of two things:
One: what sort of twelve-year-old fanboy’s wet dream bullshit is this and can I burn these without setting off the smoke detector?
Two: oh my god, he’s obsessed with me. The number two hero’s my love-struck stalker.
Well, get your head out of the gutter and focus. Neither is true. I’m just a fan, that’s all!
Hawks’ personality shining through the letter was enough to put Enji in a weird state of peace. Like if he closed his eyes, he was back to how things were before; when Hawks was at his agency talking aimlessly about a case they both were working on and Enji was fuming the more he spoke, flames getting brighter and brighter the more annoyed he got.
If you had told him back then that Hawks, cocky and arrogant and fast, really admired someone like Endeavor, the guy probably would’ve burned you on the spot because jokes are stupid and that was no exception.
Yet here he was.
No, I guess I oughta be serious here. For a minute, anyway. I won’t lie to you, Endeavor. Things are getting bad where I am. This Paranormal Liberation Army is getting more serious by the minute, and I don’t think the city’s gonna be ready for Shigaraki. I hope by the time you’re reading this, I’m proven wrong. Maybe I won’t have to leave this letter at all. (Enji had to pause his reading here before continuing).
Regardless, think of this as my last will testament or something in the event we aren’t ready and I bite the bullet. I’ve probably had it coming for a while now, and it only makes sense my death happens faster than I intended.
I really don’t own anything and don’t have any next of kin (that I’m aware of), so I guess donate my money to some charity. I trust your judgment, but if I could recommend any for at-risk youths or for families of people in prisons. You’d be surprised by the sort of struggles in that lifestyle. Not a lot of heroes think about the families of those they arrest, but I can’t help but do just that. So if you could just check up on them, donate to people in that situation, I think I’d appreciate it in the afterlife.
Any material goods of mine like clothes or something, just sell. Or burn them, if you’re feeling like it. Though I think Shotou could rock some of my looks...or Tokoyami!
Ah hell, Tokoyami. Keep an eye on him for me, okay? That kid’s got so much potential, I’d hate for him to give up on my account. Make sure he’s still flying high and, if possible, leave my agency for him. Whenever he’s ready, it’s his. Don’t force him into a line of work he may want to back out of. God knows I should’ve been given that choice.
Man, I’m gonna miss that the most if I die, though. Flying high. Unless the afterlife really is heaven, in which case I get sick angel wings and a halo to match. Damn, that’d be cool. Maybe dying’s not the worst thing in the world.
Am I allowed to say that? Are heroes allowed to say corny shit like that? Who knows. Let’s just keep that between us.
Enji paged the nurse. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, his aching body not liking the sudden movement but he willed himself to continue. He informed the woman when she arrived that he wanted to take a walk. She protested. He promptly stood up and walked past her anyway.
I really wanted to let you know, though, that I’m thankful for you. Yeah, yeah, here come the really sappy parts of the letter, but I mean it. I don’t know if you know this, but you saved my life a long time ago. Back when I was this doughy-eyed, wannabe hero with no shoes on his feet and ticks in his hair. You saved me from living in the shadows of a villainous father, the Takami thief (he was such a low-life, I’m sure you’ve forgotten him. I envy you for that).
The walk of shame down the hallway seemed to drag for him, but Enji was used to eyes watching him closely. Technically, it’s what he wanted people to do when he was finally ranked the number one hero, but they weren’t looking for flaws this time. They were looking for Enji to be in shambles, for cracks in his stoic nature, and for him to just grovel at everyone’s feet.
But this time Endeavor only looked forward, eyeing the hospital room with two HPSC assholes guarding the door.
It was such a simple arrest for you, but that changed the course of my life forever. Heroes weren’t fictional anymore, they were real! You made that world a reality for me, even more so when I realized I could do the same good work you do, and you do good work, Endeavor. I know I gave you shit at the charts speech, but come on. One, it was funny. But two, I’ve always had respect for you. I owe you for inspiring me to do this career because at the end of the day, I don’t regret doing this. I don’t regret saving people, even if they don’t like me as much. To think I could change someone’s life like how you did for me?
Name me one greater honor than that, and I’ll pay for any dinners we get together for the rest of our careers (unless, again, I’m dead. In which case, go to town on my bank account!).
He didn’t have to glare too hard for them to let him pass through. Entering into the room and bracing for the worst, Enji was soon face-to-face with something resembling the number two hero. Hawks had a mask covering most of his face, probably the only source of his breathing, and his back was bare. So strikingly bare that it was actually hard for Enji not to immediately notice it. Hawks sat there and seemed spaced out, his expression even more unreadable due to his mask.
His eyes looked tired, prominent dark circles hanging underneath to show he hadn’t been sleeping well either (was anyone?). It was just so odd seeing Hawks so small on that bed.
He was once so, so big.
