Chapter Text
Dabi had a routine.
Well… sort of.
Dabi – sort of – had a routine.
It might not look that way from the outside, but the outside can go fuck itself. Just like everyone else can go fuck themselves. Just like his family can go fuck themselves.
The day Touya died on Sekoto Peak wasn’t Dabi’s birthday – it was his conception date. The Dabi of today was birthed in front of the alter Endeavor had constructed in the Todoroki home. That day, a changeling wearing Touya’s face slipped away from Musutafu and into the sewers of Fukuoka where he stayed until his body began to look as demonic as he felt inside.
(‘Stop pretending to be such an edge lord… A demon wouldn’t share his dinner with the skinny puppy that hangs out in the park,’ whispers a voice in his head that sounds too much like Natsuo. For what feels like the millionth time in the three years since he’s woken up, Touya slams the door in that corner of his mind and tells the voice to ‘shut up and go die.’)
Anyway – point being – Dabi’s made his own routine, which usually involves some iteration of sleeping until late afternoon, shaking down a scumbag for enough money to buy some food, training with his quirk in the abandoned construction site around the corner until his skin sizzles too painfully for him to do much more than go back home and hate-watch the news on his neighbour’s unprotected wifi until he falls asleep. If he happens to catch a broadcast of an Endeavor fight and he’s got enough energy, then he might even write a few notes about flame techniques because despite how he looks, Dabi loves poetry and nothing – nothing – could ever be as poetic as destroying that old man with his own techniques. The same techniques Endeavor chose to refuse to pass down to his eldest son will someday be his undoing.
His old man always wanted one of his children to surpass him – he should have been more careful what he wished for.
It is that thought that has him reaching for a pen as Endeavor’s sweaty, offensive face flashes on the Musutafa news channel’s live stream the evening everything changed. He’ll never find out just how much the next few moments would change his life because if he did, then he might be inclined to believe in semi-ironic, divine intervention because what else could it be but some celestial force saying, “naw, fuck that.”
Another Dabi in another world can be careful what he (Dabi) wished for.
Another Dabi can fruitlessly melt his own face and body like a vengeful wraith.
This Dabi can (someday) have a face that’s scarred but smiles without pain.
This Dabi can (someday) write a different sort of sonnet – just as deep, but not quite so dark.
This Dabi loses his routine.
It starts with a bird hitting his window.
“Shiiit, sorry – my bad!”
---
Hawks has no routine.
Well… sort of.
Hawks has no routine – he has a schedule.
Hawks has a schedule, which is arranged by his secretary – who is less like his secretary and more like his handler.
Actually, that’s exactly what she is.
Her name is Tanaka Haruka and she was assigned to his agency by the Hero Commission to manage his schedule and keep an eye on him. Hawks would call her what she is – his handler – except that it sounds as bad as it makes him uncomfortable (also, the commission chief threatened him with consequences if he called her that).
If the Commission said ‘jump’, Hawks jumped. If they said ‘fight that villain’, Hawks fought the villain without complaint. If they said, 'stand up straight and smile at the cameras', then Hawks did just that. It’s been that way since he was small and if it was just that, then he would be ecstatic to do it because all he ever wanted to do was keep people safe so they could smile.
But with the Commission, it was never just that.
Hawks gave up his name and his parents. He suffered through the surgeries and the broken bones. He tolerated the names the trainers called him that kept him awake at night when he knew he needed to sleep. Hawks survived it all because it was supposed to make him better… someday, he’d be the best hero he could be. Someday, Hawks would become the Winged-Hero Hawks: a top hero with his own agency who would save everyone (including himself). It's just... no one had ever mentioned growing up that his future hero agency wouldn’t actually be – you know – his, though in hindsight, he probably should had expected it.
('Takami Keigo is gone. He's dead - bury him,' the Commission Chief's voice echoes sternly in his head, though the memory itself has gone fuzzy with time, 'you are Hawks now - you belong to us and to the people. You will strive to become the best hero in Japan and you will do as you are told. Nothing more.')
Hawks hasn’t had anything that was his since he was seven. Why should turning eighteen and gaining a hero’s licence make that any different? He might no longer be a minor under the Commission’s guardianship, but they still owned him. They still paid for him the same as they paid the rent for his agency and apartment.
Hawks has a schedule, not a routine because unlike a routine, schedules can be much more easily rearranged.
When the Commission and Tanaka say ‘jump’, Hawks jumps.
This time, Hawks jumps straight through a window.
This time, Keigo finds somewhere (i.e., someone) that’s just his.
“WHAT THE FUCK – WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?!”