Chapter Text
Looking back on it, Keigo should've realized that the commission was not his savior. He'd been bought by them when he was six, and his mother, desperate for money, sold him for barely anything.
He should have realized when he was ten when his handler punished him severely for allowing any of his bird-like traits to come out when they filed down his talons. He always winced when he remembered the first time they'd filed them down, the inhuman screech that tore its way from his throat; the two days after, they kept food away and made him think about what he'd done.
But he deserved it; it would be worth it in the end. Keigo knew they were only trying to help him. "We're only trying to better you, Hawks," his handler had said after one grueling training session as he laid on the ground, limbs screaming in agony.
This is only to help me get better , he thought at thirteen, as he fought not to lose consciousness after a quirk shattered one of the bones in his wings. It took six weeks for the bone to heal, even with their best healer. Aside from breaking his leg while on patrol once, it'd been the worst pain he'd ever felt, nearly having him in tears when the bone had finally been set, and they'd refused to give him pain medication, citing 'You won't always be in a situation where you can get them, Hawks,"
So he sucked it up, trained through the pain, and learned to keep his mouth shut.
Keigo is eighteen when he debuts as a pro hero. His debut is exhilarating; the villain not standing a chance against him. The villain is down within five minutes of Keigo arriving on the scene, and the trapped civilians are rescued within ten. The media flock him when it's all over, demanding to know who he is and learn more about him. He answers their questions with his best smile and uses the techniques his handler taught him when they taught him PR.
The following months after his debut are exhausting but so much fun. He's invited to talk shows, modeling photoshoots, and several galas. Even the commission had begun to loosen their grip a bit, dropping their weekly meetings to one a week and the training sessions to two. He doesn't understand why he still needs the training sessions, but he's learned that complaining only gains him a harsh punishment.
That is, until one December evening.
Keigo had been feeling exhausted for the entire month, and his body had been instinctively slowing down, entering Torpor. Keigo was no different; he had bird traits, after all. Keigo had never entered Torpor before, not willingly, at least.
This is the worst time this could happen ; he pinched his brow.
His reaction time had worsened as the month dragged on, preventing him from being at the top of his game. The commission hadn't said anything yet, but Keigo was waiting for the reprimand when they stuck him in that freezing room for a week until he could work through his body shutting down.
It all came to a head on the 22nd of December during a rescue operation. He'd been off duty since eight that evening, getting ready to sleep, when his phone went off. He looked at it quickly, swearing under his breath when he saw he was being called in. He got his uniform on as quickly as he could and flew off his balcony.
The rescue had been going great like it usually did, until a building started to come down. The building had been badly damaged by the earthquake villain that had been subdued before he managed to get on the scene. Keigo whisked a feather into the crumbling building and nearly stopped breathing.
There were signs of life on the first floor, and he knew that she wouldn't be able to get out in time. He quickly took off and dove into the building, ignoring the yells of the other pros behind him. The building was steadily collapsing around him.
His eye's narrowed, and he tried to look through the dust; to his left, a feather alerted him to the woman. He made a sharp turn, narrowly avoiding falling debris. His opening was narrowing, and shit , there wasn't enough space. He gritted his teeth; he would make it, he had to.
Keigo stopped and listened. He listened for the sounds of the woman over his heavy breathing. He coughed; the dust was nearly suffocating. "Hey!" He yelled, listening for any hint of sound. His window of time was closing, and it was getting harder to hear anything as the building groaned around him.
Then he heard a cry almost impossible to hear over the roar. He twisted towards the sound and sent feathers to the rubble. The feathers had difficulty pushing through the rock, and Keigo's stomach sank.
There was a sharp crack above him.
He hears something in his wing crack before he feels the impact. He's on the ground before he even realizes what's happened.
There was darkness, and Keigo thought he was dead. His mind was foggy with the usual amount of confusion losing consciousness tends to bring.
Arms? Sore, likely bruised. Legs? He curled his toes, wincing at the sharp ache from his right leg, and it's not sharp enough to be a broken bone, likely a laceration. He shifted, and that's when a burst of pain hit, a searing ache around his back and left wing. There was no rubble on his back, but the pressure on his left wing was harsh, a deep ache that almost pulled a sharp scream from his throat.
If his left wing was pinned, then that explained the wetness around his back and shoulder. He squeezes his eyes shut, it's going to hurt badly, but he's got to get up and find a way out. There's no telling how long he's been in here and if the civilian was as lucky as he was to survive the collapse.
Civilian
Shit, the civilian !
He forces himself to his knees and looks to his left. He feels the blood drain from his face before fully registering what he's seeing. The woman lays face down, half of her body under the rocks. His feathers had managed to get through most of the rocks, but there hadn't been enough time.
She is still, and Keigo has never felt like such a failure in all of his life.
He holds her until his remaining feathers sense the shifting of the rock and the calls from people above. The adrenaline has long since gone, and the dull ache of his broken wing is hard to ignore.
Best Jeanist is the first to reach him through the rubble, and he's the one who catches him when the woman is safely in the arms of another hero. His body unwillingly surrenders to the pull at his consciousness as his head lulls against the other hero. He wonders if he should have done more.
The months following the mission were rough. The guilt weighed on Keigo heavily, leaving him with nights of wondering if there had been anything more he could do. His handler thought there was more he could do, and she told him for a week straight.
His handler had been silent, the way she usually was when he accidentally allowed his bird traits to come out. It was as if her eyes pierced his soul as she stared at him from across her desk. Her lips were pursed, leaving none of her emotions up for interpretation.
She'd informed Keigo of the training he would be going through, and how he clearly needed it if he allowed a civilian to die. Keigo could only clench his fists and teeth as he listened to his punishment. When he was younger, he would've tried to argue that he didn't need him, but now, he knew he did. He needed to keep his head down, do as they told him, and it would all be fine.
Keigo kept his head down, did as he was told, and ensured the commission had no reason to punish him. He did his best, made sure nobody died, and went through the training sessions no matter how much they hurt, no matter the times he screamed and cried as his feathers were pulled and as he was forced to suppress his bird traits. Keigo knew that being a hero was the only thing he was good for, but for the commission to reinforce what he already knew? It hurt more than he knew how to put into words. All he knew was that Keigo didn't matter; Hawks was the only thing he would ever be.
Keigo was twenty-two when he met Dabi. The first meeting had been tense, and the man had threatened to burn him, but Keigo wasn't nervous he'd read from the commission about Dabi. However, he didn't expect the piercing blue eyes that looked him up and down and made him shiver.
Something about Dabi attracted him to the man, and as time wore on, they made a sort of friendship. Don't get him wrong, he didn't trust Dabi as far as he could throw him, but there was something about him that Keigo trusted.
Dabi made his blood, made him want to punch him when he called him 'pretty bird,' but something in him preened when he heard it. Slowly, very slowly, even after Dabi invited him to league meetings and hangouts, Keigo found himself craving more.
"Pretty Bird," Dabi would sometimes greet before meetings; Keigo would pretend he didn't notice those icy eyes scanning him every time he came for a meeting. However, there were nights he'd meet Dabi up on a rooftop, and Keigo thought they might be more.
Keigo always found them lying on the roof, elbows folded behind their head. Sometimes they would talk about different things, Keigo would tell him about his day, and Dabi would tell him how Shigaraki pissed him off or how Toga and Twice got into trouble. Other times Keigo would bring alcohol after a horrible day, and Dabi would find him after a drink or two, and they'd talk about how bad their day was. Sometimes, they didn't talk at all. They always managed to find themselves shoulder to shoulder. It was nice, but Keigo knew it wouldn't last.