All this long-winded praise and sad shit to say that I mean it when I say you’re great, Endeavor. I can’t think of another person who deserves the number one spot more. And even if I’m not there to see it, I hope your legacy brings honor to Japan.
Till next time I come to bug your ass in your office, which I hope is sooner rather than later,
Hawks
Hawks watched, stunned, as Endeavor walked into the hospital room and took a seat in a chair near his bed, like he was the last visitor he expected to see (it only made Endeavor wonder what those asshole HPSC agents told him during his stay). And when he noticed the stack of envelopes tightly in his fists, Hawks was quick to reach across and grab his phone.
‘Oh holy shit, please tell me Jeanist didn’t give you those.’ The automated voice said, but Hawks’ embarrassed expression spoke more volumes. It would’ve been humorous if it weren’t for the nature of the last letter.
“He did.” Endeavor confirmed, lightly amused at seeing the former cocky hero slump back in defeat on the bed, taking a deep breath before typing again,
‘That’s the thanks I get for saving Jeanist, huh?’ the voice was monotone, but it was clearly a joke.
Of course, the one time Hawks was genuinely embarrassed is the one time Endeavor really can’t call him out on it.
That was probably a saving grace for Hawks, in all honesty.
The older hero cleared his throat, struggling already to come up with the right thing to say until he looked at the letters again. He set them down on the bed, the two of them just looking at the letters worn from time and a capsule of Hawks’ past.
What could someone say to their number one fan, one who Enji really never acknowledged? Or spent the last several months dismissing or ignoring or insulting?
How do you apologize for not being the hero someone deserved?
Hawks, of course, was faster to break the silence, the sound of him typing carrying on for a while until finally, ‘I’m sorry, Endeavor. I let myself get caught up in the mission that I didn’t see the warning signs. And to make matters worse, you had to find out that I had some obsession with you. I swear, going forward, that-’
Endeavor reached over and shut off the phone, cutting off the voice, and threw it to the other side of the hospital bed. “I won’t let you apologize, and you don’t need to sit there ashamed in these.” He patted the envelopes for emphasis.
Hawks raised his eyebrows, a clear way of asking ‘Sir, did you actually READ those? I should let the nurses pull the chord on me now.’
“I have many regrets in my life...many that I don’t believe I’ll ever be able to fix,” Eye contact with anyone was hard lately, but he looks over at the young man seriously, wanting Hawks to hear something good among the bullshit people say about him. “Saving you is not one of them, and it never will be.”
Lifting up the letters in his hands, he continued. “Reading these made me realize I misjudged you. Maybe that was your intent, to get me off your ‘scent’, but I don’t know if there’s..” He really sucked at these conversations. “..if there’s anyone in this world who would be more worthy to be called a ‘hero’.”
Hawks was skeptical of the praise. And admittedly, Endeavor did sound a lot like All Might right then and there. It was out of character for him, but maybe that was a good thing. Maybe Endeavor needed to rebrand a little. Some things needed to change, and that was one thing this whole war made perfectly clear.
“I hope you forgive me for all you’ve gone through someday.” There was no real way to get through this, to talk about everything from Dabi to the letters. It would probably forever be a conversation the two would have to take in doses.
Starting with this big one.
“But..forgive me, Hawks. My work and my legacy have brought you nothing but hurt your whole life.”
At this, Hawks seemed to snap to life for a moment, letting out a weak grunt of protest and patting around for his phone. Once again, he typed with a speed saved for his (nonexistent) wings, and the voice spoke on his behalf.
‘It is because of your legacy that I was saved. And I don’t regret having you as my hero.’
Endeavor almost wished Hawks would be mad at him, lay all the blame solely on the top hero like the rest of the world seemed to. If anyone was well within their right to be furious, it was Hawks. But instead, he continues to praise Endeavor. His hero.
Such adoration was something Endeavor was unaccustomed to, even from his own family. Leave it to the one obnoxious guy he actively tried to push away to bring it to finally give it to Endeavor. That was something he was certain he’d never forgive himself for.
‘I don’t suppose I could ask you to burn those, though. If my sidekicks or anyone else caught wind of these, there goes what little I have of my reputation.’ Hawks let out another little grunt, and based on Jeanist’s report of there being little to no movement from the boy, this seemed to be an improvement.
Endeavor brought about that improvement.
Huh.
“..I’m afraid I might have to hang these on my wall. Framed and everything,” Endeavor decided to play along. “Perhaps a hall of fame for fanboys, and you can be the first showcase.”
Hawks just shook his head in response, and for one fleeting moment, it was like he was himself again. That glint of mischief, of always being one step ahead. It was gone just like that, but just by it’s sudden appearance, Endeavor knew it wasn’t too late.
There was still a small boy in there that he was determined to save this time.
Hawks, Keigo Takami, would live to write whatever fan letters he wanted (and Endeavor would forever use it against him in any upcoming quarrels). The hero deserved everything he wanted, and if that meant Endeavor’s full support?
So be it.